When Your Parent Becomes Your Child - A Personal Love Story (Part 1)

My father was sitting on the sofa in his condobecause they can't remember what they are
when I suddenly saw a look of fright fill his face.saying. Thethird stage is when the afflicted no
His eyes opened wide, and his face contorted. Helonger knows he or she has Alzheimer's and itno
started screaming, raising his arms to cover hislonger bothers them. This is the calm before the
face, and kicking his legs out in front of him.storm, the time some greaterforce gives us to
"HELP! HELP! GET AWAY!"strengthen our resolve to withstand the onslaught
I sat there in shock, not knowing what wasof the end.
happening or what to do. Prior to this,we wereAlzheimer's disease, depending on the person's
having a conversation and all was okay, exceptcare and genetics can last from afew years to
he thought I was hismother, as if it were a day in10-15 years in length, and sometimes longer.
his childhood.My father finally got to the point where we
I yelled back, "What's happening?" He saidcouldn't take care of him anymore. Hecouldn't
monsters were coming through the walls.dress himself, he didn't want to eat, he couldn't
I never saw someone so frightened. His bodybathe, and he couldn'tcontrol his bodily functions.
was in a fetal position, and he wascrying as if heWe had a family meeting. Because of the effect
were a child living out his worst nightmare. Iit washaving on my mother, my brothers and I
jumped up withoutthinking and grabbed the chair Idecided it was time to place him in a homewhere
was sitting on and began swinging it around. Ihe would get better care. However, no one can
triedto force these invisible monsters out of histake care of an Alzheimer'spatient better than
home, but to no avail.their loved ones in a familiar familial setting.
I ran over to my father, grabbed his shakingFriends, aides,church/synagogue members, and
body, and held him tightly in my arms. Ibegansupport groups will help out if you ask for thathelp
talking to him as if I were his mother; mixing the(that's what your local Alzheimer's chapter is for).
words I somehowremembered hearing in YiddishIt is not the time to beproud.
and Hebrew when I was a boy. "Sha (Be quiet),We told my father he was going into the hospital
Izzy.(not a home, which scared him)because he wasn't
Hineini (I'm here)."eating and we needed to build up his strength so
"Make them go away, Mama," my father pleadedhe could comehome. We told him that every time
like a child.he said he wanted to leave with us.
And that was what my father had become.(Sometimesyou have to hide the truth to assuage
I was now the parent.their fears.) It was a sickly feeling walkingaway
My father grew up in Brooklyn, New York, afrom him that first time, leaving him in the
Depression-era child, scared of theworld. Mycompany of strangers, some whowere so far
grandparents, immigrants from Rumania, spokegone that it was like an insane asylum for children.
Yiddish, a combination ofAs I left, I turned andlooked at him sitting in a
German and English, and other Eastern Europeanwheelchair, scared. I felt like I was abandoning him.
languages. My grandmotherpassed away when IHelooked as if he was being abandoned.
was a teenager, and I was now in my forties, butI never felt so guilty in my life.
to my father Iwas his mother at that moment.My father got worse very quickly. He would walk
Where the words came from I don't now, butinto other peoples' rooms and getin their bed,
after alifetime of listening to my parents speakthinking it was his room. He would sit in the
Yiddish at the dinner table so my brothersand Icafeteria staring at hisfood, not knowing what to
wouldn't know what they were saying, and takingdo with it, until he wilted down from 180 pounds
German for a few years inhigh school to find outto 105.
what they were saying, I had picked up a fewHe smiled whenever he saw us, but I don't think
words andphrases.he knew who we were. However, wecontinued to
I rocked my father in my arms and screamed atvisit him regularly, hoping he might have a second
these intruders, "GENUG! (ENOUGH!)of remembranceand happiness.
GAI KOCKEN AHFEN YAM!" (GET OUT OF HERE!)My father and I had a special relationship. I
until his crying subsided, which toldme thebecame what he always wanted to be. Iwas in
monsters were retreating. "Izzy," I said. Heshow business. At the opening night performance
opened his eyes and looked atme. "Gornisht!of my Broadway musical,
(Nothing!) Farshtaist? (You understand?)" MyCANTERBURY TALES, I remember watching him
father stopped shaking,stopped crying, only now Istare at my name above the title, thepride so
was shaking and crying. No one wants anyone toevident on his face. When the show ended, I
suffersuch horrific fear.watched him stand with theaudience, applauding,
But, my father had Alzheimer's disease.tears streaming down his face. He thought I could
Suffering and torment was only the beginning ofdoanything. My father, although a brilliant artist all
the nightmare.his life like his own father was, wasforemost a
While my father was still living, the stress it putteacher in my eyes. He taught me to reach for
on my mother was debilitating. Shedid her bestthe stars, to dream, and tonot give up; to be
with him until her nerves got the best of her. Iwho I am, to be proud and confident, to seek
sent her to Houston fortwo weeks to stay withsolace with myconscience, to revere wisdom and
my brother. I moved out of my own house, withbeauty, to hope and help others. I
the blessingof my wife and children, and into myneverremember him voicing a negative comment,
parents' condo. As a writer, I wasnor speaking a harsh word, norespousing a
fortunateenough to work my own schedule, so Iprejudicial epithet toward, or about, anyone or
spent all day with my father cooking mealsthatanything. There was apreponderance of love in
his mother used to cook when he was a boy,him, a love that was visible and shared with all he
hoping to make him feel moresecure. I purchasedcameinto contact.
his favorite foods and treats, and I took walksFamily was all-important, all encompassing to my
around his condodevelopment, talking to himfather. He loved my motherunconditionally, and his
about the past and trying to bring the presentchildren and grandchildren passionately. He wasn't
into theconversation. I never mentioned hisareligious man, nor was he a pious man. To him,
disease to him. I find too many people talk tohumanity was his persuasion. Tolive life with
Alzheimer's victims as if they're not there, and/ordignity, with compassion toward (wo)man and
they try to correct the mistakesthey make.nature, and respect foryourself, made my father
They are going to forget a few minutes later;a reverent man, a humanitarian, in our eyes.
however, those fewminutes of confusion fillsFinally, after four years, my father's kidneys failed
them with terrible trepidation and guilt. The twoand he was rushed to thehospital. The family was
weeks Ispent with my father, I was either hiscalled, and as we had a DNR (Do Not Resuscitate)
mother, or sister, and I played the role. Iorder, wewent to the hospital to stay with him
neverallowed him to feel uncomfortable oruntil he passed on. I remember my brothersand
confused or angry with himself. You can'treversesister-in law, and my wife and children, kiss him
the effects of Alzheimer's disease, so the best agoodbye in the emergencyroom. He was slipping
caregiver can do is to 'gowith the flow' and baskinto a coma, and it was heart-wrenching watching
in the victim's moments of happy reflection, orhim leaveus. I was the last one to say goodbye. I
segue intosomething that will make the victim'stook his hand, kissed his cheek, andwhispered in
mind switch gears from the torment ofhis ear how much I love him. I then said, "I just
notremembering.got my first novelpublished." To my shock, and
Alzheimer's disease comes in four stages. Thehappiness, he squeezed my hand slightly to let
first stage can go unnoticed for fiveto ten years.meknow he was proud of me.
The second stage is when the person knows heIt was the last memory my father took with him.
or she has the diseaseand is angry at themselfAnd it was beautiful for both of us.