The Fall
In June of 2013, I was five months pregnant and preparing to come home for a Baby Shower my mom's friends were hosting for me. Sometime in the beginning of that month I got a call that started out with "don't worry but..." followed up with finding out that earlier in the day my dad had fallen at work. He had tripped on a curb. The details were fuzzy, but basically his ankle was hurt and he'd also hit his head. His ankle was the big worry at the time because of his work and love for golf. Again, I was told not to worry, so I didn't. No big deal. It was a little strange though, to my mom at least, as my dad never got hurt. He wasn't the clumsy type so she didn't understand how it happened, and he couldn't tell her. At the time, we didn't know it, but after much research and many consultations with doctors, we believe when he hit his head it rapidly accelerated his symptoms.
Flash forward a few weeks and I came home for my shower. My dads ankle was huge, definitely cause for concern but the bigger concern? He wasn't talking. I got in a few days early and he barely said anything to Mike or I. He'd shuffle out the door to work, home for a nap, once he asked me to spell something for him, not completely uncommon, but the word was something my now son could spell. He also was having trouble writing checks and asked me to help him fill them out. By ask, I mean basically motioned to me. When I commmented about it, he would just laugh, and so would I.
My in-laws drove in for the shower, as well as tons of family and friends but my dad still didn't say a word. He would laugh at appropriate times, nod along to questions but no real words. We were always in large group settings so I thought it was his hearing. Maybe he couldn't focus on just one conversation because of his hearing? After everyone left, he would talk to me, not like normal but kind of normal. When I left I asked him to see a hearing doctor, he said he would and over the next month I basically harassed him until he did. He actually stopped taking my phone calls one day because I wouldn't stop asking if he'd called the doctor yet. It took a few weeks until he had an appointment and I was shocked when he called to tell me the doctor said his hearing was normal. I even asked my mom to call to check. Just like my dad said, it was normal. Looking back, I think he was scared to go to the hearing doctor because he knew. He had to have known it wasn't his hearing.
By then, I was back in Miami, and our usual morning phone calls were predictable. He'd answer "Ken!" Instead of 'hello' and exchange a few other common phrases 'how are ya' 'have a good day' 'love you,' but otherwise, we never had an in-depth conversation again. I'd also noted he'd seemingly forgotten how to text, which he'd picked up on before I left for Miami and could do well until around Christmas of 2012, just after we'd gotten Sabrina, and just before we shared our pregnancy news.
It was around August of 2013 I really started confiding in Mike; just after the hearing test results. I just knew it was something bad, I never knew it would be this bad. I wish I'd trusted my gut. I wish I'd gone with my instinct. Maybe we could have slowed all this down, but really who knew? Who could have ever guessed that my daddy had developed the most rare form of dementia there is. It still makes me sick to my stomach to think about.
Flash forward a few weeks and I came home for my shower. My dads ankle was huge, definitely cause for concern but the bigger concern? He wasn't talking. I got in a few days early and he barely said anything to Mike or I. He'd shuffle out the door to work, home for a nap, once he asked me to spell something for him, not completely uncommon, but the word was something my now son could spell. He also was having trouble writing checks and asked me to help him fill them out. By ask, I mean basically motioned to me. When I commmented about it, he would just laugh, and so would I.
My in-laws drove in for the shower, as well as tons of family and friends but my dad still didn't say a word. He would laugh at appropriate times, nod along to questions but no real words. We were always in large group settings so I thought it was his hearing. Maybe he couldn't focus on just one conversation because of his hearing? After everyone left, he would talk to me, not like normal but kind of normal. When I left I asked him to see a hearing doctor, he said he would and over the next month I basically harassed him until he did. He actually stopped taking my phone calls one day because I wouldn't stop asking if he'd called the doctor yet. It took a few weeks until he had an appointment and I was shocked when he called to tell me the doctor said his hearing was normal. I even asked my mom to call to check. Just like my dad said, it was normal. Looking back, I think he was scared to go to the hearing doctor because he knew. He had to have known it wasn't his hearing.
By then, I was back in Miami, and our usual morning phone calls were predictable. He'd answer "Ken!" Instead of 'hello' and exchange a few other common phrases 'how are ya' 'have a good day' 'love you,' but otherwise, we never had an in-depth conversation again. I'd also noted he'd seemingly forgotten how to text, which he'd picked up on before I left for Miami and could do well until around Christmas of 2012, just after we'd gotten Sabrina, and just before we shared our pregnancy news.
It was around August of 2013 I really started confiding in Mike; just after the hearing test results. I just knew it was something bad, I never knew it would be this bad. I wish I'd trusted my gut. I wish I'd gone with my instinct. Maybe we could have slowed all this down, but really who knew? Who could have ever guessed that my daddy had developed the most rare form of dementia there is. It still makes me sick to my stomach to think about.
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