This is Chapter 7 in the Grief Memoir. Catch up with previous chapters here.
After moving Dad into assisted living, things seemed to morph into logistics management more than health management. Dad’s stress levels went down living in a place with help – he didn’t have to worry about making food or taking care of a home and he was making new friends. He was coming and going back to the house to tackle his paperwork and move any other final things to his office or new home. His trips to the ER went away and I focused on our own move – from Kentucky to California.
My husband was going to graduate school next so we were preparing for an epic cross-country PCS. Like many PCSes in 2021, ours was not without stress. We weren’t assigned movers until the 11th hour leading me to investigate any and all ways to do a PPM (personally-procured move), just in case. The movers were finally scheduled to arrive, while I was on a work trip to Washington, D.C. For the first time in our marriage, I wasn’t going to be home for the packers. My husband handled it all – including helping pack and load because of course we had a bare bones crew. But I came back to an empty house, we checked out of housing, and we hit the road.
Our caravan across the country included stops to see family and friends, multiple National Parks, and just a little bit of car trouble. I had to do a bit of back and forth with my dad and his realtor regarding the sale of his house, of course in the middle of nowhere, but otherwise, I was able to focus on our family with few worries about Dad.
When we arrived in California though, we got some great news of our own – I was pregnant. My tiredness of the end of our trip was not from being on the road for over a week, it was a baby and early pregnancy kicking my butt. Fortunately, we moved right into our rental and within days got our household goods. My husband was able to be home to help with delivery. The girls started their new schools (including Kindergarten) and things were falling into place.
In November, my dad came out to visit for Thanksgiving for 10 days. After we booked the flights I knew that it was a long trip, but I wanted to avoid Dad traveling on busy days. Our first days went great – with a visit to the Monterey Bay Aquarium, time with the girls, and relaxing. My mother-in-law was in town and they took a trip to Yosemite while I worked. Our Thanksgiving was delicious and included friends from my husband’s program and family.
But as his trip went on it wasn’t all rainbows. My dad clearly missed his routine, as I heard him say to a friend on the phone. My TV has never been louder. And near the end he was forgetting to take his medicine. I got mad at him. I had assumed he was on top of it. I was mad at myself for not checking. He wasn’t feeling 100% and I assumed it was the missed medication. By the time he left he was not doing great, but I thought, again, going home will help. After he got back to Phoenix, he got worse. A day later, he was in the hospital – he’d picked up COVID. I felt terrible, and worried.
My dad was not in great health to begin with and had asthma; COVID was not going to be kind to him. I called him and the nurses multiple times a day for updates. Dad grew irritable being in the hospital especially since he was completely isolated. I spoke to friends who reminded me that even if I was in the same city as him, I could not visit. It helped to remember that, but I still felt awful that his trip to see us resulted in him getting sick. After nearly a week, he was improving. Our family all tested negative and I continued to monitor his health, even while on a work trip, taking calls between setting up for an event and meetings.
Dad was finally discharged to a rehab-type facility on his assisted living campus which made it easier to get him back to his room ASAP. He recovered quickly and was back to his room before our family showed up for Christmas a few short weeks later.
Christmas in Phoenix in a different house was …weird. There’s no other way to say that. We got an AirBnB but it wasn’t my parents’ house. The felt Christmas tree my kids decorated and our stockings helped, but it wasn’t the same. I tried to recreate and do things we always did – make cookies, make Mom’s recipes, but I missed her. We would get Dad from assisted living and do things, like a trip to the movies or a nice dinner out, but even then, it was clear that he was still on the mend. He was irritable and didn’t always want to go anywhere, especially in the evening.
When he’d been hospitalized with COVID I started to learn about sundowning – a state of confusion and irritability in the evenings. It seemed to have stayed with Dad after his hospital stay. On days when he wanted to stay, he made it known, and we’d let him stay. This was really, really hard for me. I wanted this magical Christmas; I knew it would be different, but I didn’t expect it to be this different. Dad came over to open presents on Christmas morning and overall, it was good enough. A few days later we said goodbye and took our kids on their big experience present – a weekend at Disneyland.
Going to Disneyland at 28 weeks pregnant turned out to be pretty fun –I could ride all the same things as my 2 year old, and with some comfy shoes and nap breaks – we all had a blast. But on our last day there, while waiting for the Jungle Cruise I got a call – Dad was back in the hospital. He was having trouble breathing.
I remember being angry – I couldn’t even take a vacation without something going wrong. I spent dinner that night on the phone with nurses and Dad to try to figure out what was going on. Fortunately, Dad didn’t stay too long; he was discharged in the early hours the next day but I could see that the following months were going to be hard. With the end of my pregnancy quickly approaching, and Dad not doing great – how was I going to help when I couldn’t travel? What was I going to do?