3 Months

So much has happened in the past 3 months. The world has changed so dramatically. 
The Middle East and North Africa protests with the Tunisian government falling after 23 years in power followed by the riveting Egyptian People's Revolution and the nightmare of Sudan. The earthquakes in New Zealand and the 9.1-magnitude earthquake and subsequent tsunami east of Japan, killing over 14,000 and leaving another 11,000 missing. So many changes. So much emotion. Almost too much. 
Just before Christmas I was told the time had come for my father and that would be wise to book a flight to come out and say goodbye. I knew this was going to happen. The specialists told us that Dad would probably be gone by the end of December. But you can know something all you want...having it become a reality that you don't want to face, is another story all together.
I had been waiting for this call for 6 months. 6 months of tears and anguish, anger, helplessness, frustration and compromise. Well you can't really call it compromise because you don't get to make deals with Alzheimer...it doesn't care. It will just do what it always does. Take. 
Something happened. Something magical. Just before my flight my mom called to tell me that my dad had to go to the hospital because he had an infection caused by his catheter. While he was at the hospital the doctors noticed that his hemoglobin levels were low. They gave Dad a blood transfusion and in return gave me the best gift I could have ever asked for. They gave me back my Dad. Just for a little while. 
The blood transfusion imbued my dad with a new lease on life. Within 3 days of my visit my dad was out bed. His cheeks were rosy and he had a wonderful smile on his face. Best of all he was able to dig deep and communicate. He was able to focus. What a beautiful thing. Those eyes of his, those beautiful beautiful eyes sparkled again.
I was tired, broke and worn out from 9 months of crying, but none of that mattered...I had my dad back. He was out of his bed and back in his chair. He was smiling and alert. I was so so grateful. His advanced stage of Vascular Dementia meant he couldn't really talk but was able to say simple words like yup and ya. He had to dig deep to do it and I had to wait for him to form the word...but it was like Christmas every time he was able to express himself. 
This blog is about my Dad and his fight for dignity in the face of Alzheimer Disease and my fight to remember the man who loves me. I struggle with inserting my personal problems with this fight into Dad's Alzheimer Diary, but I haven't blogged in such a long time I feel I need to explain. 
In the face of my Dad's small victory I was facing many personal changes. Completely strung out, emotionally exhausted, physically depleted I was informed by my employers that they were changing formats at my radio station and that my morning show would be moving down the hall and down the dial. That when I returned to work in the new year everything, with exception of my two co-hosts, would be changed. The change of venue was a good thing, but it wasn't what I wanted. The only sure thing I had in my life was the fact that, as I was running back and forth between Edmonton and Winnipeg, I could show up to work and it would be normal. What I did for a living, where I did it and who I did it for was the only thing I could count on. After I got off the phone with my two bosses and my two co-hosts I had a massive meltdown. Completely different from the other meltdowns in the past. Those meltdowns were because of my complete sense of helplessness and anger over my Dad's Alzheimer Disease. This meltdown was "all about me". I had reached my breaking point. I was desolate. I was tired of being brave. I just wanted my Dad back. 
​My ritual has always been Starbucks for coffee and the free wi-fi then a 10 am date with my Dad. Sometimes I would spend all day with him. Other times I would leave him around 2 pm and return after supper and spend the evening with him. But one thing never changed....when I was with my Dad it was all about him. This day it was different. My eyes were swollen and puffy and I had hit an emotional wall. I just could not pull it together. My dad was in his big Gerri-chair when I came in to see him. It was always so special coming through his door...he lit up when he saw me and it, in return, lit up my life and gave me courage and strength. Not today. Dad could tell something was wrong. He reached up and touched my face and I'm ashamed to say that I couldn't hold it together. I burst out crying and did something I haven't done in years....I let it all out. I let it go and I cried and cried and cried. I told my Dad everything. How tired I was, how broke and hurt and angry and scared and lonely and frustrated I was and how now, with all these changes at work, how unsure I was of everything. I felt destroyed. In my self involved selfishness I told my Dad, my poor Dad who has spent the past year in a diaper in a chair fighting for every moment, that I was lost and that I needed his help. What do I do Dad,,,please tell me. What do I do.
My Dad has always been a man of few words, but those words have always counted. He rarely missed his mark. After I had put all my problems into my Dad's lap I sat in front of him a total wreck of a person....wretched.... wondering what had I done...ashamed of my weakness. He had turned his head away from me and I felt horrible for handing all my problems over to him. Inside I was being eaten up. It took only a minute before my Dad with his beautiful grey eyes looked back at me and said three words that would change my life forever. "Go get it".
Go get your life back. Go get your bills and pay them. Go get some sleep. Go get the vacuum and clean your house. He looked at me with such a steady gaze it was if he was willing me to understand that he was giving me permission to not pour everything I had into coming out to see him every 2 weeks. At that moment I honestly physically felt the weight of the last 3 years lift off my shoulders....now my tears were tears of relief mingled with such an appreciation for the wisdom and strength of my father. My beautiful beautiful father. I will never forget the gift he gave me that day. So we made a deal. I told him that it would be 3 months before I would be able to be back to see him, that I would get my life back in line, paperwork done, pay my bills, get out of debt, but that I would call him every day.....yup, yup, yup he said, understanding every word I said. 
I will never forget that moment as long as I live. This blog has always been a desperate grasp by me to honor my father's life before his story slips away. He has so many stories that I've learned from. But now I realize that, much like the world over the past 3 months, my life has changed dramatically with so many changes. So much emotion. Almost too much.