A man of the people

On Friday, I made arrangements for Dad to visit an assisted living facility. I had already been to the place twice, once with Mom, once with my son. I wanted as much input about this decision as I could get. Yes, the decision to place dad in a "home." The "home" is beautiful! They have a movie theater with comfy recliners and fresh popcorn, a pool with a treadmill in it, happy hour with lie music, a little putting green, and more! I really thought that once he was acclimated, he would love it! he could get dressed up (as he likes to do nearly every day), and wander the halls and dining room, flirting and laughing with all of the residents. After all, as my uncle says, "Jon's a man of the people."

Dad is high-functioning, so trying to fool him, even with his dementia, is pretty challenging. I knew that I had to create some kind of smoke-screen to get away with this one. The smoke-screen for today would be George, his good friend from Memory Class. I had recently met George's wife and knew that his family had made the decision to place George in this cool home. He would be there on Friday for his introductory lunch, and perhaps his family would welcome Dad's presence as a way to warm George up to the moment. In doing so, I would be able to share the place with Dad, and under a completely innocent guise! It was bound to work.

On the way there I had to explain to Dad at least 10 times where we were going and why. "Dad, you are doing this to help your friend. His wife asked that we join them so that George feels more comfortable about the transition. You are being a good friend." He would buy this for about a minute then flash at me, "I know what you're up to. You are thinking of putting me in there." Every single time! Daggumit! How does he know? Like a dog who can smell out cancer, Dad can smell out bullshit - EVEN WITH DEMENTIA!

Dad was great. He played the role of chummy friend beautifully. He made George laugh and brought the whole table to an easy place of conversation as he broke George's nervousness, and even more so the nervousness of George's wife. As it was time to part ways Dad and George mocked at how old the residents were. The irreverently joked about having wheelchair races in the hallways or canoodling with the nurses. They were like two awful frat boys, completely oblivious to their inappropriate behavior, but at this particular moment, it was perfect. George hugged Dad goodbye. As we left with our complimentary cheesecakes, packed up in plastic boxes with a rather silly ribbon on top, Dad turned to me and said, "Don't you ever put me in that home!" I nervously laughed and replied, "What? What are you talking about? We were just there to help George, Dad."

We drove away. Dad turned to me and asked, "Where were we just now?" I replied, "at George's new home, Dad." He responded, with an ease in his voice, "We should go back and see George again next week. He needs me." Yep Dad, he does. A man of the people.

(Dad and his brother)