Moving Dad.

The following are the two e-mails I wrote to my older brother, Mike, and my two younger sisters, Betsy and Susie. It's about yesterdays experience of moving my Dad from independent living to 'residential' care. He has the hoarder syndrome, so we knew it was going to be tough:


Hey, Sibs,

Today has been quite the experience.

It started off a little rocky. Our first idea was to get Dad out of there while we were moving. Linda took him to say "goodbye" to the doctors, and then tried to run errands, but he kept demanding to go back for lunch.

She called me from Bend Villa and said they had started moving him. I showed up, and what they had done was taken the heavy stuff, and pretty much piled everything else on the floor. Dad was off eating lunch, not knowing what was in store for him.

I tell you, I was almost paralyzed by the sight. (Called my brother and said, "You owe me big time, buddy boy!") Eventually, I got started. I started putting anything of written material that was in the slightest bit pertinent flat in a box. All the knicknacks in another, all the miscellany in another box, folding clothing in another. Stacked all the books. Had barely gotten started before I got word that Dad was on his way, but had been waylaid to the new apartment.

By the time I got there, it was complete rejection of the new apartment. He was more or less circling the hallways in the new section with a mulish look in his face. So Linda and I stood in front of him and tried to make clear to him that it was "Happening" and that it was "Already decided."

Very emotional moment, altogether. Finally got through to him. Linda was in tears, and I was in near tears. He kept saying he "hadn't asked for it." He kept wanting to go back to "his" room.

So we blamed Mike. Heh.

It was too much for Linda, who suddenly announced, "I'm going to get my nails done!"

Anyway, I went back to trying to clear the main room and his bedroom of everything but clothes. I was in the midst when he suddenly showed up. oh,oh. I was a little shocked, but we had all decided that we didn't want him feeling imprisoned. (Made a big show of exchanging keys.) I think he saw that it was all over, and he went back to his new room. Yeah.

So I continued on for a few more hours, trying to get things straight, trying not to lose anything. (At one point, Dad even decided to purge his closet of some clothes -- we had brought everything over that was on hooks. His idea.)

Brought the books and magazines in, and had another dicey moment as he wanted to interfere with everything. I threw up my hands and sat on his couch.

After talking to him for awhile, I started back and he didn't stop me. Brought all the papers, all the books, all the fixtures, set up all the tables around his room. Another dicey moment when he wanted his T.V. remote control, but Linda had returned by then and went and got it.

By then it was 4:00 and I was so tired I was dropping things and running into things, so I made two more trips, sat down and asked if I could get a cup of juice or something. Linda, Dad and I sat companionably sipping orange juice, and he started looking forward to dinner.

The room is really nice. Bigger, and of course more tidy. A few pictures and correct arrangement of the furniture made it feel more like an idealized version of Dad's room. If it stays this nice, I'll be much much more interested in visiting him.

I had done everything but the kitchen, pretty much. Some clothes still in the bedroom. Linda went back tonight and got his kitchen and bathroom stuff transferred. He had eaten in the new cafeteria "which is closer!" Dad told Linda that he thought the move had been a good idea!

We credited Mike. Heh.

So we'll see how he feel tomorrow. I'm sure there are some difficult moments, yet, while he re-orients, but so far, so good.

Love,

Dunc and Linda.

(Linda objects to me saying she had abandoned me. She had always said she was leaving for her nails, by gum. But that doesn't keep me from teasing her about it. I saw that look of panic in her eyes!)

Linda says she'll send pictures when she can.

So...I found, I'm guessing, about 25 hearing aid batteries (which he is always running out of), toothpicks everywhere, coupons he could never use, five or six pairs of scissors, and huge amounts of blank scraps of paper. Some of the paper was written on, which would require the Rosetta stone to decipher. I put them all in the box. Linda found 15 toothpaste caps.

The paper trail was interesting. I knew that things had meaning to him: an article about Peter Graves, a Tarzan who had come from Portland, stuff that would look like junk to others. (I've been in the newspaper a lot! He had multiple copies). Not just one picture of you guys, but dozens of the same pictures. Lots of note cards --some which were actually written on, others that were blank. Where does he get those?

All I can think is that he is picking stuff up free in the lounges.

Oh, and the first thing he asked for in his new room were his "wheels. "I have four!" he exclaimed. The nurse had asked me if we could ditch two or three of the walkers, earlier, but we decided since his "wheels" were what he wanted most, we'd better not mess with them.

"I think he uses them to negotiate his room," I told her. "Props himself up going from one to the other."

"Yeah, but if he had only one, he could negotiate much easier.!"

Silly nurse.