04 may 2023
This has been a tough week. It started on Saturday when my dad called me and said that my mom's dementia had gotten worse and that he needed help. I'd normally take the train or bus to Indianapolis from Toronto, but this seemed urgent, and a rushed to get to Indy that day on the only direct flight. This meant cancelling an appointment with my HRT prescribing endocrinologist and cancelling an appointment with the US Passport office to expedite an update my name and gender on my passport before travelling for work.
I made it to Indy that day, and indeed my mom was out of sorts. She's most likely transitioned from stage 5, moderately severe decline, to stage 6, severe decline. She's started hallucinating kids in the house, forgets where the washrooms are, and her confusion leads to anger. After the second night, when she had woken me up every hour, and was getting close to wondering out of the house while we were asleep, it was clear to me that things had escalated beyond the capability of even two family members.
My sister had been pressing my dad for years to get in-home care; he couldn't do this alone. I had told dad the last time I visited for a month that my mom needed to get into assisted living ASAP. My research and talking with friends whose parents had dementia and Alzheimer's had told me that the stages come in sudden drops, and this would be the last window we'd have to move Mom while not under duress. But my dad is a child of the conservative patriarchy. He didn't want anyone else taking care of Mom but him. He was even reluctant to take my or my sisters help.
In the time between my last visit and this visit, my mom had come up for the wait list two times at the memory care assisted living residence up the road from my parents house. On this visit, there would shortly be a another room available, but it was more a expensive suite, and my dad wanted to wait until a cheaper one came available.
This is all just background and context. I can appreciate that my dad is in a tough position, and that he's had to take care of my mom 24/7 for the last four-odd years while I've only been there for weekends, weeks, or months at a time. I also understand that he is on a fixed income and has to do what is best for both of them. I can excuse the fact that he ignored my warnings to get her in to care at the next available opportunity, because he loves my mom and doesn't want to let her go. But what happened next has likely put a wedge in our relationship for the rest of our lives.
My dad, a child of the 1950s in the Southern United States and a military officer, has always been stubborn, strict, and conservative. He has stopped talking to me and/or kicked me out of the house twice before. Once when I dropped out of Bible College and another time when I came out to him as bisexual. On the other hand, he's gone through major depression with suicide attempts, drug addiction, and emotional abuse against my mother, and not one time did I write him off or out of my life.
I came out to everyone that I was a transgender woman by putting it in my Christmas cards in 2020 (admittedly maybe not the most tactful mood.) I called my dad before sending the cards to tell him personally. At the time he said, "I'll love you no matter what, but we don't need to talk about this anymore." I'd give that response a C-. Whenever we spoke on the phone he would call me by my deadname and misgender me. Whenever he talked about me with others, he would call me his son. I had been able to ignore this for a while for the sake of helping with my mom; however, I came near to the breaking point as I was filling out my passport information for travel using my deadname/gender (because I missed the passport appointment to come help my dad) while hearing him over the phone talk to his financial planner saying, "my son" is home. I felt the need to find a way to make a gentle request for him to refer to me as his daughter and use my real, legal name.
After the night when my mom had woken me up every hour, I was pretty frazzled. My dad, seeing this, said maybe it was best if I went home. I reiterated my point that this was now more than a two family member operation. A little irritated, I said unhelpfully, "I told you that we needed to get her into care and you passed up two opportunities since then." I then only slightly more helpfully said, "I think you should take the offer of the suite soon to be available, even if it's more expensive, or you should get in-home care until she comes up again for the cheaper room. He said, "I don't know what to tell you son." I responded plaintively, "daughter." He said, "well now I really sorry, this conversation is over."
I went back in my room and cried. I felt that I needed to get out, but I didn't want to abandon my mom. In the end, I accepted that my mom is ultimately my dad's responsibility, and if he didn't want me there, I should leave. I told him I was going to leave and he said that that would be best.
While I was waiting for a driver to come take me to a friend's house to stay the night before starting the trek back to Toronto, something wonderful happened. I heard my dad calling a place to set up in-home care for the hours he was sleeping. Perhaps my presence was not helpful, but my absence would be. On my way out the door, I said goodbye to my mom, who has long since forgotten who I am, and asked my dad if there's anything else he'd like to talk about, to which he said no. I can't help but thing I was saying goodbye to both of them for a very long time, if not forever.
I'm in a different place in my life than when my dad cut me out because I was bi. Then I needed the support of my parents to get back into school and pay for a place to live. Now, I'm financially independent, live in a different country, and have spiritual tools to keep myself safe in the face of abandonment. Should my dad want to talk, I'll be there, but I don't need his acceptance.
I want to conclude on a positive note. The friend who I stayed at after leaving the house was a townie that I've known since high school. I actually stayed at their mom's house. It turned out that my mom had taught their sister/daughter (respectively) in Kindergarten. My friend's mom said that my mom was really apprehensive about sending their child to school, but that my mom was the perfect first teacher for them, and my mom, seeing the apprehension of my friends mom, found ways to let to help in the classroom and be involved. That's the kind of person my mom is. She is kind and empathetic. She is where this kindrobot got her kindness from. She is the mom I will always remember and hold dearly in my heart.