On the way to bed the most interesting things happen

Funny how it works that way. I don't know what it is, but when Dad is tired it all goes haywire. The past, the present, hallucinations and dreams all mix together in one fuzzy landscape. I guess you could say dementia is where the line between reality and fantasy blurs.

This morning Dad woke up in full sundowner mode. The whole deal anxiety, disorientation, fear determination to complete the mission all at the same time. This morning it was my Grandmother. Dad thought he "abandoned" her in the car. (She has been dead for years and her cremains are in his bedroom waiting to go to NJ). I tried everything but nothing was working. I realized I was going to be late for work. I guess I forgot to mention that I was in the shower getting ready for work when this all began. My first priority was to deal with it dry and clothed.

Finally, Dad suggested that she might be home. I seized the opportunity, grabbed the phone and called my boss. I explained that it was me and I was so glad she (my grandmother/boss) was okay and answering the phone. I asked Dad if he wanted to talk to her and he said no. I then said I would be leaving for work soon. This ploy killed 2 birds with 2 stone. 1 calming Dad down and 2 telling everyone I will late.

I sat in Dad's room and waited for him to go to sleep. I sat quietly watching him fight sleep. Finally he looks at me and asks where everyone is. Reassuringly, I explain this is my house and we are all here. He looks around with astonishment and says, this is YOUR house, why did you buy a factory? You own the whole thing? He was amazed at my good fortune and bad taste simultaneously.

I explained the workers were in the factory part, but we lived in the dorm. Satisfied he drifted off to sleep and I went to work as fast as my little car would take me. So many times going to work is less than.............the glorified existence we dreamed of as youngsters, but today it sure beat the running herd on the factory workers and the domestic front. I guess you could say work is my respite. How often do we get to say that?