O Solo Mio

I walked into his room, and there he was again, sound asleep deep within his sheets.

"DAD!!" Wake up. Why are you in bed again, its eleven o'clock!!"

His left eye barely opens.

"DAD!!! This is crazy, you cannot sleep all day!! Its not good for you!!!"

He begins to softly snore

"DAD!!!!!" I remove the blakets and sheets like ripping off a bandaid. He turns his head and looks at me with distain.

"What do you want?" he asks with an angry tone

"I want you to wake up!! It is a beautiful day, let's get outside and enjoy the sun!!" I pause to see if he will finally listen and move from his rightside fetal position. He bellows a huge sigh, his eyes squeezed tight. Right leg swings over, then the left leg. He balances himself with his fits on the mattress.

"Dad, you cannot do this. Your brain is tricking you to stay in bed and sleep all day. Please get up!!"

"Okay, okay!!" he relents.

I place clean pants and a fresh shirt on his bed. I walk around the bed to his night table to find a pair of matching socks. I pause and look at the name on his ironed-on labels I pressed to the bottom of each sock. Alberto Ianina. When I say that name out loud in my mind, I hear his grand voice and feel strength again.

"Let's go, get dressed. Here let me help you with your socks."

I loop his belt through the loops on his pants. He takes a deep breath to suck in his hanging gut. He can still button his own pants. I lower my shoulders, I’m relieved.

I reach for his roll aider, his red & black walker that is now his mode of transportation, just like his 1964 Black for Galexy, with red interior once was.

“Come on, lets get outside. The sun is beautiful today!” I soften my voice to give him encouragement.

As we exit his room, I stay behind to lock the door. He sees another resident shuffling by. “Ciao” he says. “Bella giornata” (beautiful day in Italian) he exclaims without even being outside yet.

As we exit the building through the front sliding doors, we are greeted with the clearest blue sky and brightest sunshine. He begins to sing, “O Solo Mio” in perfect pitch and timing.

There he is my handsome and bright dad. He is back again from the deeps of his dementia. Singing and smiling as we walk laps in the parking lot of his residence.

“Aren’t you glad I woke you up?” I ask with a cheeky tone.

“Ya, thank you!!” he replies then continues to sing.

As he sings, I open my phone camera to selfie mode video. I want to capture this moment. It is fathers’ day and I want to share this moment.

As a caregiver to my father, I am a boss. I won’t let the dementia win. I won’t let him slip away into that black cavern of no return.

Already losing my mom to Alzheimer’s, I am not letting this take my dad away without a fight.

It is incredible to me, every time I think about it that I have lived with two parents with cognitive impairments. I tell people, “Round 2 for me”. At least I have experience. I know the signs and how to advocate. But wow did I ever expect to do this twice? No.

And here I am. Changing my life to ensure my dad has a fighting chance before the end of his. Ensuring that complacency does not set in for him, me and all his caregivers at his residence. Bringing joy to his day, bringing purpose and meaning to his day. One day at a time.

He came to this country with nothing. He worked his fingers to the bone, gave his all to his family, business and his beloved wife. But in the end, dementia go the upper hand. Dementia did not discriminate and did not care how hard he worked, what he did to help others, how he supported his ailing wife for 11 long years while Alzheimer’s took over her mind.

But when she died, his purpose was gone. His drive for joy was over. His lifeline cut short. In his own works, “These were supposed to be the golden years, they have turned to rust!!”

The first time I ever heard him say these works, I crumbled. I was stopped in my tracks as that reality sunk in. He was right. All their hard work, all their sacrifices and they are dealt with this sucker punch to the gut.

“Golden years turned to rust” reverberates in my brain on a regular basis. How does anyone deserve this fait? I am not talking about me, but my dad. What penance is he serving to have deserved this? If there is a higher being, what did they see that would make them bestow this black cavern onto my dear dad?

How can I fix this? I ask myself all the time. What can I do to fix this!!??

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing but love, tough love. Nothing but support and educated advocacy. Nothing but positive experiences.

Two days later, I drove to visit, as I parked the car, hoping I would not find him deep in bed again, I turned to see him sitting on a bench with another resident, laughing. I got out of the car and heard him teasing the other resident in his take no prisoners style of teasing. Then I hear big laughter. My shoulders dropped in relief.

“Hey dad, beautiful day!!” as I approached the bench.

“Yep, is sure is!!” he looked straight at me.

I sat beside him quietly. Within 30 seconds he started singing O Solo Mio. I smiled, he smiled and he continued to sing.

If all it takes is sunshine and a song, then we will be in good shape to ride this out. I can survive this, round 2. He can survive this, till the end.