I told my father a couple of weeks ago that he has Alzheimer’s. Actually, I told him he has Dementia and could expect his memory to get worse, because the word Alzheimer’s is so loaded. They can’t technically determine that until after death anyway, so I figured why go there. I told him that for the last couple of years when he was telling me that he felt like he was physically healthy but that he noticed big changes in his head, he was right. I used to tell him that I forget stuff all the time, too, but he knew what he was talking about.

He took the news pretty well. I mean, it’s not as if he didn’t know something was wrong. His primary concern is that he doesn’t want to be a burden. I told him that the best thing he could do for me is to allow aides to come and help him so that I know he is safe and comfortable. I also asked him if he would wear a Safe Return bracelet in case he gets disoriented outside his apartment. He was incredibly agreeable. I was a little skeptical but pleased that it went so well.

Now that a couple of weeks have passed, reality has set in. He calls to say that he doesn’t like having all of these people around. He won’t let the aide prepare or shop for food. He doesn’t want them to accompany him anywhere, unless it is a doctor’s appointment. Basically, the only thing he will let them do is clean the apartment and take care of the laundry. It is hard to know exactly how much help he needs. He can bathe and dress himself. He doesn’t cook, but he didn’t do that when he was perfectly healthy and he can get himself to the deli or the coffee shop for something to eat. However, his short-term memory is shot, he can’t pay his bills or do his banking without help, and he gets very confused. He will call me in a panic that his taxes haven’t been paid when they have, or he got a piece of mail that he doesn’t understand, or someone has shown up to work that he didn’t ask for and can’t afford. Sometimes 10 times a day. He can’t remember who is showing up when, how they get paid or who is paying. I have written it all down but he doesn’t remember that he has the information. Most of the time, the aide doesn’t have a lot to do, but if they aren’t there he sometimes gets confused and his anxiety spins out of control. While all of this is going on, my Dad’s ladyfriend, who lives in the building next door, is not well and he wants to send his aide over there. How much help is enough and how much is too much?

Ever since my parents divorced when I was 12 my Dad and I have always had an unspoken non-interference pact. He tried to make up for my controlling, overbearing mother by making no demands. There have been times when I wish he would show a little more active interest in my life or the life of my family. In the over 20 years since I moved away from New York he has only visited me once. I even bought him a plane ticket that went unused. A lot of this had to do with the travel “needs” of his girlfriend who refused to stay with us and demanded a hotel, but, frankly, it hurt my feelings that he would never just visit without her. But he left me alone, so I did the same for him. We love each other and are always happy to spend time together when I’m in the city, but our relationship has never been particularly intimate. All of a sudden I’m in his business in a big way. I demand that the apartment be cleaned and his laundry done. I try to make sure he is eating properly. I know everything about his finances, medical care and daily habits. There’s a reason he never remarried. He really doesn’t want anyone on his case about how to live his life and conduct his affairs. Now, that person is me and neither of us is too thrilled about it. We are both trying to be patient with each other, but I feel a storm brewing and think this will get more difficult as we go.