Everybody needs a hobby

Daddy is built to be productive; it's the cloth he was cut from.  He started working when he was just a kid for uncles during the summer.  Not little "jobs" I'd give my kids today, but real honest to goodness hard work.  While still a teenager he entered the freight business.  His calves will attest to his many years of dedication - my husband described them recently as what you would see on a drawing of a superhero - hard angles not rounded.  Most years he would work two and sometimes three jobs to provide more things and opportunities for his kids, than he had for himself. 

Since being helpful is in his DNA, he's struggled with not working.  In the earlier stages of his disease he was still able to do yardwork (see previous post as to why we're thankful he no longer does this - though he still offers).   Daddy has always been helpful around the house; so early on he would cook, do laundry, dishes and try to tackle minor repairs.  The repairs and yard work were the first to go - he doesn't have the cognitive ability to follow the procedures to complete such tasks.  He still likes to bake cakes, but only can do so with Mama's help.  He's no longer home alone, so if he gets the urge to cook up something - someone would be around to assist.  Daddy still tries to do the dishes and laundry - though you have to check because they may not actually be washed or maybe they were run through a cycle, but without soap.  Since I have a large family, Daddy was so helpful when mount dirty clothes took over my house.  Nowadays I just send him sheets to wash.   As for dishes you definitely have to follow up.  Many times I've been over at their house, reached in the cabinet to pull out a dirty dish, bowl, fork, etc. 

It must be hard, losing the ability to provide even basic help for those who you've given your all to ensure their security and comfort.  With FTD it's hard to tell sometimes what Daddy's really thinking.  Thankfully, most of the time he's not too keenly aware of particulars of his diminished capacity. 

The main thing Daddy can still do and is perfectly happy to offer his services is Cutting Coupons.  He has been scissor happy for almost 2 years.  I coupon and his act of service started by helping me.  Each week we buy Daddy a double paper and he goes to town.  Now anytime we're in a grocery story, he picks up any flyer's that may have a coupon - just so he'll have you covered. 

You can see the affects of FTD on his coupon cutting.  In the beginning he would clip only the grocery item coupons, then came any store's coupon that was in the Sunday paper.  He started to clip out sections of the flyer's that look like coupons (anything that had edges).  Now we're up to just cutting out anything from the flyer's.  Today we saw where he had cut out the shape of a bottle of ketchup.   Though this does make me sad, I thought - Art Class.  We can take what Daddy clips and donate it for collages and other arts & crafts projects.  When he reaches the point where he can't handle regular scissors; we'll just buy the safety ones. 

When you are battling FTD you have to find what works: what's safe and makes your loved one happy.  Last Sunday Daddy called me up to see if I knew there was a coupon for the local mall and did I need it.  That's my Daddy, still taking care of his little girl. 

So if you have any coupons in need of clipping, I just might know a guy.

What's normal?

Today I received a phone call from an old friend.  We briefly caught up on each other's lives from the past several months and he mentioned that he's read this blog. I talked about how Daddy has been lately - what's become our new routine, our new way of life.  I let my mind wander to a thought I mull over when things are quiet.  Pause: I have a husband, three children and I work outside of the home, so life isn't often that quiet.  When I do have a bit of alone time my mind develops this before and after list.  It's almost like an advertisement for such & such diet complete with before and after photos.  In my mind I see two images of my daddy:  Before FTD and After FTD. 

My family is pretty upbeat.  We try to take life in stride and make the best of what we've been given.  We cope with our new way of life with a heavy side of humor / mostly self-depreciating.   On a recent trip to Dairy Queen , Daddy informed me that he's still quite capable of driving, "I know I could operate the car, I just don't know if I could get back"; he said with a smile.  Since I believe life is what you make it, I try to put on my big girl boots, keep calm and carry on. 

Since my mind wandered to the Before and After comparisons, I had a whole set of sad emotions welling up and thought a post is in order. 

Before FTD:
My daddy could do so many things and build anything.  He built my oldest daughter's nursery - complete with built in bookshelves and a window bench.  If I ever needed anything fixed, I'd give my daddy a call and he's been there and it would be fixed.  Many times on his days off he'd come over to my house and do yard work or some other project, just because he's built to be productive, it's who he is. For the last several years when he was still working, he'd call me everyday on his way home from work.  This became a joke between my mama & I because he'd call me to see if I needed anything, but not her.  Daddy and I would go grocery shopping and he'd make fun of my lack of math skills when I'd have to ask him for the hundredth time, "so if it's 3 for $1.00 it's how much each?" - finally I memorized the answer just to impress him. 
Daddy would pick up the kids from school and it was a must to stop by the store for a drink and snack.  He would take them to the dump, out to lunch or anywhere they wanted to go and they would rather be with him than anyone else in the world.  He would light up when any of the grand kids walked into the room. 
He was always fairly shy and wouldn't talk much.  He was so good and would do just about anything for anyone.  He was my daddy!

After FTD:
Daddy can't build things anymore - with our assistance we might be able to accomplish a small task, but no more flooring, decks, woodwork, etc.  When he tries to do yard work, if he doesn't break the tool, he ends up not finishing the work, working on a patch of dirt or just going over the same spot. 
Since Daddy no longer works or drives he doesn't run errands for me nor is he able to take the kids off, just he and them.  Though he still makes fun of my lack of math skills, our grocery shopping trips look quite different.  We'll walk through the store and he'll pick up things he has to have or things he want to get for the kids, all the while saying, "Now this is going to come out of my money!"  He still has a cell phone, though some times he has difficulty operating the phone; he doesn't call me too often.  Some days when I pick him up from the facility, he'll get a mischievous look in his eye and suggest we stop for ice cream.  If he's with us when we pick up the kids from school and if he has pocket money; Daddy insists we stop off at the store for drinks and snacks.  Daddy takes great pride in the fact that the grand kids have voted him best chocolate milk maker - probably because he pours excessive amounts of chocolate syrup in the mix.  He still adores the grand kids, but he doesn't light up when he sees them like he use to. 
Not so shy anymore, Daddy will talk to anyone and eavesdrops on most conversations so he can join the chat.  He is still a very good man and he is my daddy!

The way Daddy looks is different now too, often he'll have either a vacant or confused look on his face.  He looks older - though he's young, still in his 50's. 

It's been a hard shift.  Even as an adult, I relied so much on my Daddy and he did so much for me.  Now I have to protect him, make sure he's where he needs to be, help figure out the what he's trying tell us, and try to make sense of any compulsions he may have. 
Though the change has been very fast, and I've grieved losing aspects of what made him my Daddy, it can still be overwhelming when the Befores & Afters pop up in my mind.
Like all change the After becomes the new normal; we grow and adapt.  Change is inevitable and the best thing we can do is to is to put on our big girl/boy boots, keep calm and carry on.