It's been an emotionally draining week. My dad traveled up to Pennsylvania at the beginning of the week so that he could take my grandparents, his parents, to Maryland so that my Pap could be evaluated for possible admission to Perry Point, a Veterans Home. Pap has been suffering from Progressive Dementia (dad calls it the psychological form of altzheimer's) for about 5 years now. Over about the past year, he has gotten much worse, remembering less and less, and becoming somewhat childlike. Dad said it was kind of tough to get "home" and have his own father not really know who he was. I noticed a big change in him when we saw him in September. He'd have his lucid moments of recognition, however apparently they've been fewer and far between in recent months. It's been especially hard on my Gram. I think she'd like to take care of him forever, but it's taken it's toll on her. She didn't feel good about leaving him at home by himself anymore, when caused her to stay home more, and she went through a bout of depression.
Many years ago, Pap told the family that if it ever came down to a point where a decision had to be made about his long term care that he wanted to be put in a Veteran's home. He was a WWII vet, and knew that they pride themselves in taking the best care of the people that risked their lives to fight for our country. Here in the last year it was decided that they would pursue Perry Point, if it came down to it, as it was not too far from their home town, and in an area where family was still close by. Plus, Perry Point is one of, if not the, best Vet's home in the country.
Anyway, Pap's evaluation was Tuesday. They did all the initial paperwork and such, and then Dad and Gram met with a social worker. The social worker made it pretty clear up front that there wasn't going to be any chance of Pap getting admitted...well for, forever! She said that they were taking in some of the injured soldiers from Iraq, then ones from the Gulf War, and down the line like that. You can imagine the frustration for Dad and Gram. And then the social worker asked some basic history questions from Pap's time in WWII. She asked if he'd suffered any long term effects from the war, which he had. She recored that, and they talked for a bit longer. She said she was going to try to cut through some of the red tape...had also collected medical records of Gram's and included them so that they could see the health effects that she was dealing with as well. She said they soonest they could even get his info in the computer would be Friday. The family departed and went back to my Aunt's house after lunch. Later that afternoon my Aunt checked her messages where she found one from the home. Lo and behold, they wanted to admit him on Thursday!!!!! All we can figure is that all the praying that had been done for the situation had made an impact on someone's heart there!!! Such rapid admission doesn't normally happen! God is always in control!
So, Pap was moved in on Thursday. He's already making friends, talking war, and has found himself a "spot" for reading. Gram has an apartment nearby that she can move into at the beginning of April. Right now she is at home, wrapping up the rest of the packing. It's a bittersweet time for everyone. We're all saying goodbye to their home...the home that Pap built for them...they are saying goodbye to the home they've known for 3/4 of their life! See....they've only known one home for 53 years of their marriage, and lived in the same home town their whole lives
I think the hardest thing is to see this disease which has changed my grandfather so much...and to know that it has progressed so much that his care needs to be given over to someone else besides family. We've always known him as this man, kind of larger than life in a way, strong as an ox, stubborn as a mule, but a big teddy bear at heart. He's always had a need to be busy, doing something. And the stories he'd tell...man! His mind was one of the sharpest things about him! He's got this wooden box that they kept up in the attic of all the things he'd brought back from WWII. He'd get so tickled when one of us would ask him to bring it down. He would sit there for hours and tell you about each item, where he found it, and what was going on at the moment he found it. He's even made special appearances at local schools to tell about his experiences and show is "treasures". There's a dagger of sorts that he has, usued mostly on dress uniforms of Nazi soldiers, that has been used by many family members as the cake cutting knife at weddings. In fact, we used at ours. The amusing part is that it has swasticas all over it, however we always wrapped it in ribbon to cover those. I know it sounds totally weird, but it has become one of those "heirloom" pieces that's become traditional to use. Most of his memorabelia is being donated to a local museum near their hometown, which is appropriate! He'd approve!
My brother and I still have all 4 of our grandparents, which is such an amazing blessing!!! Not many people can say that at the age that we are. We were talking this afternoon about how lucky we've been to be able to have them in our lives ever since we were born. They've played intrigal roles in our upbringing, encouraging us every step of the way. Now they've been around to see the first of their great-grandchildren born into the family, and have gotten to know them, as they did us. I wish they could be around forever!
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