18/08/2026
Over the past couple of days I have had the harsh reminder of just how nasty this disease is.
One of my dad's closest friends called me the other day to check in. He started the call with "Niece, how's your dad going, he seems...". My response was factual. It honestly, just came out, without thinking about the impact it would have on him. My response was simple, he's doing ok...he's progressing as you can tell. I told him he is around the mindset of a 6 or 7 year old at this time, as far as where he is in his independence and functioning. I could tell when I said that, that it hit him...the reality of my father's decline. After I hung up, it hit me...maybe I could have softened the way I brought "him up to speed", because it was a very factual tone and statement. I lacked empathy for how one of my dad's longest friends may have been impacted by that information. Made me question myself, am I becoming desensitized?
One thing I know is that everybody handles the reality of this disease, differently and I cannot hold that against any person. My thoughts throughout the day after that call were simple...another friend, gone.
Please know that I do not mean that in a rude or hurtful way, or to speak any malice against my dad's friend...unfortunately it is a reality to which I have accustomed to. I have said it here before and it took me a long time to wrap my mind around it, but not everyone can handle loosing someone, the way that my father is being lost. Now in my heart of hearts, do I hope I am wrong...ABSOLUTELY. These are the times where I am 100% ok with being proven wrong.
Over the past few weeks it has become more evident that my dad doesn't know where he is or where he is living. For the longest he has thought he is living in Arkansas and if I had to place a state of residence on it...I'd say that is where he is at now in his world.
What I do know is that he does not realize, most days, that he is living in his own home. This weekend I made him lunch and placed it on the counter for him. He knocked on my door about 1:30p asking if I would make him something to eat, cause he was hungry. So I walked over to his side of the house, to make him something to eat, only to find the lunch I had made earlier was still sitting there. When I showed him the food that I made him a little while earlier, he told me he saw it but he wasn't sure if it was his. He thought that the man that owned the place had left that, he didn't know that I had made it for him.
Needless to say, when I reassured him it was his and that I had made it, he was real fat kid happy lol. Sat outside on the porch in his chair and of course told me "I don't care what anybody says, I got a good daughter". Of course, I always tell him...he ain't got a choice but to say that lol.
Then there are days like today, where things happen and it makes me question....am I really a good daughter.
This morning, I left for work and we did our normal morning routine. I came over, woke him up by yelling "good morning ol man" as I entered the house. Got him his water and his meds, while I warmed up his little sausage biscuits. He did his normal "fussing" about waking him up, when I know he was sleeping good and of course I reminded him that if I got to get up...he does too lol. I told him I'd see him when I got home from work and told him I loved him. He told me he's got more love for me and I told him that's not possible. As I got in my car to backout, he stood in the doorway watching.
His caregiver, Daze, got to the house about 11am like she usually does, and then I got a text. She asked me if he burnt something in the kitchen and I told her not that I know of, from when I was there this morning. Now, my dad has a history of microwaving things to long and so the burnt smell lingers in the house. She told me the smell was pretty bad, so I immediately went to look at the camera to see what may have happened.
That's when I watched and saw, what has scared me the most, in our entire journey. My dad put his breakfast sandwiches in the microwave and proceeded to walk over to the sink in the kitchen and brush his teeth. During that time, he brushed his teeth three times (from putting new toothpaste on the toothbrush, brushing, spitting the whole thing) and had no idea that the microwave was even going. As I am watching him brush his teeth for the third time, I see the smoke starting to come out of the microwave...and my daddy, just kept brushing his teeth. It was about 45 seconds of smoke when he went over to the microwave and opened the door. He went to reach and pull the food out but did not, I think he realized it was hot. So he left the door open for a second...then he came back and pulled out two very charred sausage biscuits.
He proceeded to take out the microwave glass plate, wash it, dry it, and then put it back into the microwave as if nothing ever happened.
When Daze asked him about it, he had no idea what she was talking about. He told her the guy who owns the place must have done something. He told her that some guy who owns the place brought him the sandwiches.
So as of today, August 17th at 8:52pm here is what I do know...today scared me. Today was the first day, down the hardest part of this journey yet, which is my biggest fear...becoming my reality. Keeping my daddy safe.
Today, we got lucky. Today, he opened up the microwave in time for there not to be a real fire...but the reality is...it could have been. The reality is that we were probably a minute or so away from the microwave catching on fire and then what?
So now, I am in "survival mode". Simply put, figure out the the plan to keep him safe and deal with the emotions later. The immediate plan...have his caregiver come in earlier, but I am also aware that that is not a permanent fix to this very sh*tty journey we are on. The question that I have continually asked myself, is when will I know its time for me to start looking at options outside of the home for my dad. My answer has always been, until you cannot keep him safe.
Today, I was not able to keep him safe. Today, we were lucky.