Home - My Brother, part 3

        I wasn't going to write any more aboutmy brother – my mother would kill me for sharing all this personal stuff. Butas I mentioned here once before, if anything I say can give hope to someonegoing through the same nightmare, then it's worth the risk.

          So, the big day to move my brotherinto assisted living was July 1. For two weeks, I mentioned it every time Ispoke with him on the phone, and he kept asking why he had to move out of hishouse for a couple of weeks and why it was going to take so long to fix hiswater. But we just kept telling him our little fib about it – that to clean upthe iron in his well water, it would take the plumber that long, and hewouldn't have any water that whole time, and it would even cause poisonousgases to come out his water faucets.

On the last day of June, he calledmultiple times, and I think it was starting to sink in. The morning of July 1,he called at least four times asking about it again. I told him I'd pick him upat 1:00 and that he could pack a bag with his electric razor, a change ofclothes, and anything else he might want to have over the next two weeks whilehe was there. He was agreeable to that.

Then, when I got to his house at 1:00, hehad made a 180 turn. He didn't know why I was there, and when I told him, hesaid he wasn't going to go. I kept telling him it would only be for a few weeksand reminded him that they would feed him three meals a day and he could watchTV all day on the big screen TV right outside his room. I also asked him if heremembered talking to me earlier and if he had packed anything to take withhim. But he just gave me a blank look.

He finally gave up on that argument andswitched to wanting to buy a new vehicle. We'd been telling him over the previousweek that they couldn't fix his truck and he couldn't get it back, so he'dbeen saying he was going to buy a new one and that I had taken him to thedealership the other day and he had put a down payment down on a truck and hewanted me to take him to pick it up.

My brain searched all over my head for astory. But I finally told him that we'd need to get him settled in his new roomfirst, and then we'd worry about picking up his new truck.

I got him in my car and talked again abouthow nice this place was as we drove to it.

I walked him into the building and to hisroom. He said, "oh, I remember coming here before."

We had bought him a throw for his bed,which had a big whitetail buck on it because he used to feed the deer. Theywere half-tame, almost eating out of his hand. He laughed when he saw that onhis bed and thought it was great.

I spoke with a few staff members and askedif I could run to get more of his things and if they could keep an eye on him.I parked him in front of the TV in the lobby, and he was fine when I left.

I met Hubby at his house so we could loadup his dresser, an end table, and the rest of his clothes. We looked for hisrazor, too, but couldn't find it. When we got back to the place, he was stillwatching TV, happy as a clam.

I could NOT believe it! Who was this man,and what had he done with my brother?

He called me a few times that evening,asking where he was and why, and I told him the same story. He'd say, "Oh,yeah," but then he'd still call back five minutes later.

Then he started calling me at one o'clockthe next morning. When I asked if he was okay, he answered, "Yes, I justcalled to talk." After the fourth time, I finally told him it was themiddle of the night, and I had to get some sleep, that he should put his phoneaway and go back to bed, and it would be morning before he knew it. I turnedoff my phone, and in the morning, I felt guilty because he had called threemore times. I'm sure he was scared, even though he wouldn't say that.

He still calls a few times a day, butmostly to tell me that he's been watching TV all day or that he just got doneeating a meal, but when I ask him, he doesn't remember what he ate, just saysthat it was good.

But he seems sooo happy. I still CANNOTbelieve it. Thank You, God, what did I ever do to deserve this huge blessing inmy life?

Through all this, the only time I gotteary-eyed was the day after we checked him in there, and Hubby and I weretrying to clean up stuff at his house. In his back room, I found a brown paperbag with some underwear, a pair of shorts, a handkerchief, and his razor. Hehad packed a bag for himself that morning and had forgotten all about it. Idon't know why that made me feel like crying - just that dementia is such ahorrible thing.

Yesterday, when I went in to see him, Isat down on the couch next to him where he was watching Jeopardy. He was sopleased to see me, and we had the best visit we have had in a year. I told himabout the different people I had talked to who wanted me to say "hi"to him. And he seemed to remember these people when I reminded him who theywere (two cousins and someone he went to school with).

He pointed to the sign on the door to hisroom, which had his name on it. He said the maintenance man wanted to removehis name, but he told the guy he was staying for two months, so he should leavehis name on the door.

Two months! We'd been telling him two tothree weeks. I don't know where this extended time came from. But he alsodidn't ask me today when he would be going home. Well, maybe he doesn't have toask anymore because I think he is home. And maybe he knows that, too.

         I realize that he will probably still have bad days, that I might get phonecalls in the middle of the night or he might argue with me about somethingstupid. But I still thank God for the good days that he has had so far.