The assessment

Yesterday we finally got the assessment done.  Well the preliminary version.  It's been six months.  A nice fellow came by our house and spoke with Dad for about 45 minutes.  It started off with medical history, and a few memory questions here and there. 

I was on the fence about wether it should be all three of us, or only myself and Dad.  I decided it was in his best interest to just have me there.  

Once we got past the preliminary questions, we moved on to memory questions.  While I was fully aware that he was having some troubles, when it's right in your face with a medical professional it becomes much more real. 

Honestly these are easy questions.  Have you been married before (yes once, nope! twice actually Dad), what was your wifes name?  nothing.  Where are we?  What is the street address?  Nothing.  Who is this (points at me).  "That's my buddy!".  Yes but what is his name?  it starts with an S, or "Sh-eh".  

At this point Dad was becoming agitated.  I don't blame him.  I think he thought he was failing.  When you've been keeping it a secret for so long, I get it.   A few more memory tests.  

Once we were into the 3rd or 4th memory test Dad just said "enough, you need to leave, get out!" and pointed at the door.  "I'm sick of this shit, what is it for????"  etc. 

We moved on to a very trimmed down version of a physical to try and get thru it as fast as possible.  

My nerves are shot.  At this point my heart is banging in my chest. 

Finally we complete the initial assessment.  The gentleman leaves.  I can tell Dad is sad, and upset.  The only thing I could think of doing is to FLIP THE SCRIPT.  I grabbed my guitar, cranked up youtube on the TV and played along with a pile of songs.  He started toe tapping and just sat and listened.  

My intention was to take him out for lunch, but at this point it was still quite early.  Only about 10:30.  The whole thing only took an hour.  

We decided to get our crap together and go to the mall to see if I could find a new winter coat and boots.  That didn't take too long, then we went out for lunch. 

At this point, I'm fucking shot.  Get home, drop him off and then I go out because I just can't fucking deal with this. 

Spent the rest of the afternoon with my uncle chatting and having a beer on his front steps.  When I was driving, I saw Dad out and about near the bank.  Likely trying to pay a fictitious bill. 

There's obviously more to the assessment that happened, but this is enough information that you know what happens.  Next steps is the FULL workup.  We go into geriatric care and they run a multitude of tests.  From what I gather, he will be with a social worker (happy person/caregiver) and then we will also be ran thru a pile of conversations with nurses/social workers etc. 

Eventually what is going to happen is that we will start getting home care, and we will be able to get him on the "Outing bus".  It's $20 a week, they pick him up and go places. 

From what I gather it's extremely important for us to be as honest as possible when talking to the social workers/nurses etc.

From there, who knows, maybe we will get him into a place?  I'm still working on applications for that.  In the initial assessment yesterday he was deemed fairly independent.  In that he does cook for himself, has showers by himself without help (although we need to remind him).  He is in immaculate physical health all things concerned.  So that is one bonus.  I mean what 71 year old is riding around Winnipeg on bike???? So that's good news. 

One of things that the assessment person asked was when did you notice a change?  I think it happened fairly quickly in all honesty.  Which from what I gather is quite concerning.  Prior to January when I would called Dad he would always answer the phone "ah my son, my son!".  After january it was just "hey".  Something was off.  I knew he was having problems in the last few years, but after january it got worse.  

I do not know if I've stated this on the blog, but I found out he was no longer sleeping in his condo but was sleeping in his workshop on cement in the basement.  Which is why when he moved in with us, he brought 6 sleeping bags.  I think he thought his place was sold.  Which it wasn't it was just up for sale.  

I do not wish this on anyone.  I've made my peace with the fact that I am a primary caregiver to my Dad.  As the last few months have gone along though, my actual Dad has slipped away.  He has been replaced with a guy named Mickey who is confused, sometimes happy, sometimes sad.