Disintegration of filters

As Alzheimer's progresses, patients start to loose the filters that make everyday socialization pleasant. When I first started caring for my dad I usually brought the girls along to help and Mike would meet us there after work. As Dad's condition has progressed, some disturbing symptoms have caused me to limit the children's exposure to him. My father grew up in a different time. He lived through WWII as a boy, saw desegregation, served in the military during Vietnam, witnessed the cold war and the fall of the Berlin Wall, saw the women's rights movement and affirmative action. He lived in a time when bigotry was widespread and silently acceptable. When most of one's life has been spent harboring accepted bigotry, no matter how one might try to get over it or at least keep it under wraps as social climates change, those feelings often remain under the surface. People who carry prejudice with them through social change, filter their thoughts and feelings and what they express to others. Alzheimer's causes the filters to slowly disintegrate, much to the embarrassment and dismay of their caregivers.

Our family lives in a racially blended part of Texas,  firmly embedded in the bible belt. Both of my daughters are blond and blue eyed in schools that are primarily black and Hispanic. Dad had never hidden his prejudice from his children growing up but was at least able to maintain respectful silence and curb his natural desire to speak his mind in mixed company. A few years ago these filters slowly gave way at very awkward times. I would have a hard time pin pointing when exactly I noticed his growing lack of self-censorship but it only took one of Kelly's choir concerts for me to stop  wanting to bring him. For some reason Dad is incapable of whispering so amid having to remind him repeatedly of why we were all sitting in the high school theater, he would punctuate the performance with lovely statements like "Look at all the spooks!" and "Doesn't this school have any white kids?". Even more embarrassing was when he not-so-quietly called attention to the cornrow hairstyle of the young girl sitting in front of us. I resolved not to bring him to any more performances but occasionally Paula would bring him anyway, cautiously sitting in the far back.

His remarks were just as bad, in fact blatantly worse, during visits to his home. Baseball, once something we could enjoy together is now completely off the table...particularly the start of the game with the national anthem. To say Dad is a purist would be putting it mildly. He hates when a soloist gets creative or puts some soulful or R&B spin on it. When that happens, which is most of the time, He will erupt, yelling, "God DAMMIT!! Why can't they just sing it like it is??"

One of the worst incidents was after the Boston Marathon bombing. After the bombers had been identified, I had to go over for a visit. He sat at the table and I turned on the news as I made dinner. Of course there was a report on tv about new developments. As I put food on the table and sat down he suddenly became very angry about the report and blurted out "Why do we keep letting these god damned jews in the country??" I tried to stay composed but he had really hit a nerve. Mike is Jewish. I barely kept my cool as I said "Dad, those aren't Jews. They are Chechnyans and Jihadists. My husband is Jewish." He wouldn't let go, though, inspite of actually seeing the report on the TV in front of him. "Yes they are! They're GOD DAMNED JEWS!!"
I lost it...I slammed my hands on the table and exploded "NO! THEY! ARE! NOT! THEY ARE CHECHNYANS AND TERRORISTS!!! MY HUSBAND AND YOUR GRAND DAUGHTER ARE JEWISH!!!" I had never in my life yelled at my dad so he sat there stunned for a few seconds. Then, in a move of complete denial, he said "You need to leave now". I replied angrily, "That is an excellent idea"...grabbed my things and walked out. I was shaking and didn't start to cry until a few blocks away. I called Paula and choked out what had happened. She was horrified but quickly jumped to dad's defense. "You know it's just the disease, don't you Erin. Dad loves Mike and has never had a bad thing to say about him. It's not about Mike. It's the disease."  We talked about it for a while, about how it's not just the bigotry. He frequently will just call people on TV assholes for no apparent reason. As Paula said, "It's as if he just fancies the sound of it. Like he knows he can get away with it and enjoys that little bit of control."

Let me be clear, I know it's the disease. I cannot express that enough. Two days later the memory of that incident was wiped from his memory as if it had never happened...and somehow that doesn't make it any better. Since that incident I have had a much harder time tolerating his out bursts and will stubbornly call him out on them. Being stubborn is rarely productive but at least there is some satisfaction in voicing my distaste.

It's easy enough to tell the kids that grandpa is not able to control some of the things he says but sometimes he gets too personal. Neither of my girls are tall and sometimes he has asked uncomfortable questions about whether they have shown signs of puberty such as body hair, development of curves, etc, out of concern that they may stop growing and forgetting that Allison is already being treated for IGHD. It would not bother me so much if he was only asking these questions once but for some reason his concern triggers a loop. Kelly was a late bloomer and endured the questions a couple of times before she started asking not to come along on visits. When Dad started asking the same questions about Allison I stopped bringing her as well, afraid his questions would make her self conscious.

When Kelly finally matured she turned out to be quite curvacious, triggering another loop. Every time he would see her he would tell me, "Your problems have just begun", not realizing that he says that every time she comes over. I think he means it as a compliment but I find it a little sexist especially after I tell him, "She's pretty smart. I'm not worried." to which he responds, "Just wait..." and mimicking a girl's voice, "Mom, I'm pregnant."  Comments like this really chap me. He doesn't realize he's not warning me about potential problems I'm not already aware of, he thinks he's being the voice of wisdom and experience...really it sounds more like he is questioning my parenting ability and her ability to exercise good judgement.

Dad can be very chauvinistic in his views, something I find strange considering how he pushed his daughters toward the sciences, encouraging us toward engineering, a male dominated field. Finding himself in the position of being cared for by his children, four of whom are girls, has been difficult for him. He will frequently lash out in juvenile ways, feeding his dinner to the dog right in front of us if he would rather not eat, stubbornly refusing to take his medication unless there is some incentive like a dessert, refusing to bathe for days no matter how we plead with him. Sometimes it's like arguing with a six-year-old. When he finally is forced to give in and do whatever we are asking, he will disdainfully exclaim, "WOMEN!!" Most of the time I blow it off but one time on a particularly trying visit I shot back, "WOMEN are keeping you alive! You're welcome!" Another time he said, "You're as bad as your mother!!" I responded, "Thank you! And you're welcome!" , spinning it as a compliment.

He is a master at finding the thing you are most sensitive about and sticking you with it. For me it's my height. I am 4' 11" and am usually the shortest person in the room. My parents never made me feel small or that my height was a setback. That is why it surprises me that he likes to jab me about my height; he never used to do that. Now if I knock on the door of his house and he comes to open the door he will make a big show of looking over my head and pretending he can't see anyone at the door, pretending to turn to walk away. The first time he did that was mildly amusing but it quickly lost it's charm after he repeated it over and over and over and over, seriously the longest loop he's ever had since it's still in progress even today.  After a while it just started pissing me off and making me feel defective and unappreciated. The first time he did it I laughed, maybe even the second time. By the third time it was old and I just said, "Hilarious", as I walked in. After that I said, "Ha ha, I'm short, you're old...can we just have dinner?" After a while I wouldn't even knock but would let my self in so he couldn't pull his trick at the door, but it didn't matter...he just did the same stupid joke as he sat in his chair. The only way I avoid the joke now is to play with his giant, over excited dog when I walk in, effectively distracting him long enough to forget his joke.

I can't help getting riled up by his constant jabs and seeming ingratitude. I know the reality is that he is always glad to see me and never wants me to leave. Whenever I say I have to leave, no matter how long I've been there he protests, "NO! You just got here!!"
"No, Dad, I've been here for hours" I tell him."I gotta go."
"Why???"
"Because I don't live here. I have a husband and kids."
"Well, why'd you go do a dumb thing like that?"

No matter how angry he makes me or how he tries to guilt me, I know he's just afraid to be alone. The house is so empty without mom, and since he can't remember from day to day who visits and how often, he has no idea the effort we are all making to keep him in his own house for as long as possible so he feels safe and has some sense of control. Being in a position of power has always been so important to him that to lose authority over his own life could be devastating. Paula and Hillary believe that to move him out of the house he and mom shared would be a death sentence. Knowing Dad, they are probably right.