Valkyre

The Phone Call I've Dreaded

My Dad's health has been in a slow decline for the past few years. Decades of alcoholism have finally caught up to him. In late 2005, he had a manic episode which was caused by a reaction between two of the many prescription meds he had been taking. Once he was weaned off of those, he slowly got better. But, there was some damage done. We never did get our old Dad back. We had to slowly accept our "new" dad. Then, my sister called me the other day.

"Dad has been diagnose with dementia."

I am holding the phone to my ear concentrating on the cinderblock wall across from me. I notice details that I have overlooked almost every day the four years that I have worked here.

"So this is it, isn't it? There's nothing that can be done. No magic pills!? Nothing......"

"Yes...."

He thinks he's living in either 1947, or 1977. He has lost all interest in the things he used to love.

I know that now, he probably needs us the most. To visit him, and support him. But, I don't want to see him. Not like this. I feel like shit.

Posted by Valkyre at August 18, 2007 11:26 PM