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.

Yard work, I hate it!

We are about to enter our second summer since daddy's diagnosis.  Last summer presented a yard work challenge: Daddy wanted to do it.  At the beginning of the summer things were ok - we even still allowed the kids to ride with him on the riding lawn mower.  As the summer progressed (we're in the south and this year the summer pretty much extended to the end of October) we had to make some changes.  By mid-summer the kids were no longer allowed to ride with their papa; at the end they weren't even allowed to be outside if he was doing working.  We arrived at that decision when we noticed Daddy swinging around the bush cutter (picture a weed eater with a blade instead of string).  Every week some piece of lawn equipment would break which made daddy so angry at Sears' poor repair job and boy would he slander them (Sears never repaired any of the equipment).  At the time we didn't have the heart to take away this chore he loves to do, which also gives him a sense of pride.  In addition to doing mine and my parent's lawn care, he appointed himself yardman for his neighbors.  He'd weed eat or bush cut about half an acre back into the woods for his neighbors.  These sweet people knew about his disease and figured he wasn't doing any harm.  Though one older neighbor kept a keen eye on him - making sure he didn't undo all of her hard work.
By the end of summer my mama had paid who knows how much for the repairs from daddy's yardwork.  Both of our lawns had bald patches where daddy would weed eat in just one spot.  We looked forward to fall: when we could put away the equipment and have a much needed break.    Seasons change: so here we are, the grass is high and daddy's getting ready for yard work.  This year he has no business trying to use the bush cutter nor the riding lawn mower.  Already he's gotten upset, thinking my husband has borrowed his tools and not returned them - "what was he raised in a barn?"  The tools turned out to be in my parent's garage. 
So I feel like the bad guy - I'm suggesting that daddy start going every day to the adult facility, unless someone is home with him. 
This disease is crazy: in one moment I can chuckle at my daddy's determination to rid his loved one's yards of tall grass; and in the next moment I cry at his inability to do so - a task that was once so simple for him.