Monday night/Tues Morn

Last night, Dad was doing a lot of independent moving again, and asking a lot of questions, like where is his office, and who lives in the house, who was the man that was here earlier, etc. He couldn't believe that Paul and I had been married for 19 years, or that I was 50 (I'll take that as a compliment!) I told him I was born in 1959, and immediately he said, well it can't be 2009, to which I said it is 2010, and showed him today's newspaper. He kept complaining about his back (I'm not going to be able to do much with this back") and saying he couldn't walk, yet kept getting up on his own after sitting for short periods of time. He wasn't seeking the walker much, and was moving fairly well, reaching out with his hands to hold things when needed (and of course I was watching him and helping if needed.) He kept asking about where his car was (which I explained he didn't have one here) and he kept saying we needed to go to the car so he could show me something. So I walked him to the garage and showed him my car, and that seemed to settle that.

I suspected he would get out of bed if I put him too early, so after going to the bathroom (during which he also got up), and geting his PJs on, I got him in his room in his chair to watch TV, while I was trying to get Dylan to bed. Of course, he wanted to get up again. Ryland helped me out by tossing the ball with him while I got Dylan to bed. Then I took over and he seemed to be getting a little tired, and a little more distracted from the discussion. Then I gave him a back/shoulder/head rub in the chair to try and relax him...eventually got him to bed by 10pm or so.

At 1:30am Ryland alerted me on the intercom that Dad was up and I came down the stairs to find him in the living room, walking with the walker. I took him back to his bedroom, took him to the bathroom (where his instinct was to pee standing up, which he did somewhat successfully), removed his wet diaper and was able to get him back to bed. He kept asking if we were "downtown" and making reference to sleeping in a bunk with people all around him and being lost. He was saying he didn't know how he got here...I told him I had brought him here a year ago. I reiterated, I'm your daughter Barbara, to which he responded, "Oh I understand you're my daughter Barbara." I explained he was safe here in my house. I decided to tie a tambourine to a string on the door so that if Dad came out again I would be more likely to hear (I do have the monitor, but he is so stealthy!).

When I woke up at 6:50 am this morning and came down the stairs, Dad was in the kitchen, holding a throw blanket, no walker. I got him to sit at the counter and gave him some juice, cereal and muffin to occupy him so I could prep my kids' lunches, get ready for school. Still wanted to get up a lot, and at one point said, "I guess I won't be able to play golf anymore with this back." After getting Dylan off to school, walked with Dad to the bedroom, and got him to sit on the toilet in the bathroom. On the way I mentioned that he was 93 years old and he said "really...that can't be true". I told him he was born in 1916, and again, he quickly did the math and said, well that's 84 years, to which I said that's 2000, but now it's 2010. Got him to the toilet and then Lois arrived. I'm guessing at some point he's going to hit a wall where he becomes really tired like he did last week after the two anxious days following his fall at Ken's...we'll see!