My father has Alzheimer’s. My 84 year old mother has been caring for him at home. Every day for the past 2 years he has been a little less my dad. In fact, he hasn’t been MY DAD for months now. He’s gone.  He lives trapped in his head in a place between fear and confusion. It is a cruel disease. We are suffering. He is suffering.

He fell on New Year’s Eve and broke his hip (well, probably the other way around, actually) and was admitted through the ER. The fracture would require surgical repair.  However, it wasn’t going to be that simple.

My dad’s body has been deteriorating because of the Alzheimer’s. He was severely dehydrated and not producing enough platelets. The fracture site was depleting his stores further. The doctors were concerned he wasn’t healthy enough for surgery, so they started pumping him full of fluids and platelets and blood and morphine and haldol because — and this is the very best part — the Alzheimer’s creates anxiety and fear but also prevents the morphine from having a sedative effect and the steroid causes more fear and confusion and agitation so not only is my dad in pain, he is now combative. My docile, go-with-the-flow, stay-in-your-lane, peacekeeping daddy is pulling at his IV and fighting the bed and trying to get up, further damaging the fracture.

All I ever wished for my dad was peace. I wish him peace. When his single kidney (he only has one due to renal cancer 25 years ago) started to fail, I was grateful for the blessing. We could manage his pain and keep him comfortable and let his body do what it needed to do to help him go quietly. I wish him peace.

But I’m alone in my prayer because the medical team insists on treating his body instead of the patient and so HURRAH, he is strong enough for surgery! His kidney function is restored and the platelets are stabilized! Congratulations, Dr. Frankenstein — in your desire to save his life, you have condemned him hell.

They keep talking about his “quality of life”. I don’t think they understand what that means.

Because, you see, there is no such thing as “better”. My father is not going to be well, even if he can walk again. He won’t come home again. He will go from here to rehab to a long-term care facility. And he will be lost and afraid and angry and drugged into a stupor.  While they have been so focused on being right they have completely lost sight of what is good. (my closest friend always said that and I thought it is just the smartest and most courageous thing I’ve ever heard).

So, I still wish my dad peace. And I am praying to ease his pain and I will tell him again that it is ok to let go. And I will pray that the people in power will be blessed with good sense and that the people with good sense will get power and that the rest of us will survive in the meantime.