Lauderdale: The day we took Daddy to the nursing home

Daddy went nuts and nobody could tell the difference.

That's how his battle with dementia looked when it started.

We were accustomed to odd antics from a hyperactive, strong-willed man whose life as an independent missionary was never anywhere close to normal.

I first knew some wiring had come loose when I asked Daddy about a Bible verse. I knew that the man who had translated the entire Bible into rhyming, metered verse would expound on it for an hour, if not a day. But the phone line went silent. After a long pause, he said: "Have you got a concordance?"

But that was years ago.

This week, we checked Daddy into a nursing home. It was dreaded, but it was time. Past time. We all hope Mama can finally get some rest.

And I hope that at some time when my travails with work are over, perhaps then I can pay it forward. Perhaps I can help other older people as so many have helped my parents.

The rural mail carrier recently had to help pick Daddy up from the dirt road after he wandered from the yard, and fell.

Our cousin Anita had to help find Daddy a week earlier when he didn't answer Mama's call from the door.

Our cousin Anne had to drive him to the doctor's office last Friday after he fell on the concrete front steps and hurt his head.

This is only the tiniest tip of the caring by strangers, family, friends and medical professionals who helped keep a teetering boat from sinking. It has taken a village to ease the pain over the past seven years as Daddy's sharp mind has defiantly gone AWOL.

Daddy went meekly into the nursing home. I expected the challenge to begin the moment we turned off Hwy. 1 onto the wrong road to get us home.

He should have been familiar with the nursing home that is a 12-mile ride from home through pecan orchards and cow pastures. He and Mama led devotionals there every Friday for 18 1/2 years.

Several longtime employees, including the administrator, came by the room to greet him. Daddy tried to act like he knew them, as nurses went through their routines and found him to be the rarest of 86-year-old newcomers: He had his own teeth, no hearing aid, and no medication.

But in the afternoon, the meekness disappeared as we edged into what dementia experts call "sundowning." Mama had been coping with this increased agitation late in the day by showing him DVDs. On this day, he led her on a long walk around the nursing home, checking every exit door in an attempt to leave.

When my nephew and I got back from running errands in town, Daddy was back in his new bed in his new room. He had found the Gideons Bible and was reading aloud from Matthew, enunciating as if he were a radio announcer: "If only I touch His garment, I will get well ..."

I mused to myself that maybe we could tell that Daddy had gone nuts. This time, he wasn't reading from a Greek or Hebrew Bible.

At supper time, we quickly made our exit.

On the way home, Mama told me she didn't think she could have lasted another two days. Everyone had always told us it was Mama we needed to look out for.

I dropped in to see Daddy on Wednesday evening on my way back to the Lowcountry. He was sitting alertly with a large group in the cafeteria. A loud and animated man from a local church was preaching to a room full of the infirm as if it were a tent revival.

I didn't go get Daddy. A nurse told me he was doing OK. "We're trying to keep him busy," she said.

I plugged up a clock radio in his room, and left him in peace.

Follow columnist and senior editor David Lauderdale at twitter.com/ThatsLauderdale and facebook.com/david.lauderdale.16.

This story was originally published September 24, 2015 at 5:04 PM with the headline "Lauderdale: The day we took Daddy to the nursing home."