The dysfunctionality of my dad – relentless.
Words can’t describe the crazy, because it’s irrational, contrary and mean, and Dad makes sure that his actions are designed to inflict the most emotional pain.
We are still arguing over the money that we took and hid from Dad so that we could take care of Mom. He had forced us into it, refusing to bring in care, and subjecting Mom to all sorts of indignities. Knowing that we will need it at some future date for Dad, we have some in an account for him that is hidden, some will be dispersed to Mom’s beneficiaries (us) when the paperwork is done.
We argued today about the paperwork needed to continue his healthcare. They sent him a Cobra bill, but he doesn’t need Cobra. We have been in contact with the County, and sister took care of the paperwork needed to continue the benefits he was getting through Mom (and we all know that dealing with a govt organization is never jut a quick phone call!). But it doesn’t register with him. Even after explaining it to him, that we have been in contact with the County, we are still all wrong, he is right, and he’s mad that we aren’t doing what he tells us and he still wants the Cobra bill paid.
He struck me today, kinda out of the blue. Ended up just hitting the coffee cup out of my hand, but we had an altercation – he continued to try to strike me with his walker. I contained him, then I blew up at him about Mom, about some of the things he did to her, I think I will do a separate blog post about that (see the Elder Abuse post after this one). But his revision is that he confronted me about Mom, so I tried to hit him.
He has imagined that we all had a meeting about the money and voted, and maybe something about how he was ready to spend it but we wouldn’t let him. None of that ever happened, and to this day, he refuses to believe that we were paying for the caregivers that came into the house, he thinks an outside agency paid. To this day, he believes that he was providing adequate care for Mom, as she was allowed to stay in dirty diapers, not get cleaned up or fed, allowed to stay on the floor for 8-12 hours when she fell, etc. None of that seems to register to him as true or wrong.
When we are little kids, and something happens, sometimes we might make up stories to make it sound better than it was, or as a way to explain it to our parents. It seems like we are in some version of that mindset, but on steroids.
I so don’t understand what is going on in his mind. I don’t understand his version of dementia.