Letters To Dad @davesdaughter92 - Tumblr Blog

Dearest Dad,

Sometimes it’s hard to believe that you have been gone for nearly 3 years. But this time of year never ceases to remind me of how I lost you and watched you fade away. It’s still incredibly vivid in my memories and it still hurts just as much as it did back then.

Things are so different now. But as things change and times get tough, I feel you with me, guiding me to where I belong. You are still my guidepost for everything. I often think of you and how you just had this way of making everything feel better, even when the world was crumbling. You would make me laugh. You would make me feel safe. And you always made me feel like I could do or be anything.

My heart is damaged, but it’s healing. And I’ve made room for another person to take up residence there permanently: Nick asked me to marry him and I said yes. You always liked Nick, which is saying a lot since you pretty much despised everyone I ever brought around. I’m glad you got to know the man that I chose to spend forever with and I’m glad that he got to spend time with you too. I tell him about you often; stories, memories, and I ask his opinion on so many things because his thoughts and ideas tend to remind me of things you would say or think. I chose the best man to be my partner in life and it helps my healing heart to know that he reminds me a lot of you. He makes me laugh. He makes me feel safe. And he makes me feel like I can do or be anything.

What I wouldn’t give to have you here with me, to walk me down the aisle on my wedding day, to have a father daughter dance at our reception, and to hear your jokes during your toast. But I am lucky enough to have had you for 25 years to show me what a great partner, spouse, and father is. I’ve chosen the best partner because you taught me how. And I have no doubts that the guy I’ve chosen will be the best spouse and father. Though you aren’t here to do all the things a girl needs her dad to do for her on that special day, I know that you will be with me and you are proud that I am happy. Plus, I have no shortage of Elston men to watch over me.

My name changes but I will always be an Elston at heart: stubborn and hardheaded; relentless and hardworking. I’ll have you with me always, Dad. And that’s what gets me through these tough times. So I miss you as always, especially now. But I am ever so lucky to have found happiness after losing you.

I love you always, Daddy. I’ll always be your baby girl, even when I’m married.

Love,

Your Katie Bug

Dear Dad,

It’s been two years since you left this earth, but it’s been longer since I remember hearing your voice. I still remember the last time you squeezed my hand and looked into my eyes, silently apologizing for not being able to fight your illness anymore.

It was then that I told you it was okay to stop fighting and it was okay to go and that I’ll be okay. I thanked you for loving me and providing for me. I thanked you for be raising me to be strong and independent and for always believing in me. I thanked you for being my dad and for...everything. I told you that I’ll always love you. And honestly, I am relieved that you were able to go in peace on your own terms and that you aren’t suffering anymore.

Two years have gone by and things are so different. I knew they couldn’t stay the same and that I would never be the same. Losing you was the hardest thing I have ever had to go through. But somehow I think that I’m a better person for having gone through it. I’ve had to really dig deep to find the strength to go through everyday knowing you’re not on this earth anymore. And some days are more of a struggle than others, but most days I get through it and I’m still happy. I think that’s all you wanted for me: to be happy.

I didn’t go through it alone. I have the people that love me and care about me here to guide me out of the darkness. And sometimes when it’s too much, I still always have someone to sit with me in the darkness until I’m ready. And honestly, that’s more than anyone can ever ask for. I hold memories of you and lessons you have taught me so dear to my heart. It’s funny, that even though you’re gone, you still continue to teach me.

So all and all, I promised you that I would be okay. And I am. And I hope that’s okay with you. I still miss you and I wish daily that you were still here. I still have my bad days where I don’t want to get out of bed or leave the house because the grief is too much. But I’m getting through the grief, one day at a time. I do my absolute best to be the best I can be and to make you proud. And as always, I miss you and love you forever, Dad.

Hope heaven is beautiful and you are enjoying your time with Granny and Grandpa, Grandma Pauline, Snuffy, Kiki, and so many others up there.

Like all days, I celebrate your life and the memories I’ll always have of you, but especially today.

Love always,

Your Baby Girl

Never Gone

It’s been a week and a day without my dad. The world seems different to me. I never imagined a world that exists without my dad. Even though I’m grown, I feel like a child wandering, lost. Everyday things seem so much harder and the nights feel so much longer. The emptiness and unrelenting pain is grief and I know that this is the process. I know I have to go through it and I’ll be okay. It’s just that nothing ever prepares you for what this feels like.

At my father’s celebration of life yesterday, I saw so many people. That chapel was filled that people were standing out the door. It didn’t surprise me that so many people’s lives were touched by my dad. He was a great man. Yet the faces were all a blur. I was hugged by everyone, telling me how sorry they were for our loss and that my dad was a good man that will be missed and that he was proud of me. I just said thank you for coming. I didn’t know what to say or what to feel because it all seemed so unreal like at any moment I was going to wake up from this nightmare. I told the story of the man my dad was. I told everyone how he was the best dad and I told them how he gave us everything. I told them what he taught me and the stories of him just being the person he was. I told them how much I love him and miss him and how I’ll remember him.

As I told this story, I poured every emotion I had into those words so everyone could feel it. So he could feel it and know how much he made me into the person I am and strive to become. My hope was to tell the story of my dad to inspire them to be as he was. Because my dad is my hero and he inspires me every single day.

I got to listen to people’s stories about my dad and how he left his mark on their lives. I was surrounded by love and it felt comforting to know how beloved my dad was. My brother spoke about how my dad isn’t truly gone and that he lives within his family, my brothers and my mom and I. We are strong because of my dad, he gave us that strength. And even though I’m digging deep right now to find the strength, I know it’s there. I know that we will be okay.

As much as I long to hold my dad in my arms, I’ll have to settle for holding him in my heart. I hold him there forever and there won’t go a day without his words in my head telling me, “atta girl,” or “you got this, Baby.”

He’s never gone.

9:33

The last 6 months of my life have seemed like that have been truly the hardest. 6 months ago, we almost lost my dad. He got sick and it all seemed to be moving so fast. And I was not ready. I can’t tell you how many phone calls I got to tell me that this was it and he was going to leave us. I had never been so scared. But he wanted us to save his life, whatever it took. So we did.

I don’t think any of us truly understood what that meant. We saved him because he wanted us to, but I don’t think any of us could have ever thought things could get so bad. My dad was fighter. He was invincible and nothing could take him from us. But we were wrong.

He went from the ICU to a care facility to another one after that. He was on a ventilator. He had a trache. He was suffering from infections in his lungs that turned his body inside out. But he was out of the woods. We had to help him fight to get better. And we did. He got better. He fought like hell to get off the ventilator, to speak again, and ultimately to go home. He was so motivated to go home, to see his grandson and to get back to us. We got him to the rehab care that was supposed to get him better so that maybe he would get him back home. And he was more motivated than ever to come him.

But each day became harder and harder. He was in more pain and there were more days than not that he didn’t know us. He was fighting so hard but his body just didn’t let him. As much as we believed and prayed and as much as he fought, his body couldn’t fight off infection. He got sick one more time before we decided that he shouldn’t be in pain like he was. He was not living, but existing in a world of hurt and pain lost somewhere in his memories. He looked at my mom and we knew he was ready to come home..for good.

After 5.5 months, we brought him home even though it broke our hearts to do it. We made him comfortable and made sure he felt loved and safe. And as much as it hurt, we waited for him to go peacefully because that’s what he wanted. We had our moment and nothing was left unsaid. But as comforting as that was, it didn’t make what was happening better.

He was home for 2.5 weeks before he ultimately decided it was okay for him to go.

So many times we thought/were told that he wouldn’t make it through the night. But he always did. His vitals would drop and his body would feel cold, only for them to normalize and become warm again. He never opened his eyes after we said goodbye, the day he was most lucid after he arrived home. But he was still in there. And as much as we reassured him it was okay to go, he didn’t. Of course, the nurses and doctors said he was a medical marvel and that he should have already gone, it didn’t surprise me. My dad was no ordinary man, no ordinary dad. He was special and he was a fighter. He fought all the way until the end.

My world stopped at 9:33am Saturday 3/17/18. And even though he’s the one that has passed on, I feel like my family and I have slowly died with him. I don’t know a world that exists without my father in it. I don’t understand a place that thrives without him there. My heart has never physically hurt like it does and I have never felt so empty. I had 6months to prepare, but I still wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready for the artic freeze that ran through my body when I heard that he died. I wasn’t ready for the overwhelming disparity and sadness. I wasn’t ready to let go of his hand because I am so lost without him. I’m not ready. But the thought of him at peace, painfree, helps. He’s in a better place.

As broken as I feel, I know that there will be a time where I will feel better. I have hope that each day will get a little easier to get through. And the pain may never go away, neither will my dad. He’s with me always. I carry him in my heart and maybe not right now, but one day that will be enough. He taught me to have hope and to believe in better. And I’ll do that for him.

Ill miss my dad forever. But I know he will make sure we are all okay at some point. That’s just what my Dad does.

She did not stand alone, but what stood behind her, the most potent moral force of her life, was the love of her father. She never questioned it, never thought about it, never even realized that before she made any decision of importance the reflex, ‘What would Dad do?’ passed through her unconscious; she never realized what made her dig in her feet and stand firm whenever she did was her father; that whatever was decent and of good report in her character was put there by her father; she did not know that she worshipped him

Harper Lee

From Father to Daughter

Everyone has a father, but not everyone is lucky enough to have a dad. I've been lucky enough to have not only a dad, but I had the greatest dad. My dad was my hero and though he was not a hero to the world, he was a hero to his little girl. My dad was a strong man. Strong willed and strong minded. It seemed like there was nothing he couldn't do. I admired that. I still do. I wanted to be strong like my dad. But if you knew me as a small child you would know that I was not the strongest. I cried a lot because everything made me cry. I was always scared. I would get discouraged easily and I always said, "I can't." I got bullied a lot too. I felt like my dad was a bear and I was a duck and I couldn't possibly have come from him. My brothers were bear cubs and I felt so out of place because I wanted to be was a bear cub too. But I was a duck. And actually, I think because of that, my dad loved me more. He was patient with me and tried not to yell at me if he could help it. When I felt left out or alone, he made sure I felt included or would keep me company. But whenever I wanted to give up or give in, he would never let me. Dad knew I wanted to be a bear cub like my brothers, so he taught me to be a bear cub. He was tough on me like he was tough on them. He pushed me like he pushed them. But the difference was that he had a softer spot for me. When his tone was stern, his face wasn't as hard. He had a softness that I only saw with me. When I would run to him and yell out,"Daddy," he would smile and put me on his shoulders. He would always let me sit on his lap in his big chair no matter how tired he was. Whenever I was afraid at night, he would wrap me up in his shirt and tell me that the boogeyman is afraid of him. And as I grew up, I think I became more and more like a bear cub than a duck. My dad taught me many things. He taught me how to throw a ball and throw every baseball pitch in the book. He taught me to never be afraid to show anyone, especially my brothers, that I can do anything they can. He taught me how to ride a bike, how to multiply and how to whistle. He taught me how swing a bat and how to jump a hurdle. He taught me how to eat sunflower seeds and he taught me about football and baseball. He taught me about loyalty to your team and to your people that are in your corner. He taught me to not be afraid of the opinions of others and to stand up for myself and for others. He taught me to make my choices in the good of others and that it's okay to walk away from those who are cruel and selfish even if it means losing popularity or friends. He taught me to fight for the good in the world and to do good. He taught me to never let a guy change me or make me feel inferior. He taught me how to chase my dreams and how to achieve them. But most importantly, my dad taught me to let my ball playing do my talking: to let my actions show who I am what I am about. My dad never gave me any idea that I couldn't do whatever it is I wanted to do or be whomever I wanted to be. I was a duck that wanted to be a bear cub and I became that. I became stubborn and strong willed and strong minded, just like him. And when I wanted to have a career in a field that was mostly dominated by men, my dad never once doubted me. He believed in me, sometimes more than I believed in myself. He told me once it was because he knew that if anyone could change the world and change this line of work, it was me. Because I was his bear cub and I didn't let anyone, especially any guy, push me around and stand in my way. And I let my ball playing do my talking, everyday. I achieved my dream because he taught me how. My dad has given me many gifts, but I can't ever thank him enough for giving me the one thing a daughter needs from her father: unconditional love. My dad has shown me how a man should treat a lady, by loving me and loving my mother. He loves me so much that he believes in me and all my dreams. I am the person I am today because of my dad.

#prayfordave

Believing in Something More

Over the last three weeks, my life has changed. My family's lives have changed. Time has stood still but also has slipped away. Doesn't really make sense does it? I feel like things haven't made much sense lately. Right now I feel like I can watch the scariest of all movies and it wouldn't even scratch the surface of how fearful I have been the last three weeks. Dad has been sick. He's been sick for seven years, each day slowly deteriorating his memory. More and more of him goes, over time. But he got sicker. And he physically started deteriorating. It's different because you can see it. His illness now is measured by numbers and other scientific measures where before he had his good days and bad days. I've watched him for weeks struggle to breathe and to fight for his life. I've watched him battle his demons and fears to try to stay with us. I've watched. And nothing hurts more than watching and not being able to do a damn thing about it. I am a person of science. Science and the human body is what I understand. Science does not lie and science does not reason. It is what it is. It is what I have always loved about it: finding the solution to the problem. I live by science. But science is failing me. Numbers don't lie. And dad's numbers are not good. His condition hasn't been getting better. And I'm struggling with what is happening and what I know and what I want to happen. What I need to happen. What I need is my dad. I need my dad here because I haven't had enough time. 25 years isn't enough. A lifetime couldn't be enough. My heart breaks everyday knowing it could be one less day that I will have with him. The man he has become versus the man he was before he got sick..doesn't matter. I will take him anyway I can have him: 1000 pounds or a bag of bones. Lucid or not. I need him here because he's the most important person in the world to me. When I look at the man lying in the hospital bed, my heart breaks. These people that are caring for him there didn't know the lively man he once was. The man that would do anything and everything for his family. The man who worked himself to the bone and never once complained. The man that showed up to every softball game, every piano recital, and every art show. The man that loved his wife and kids endlessly and never forgot to show it. The man that provided for his family and the man that was the best dad I could have ever dreamed of having. The man I see in that bed is a shell of the man that once was my dad, but dad is still in there. He fights everyday because that's just dad. He's a fighter. I am a believer in science. But I am a believer in people. And there's no one I believe more in than the man that has always believed in me. I believe Dad can beat this and that he will get better. I have to believe that. And sometimes when logic and science fail you, you have to believe in something more. I stopped practicing Catholicism seven years ago after dad got sick. It wasn't fair and I thought God had cheated us. I don't know why he got sick. And I don't care. But I have set my views on religion aside. I've never prayed more in my life than I have in the last three weeks. Praying to a God or Gods or the universe or whoever is listening out there to get my family through this and to give dad the strength to keep fighting. I'm praying for my dad. And I ask for you to believe in something more with me too. Pray for my dad because he's not ready to go yet. I'm not ready for him to go.

#prayfordave

Everyday is Father's Day

I'm not sure how many more years I will get to have with my dad where he knows he's my dad, but to me, everyday is Father's Day. Everyday I get with him, I treat him like he's a king because he is. My dad sacrificed his health by working his ass off to support his family. He worked two jobs, never slept, and was always there whenever we asked. Most of the time we never had to ask. He was just there because my dad took his job as being a dad more serious than anything. It breaks my heart to know that some people didn't get to grow up with a dad. Or their dad always worked. What breaks my heart more is when people don't appreciate their dad. I was fortunate to have the best dad in the world when I was growing up. My dad taught me to ride a bike, helped me with my homework, played catch with me in the backyard and was at every game, recital, and awards ceremony. My dad was a superhero and I was lucky to have that man growing up. When I left for college, he got sick. He stopped being the dad I always knew, and he started to forget. His disease changed him and he's different now, but he's still my dad. I still glimpses of my old dad every so often, but it's rare. I consider myself lucky to have memories of the man that shaped my life and inspired me and even though he can't always remember, I'll remember for us both. Please don't take your dads for granted. The time we have with the ones we love is precious and everyday with my dad is special. Everyday it's Father's Day.

Catch up

It's been a few months since my last post but so much has changed since then. Dad is getting worse each day and it feels like my heartbreaks a little more each time I can see that his life is declining. Life is moving forward and time is passing. My brother and his wife are having a baby. My twin is climbing the ladder is success with work. My friends are getting engaged and successfully working at their jobs. Even my life is starting to change too. Grad school is coming to an end and I'm applying for jobs, trying to make something of myself in the world. It's strange to me how so much can be changing and seeming to be good when Dad is losing himself. He seems to be reliving my childhood more and more these days. He doesn't really see me or my brothers as adults, but as the rambunctious children we had once been. It saddens me. He's reliving the memories that we had once made, the memories that I hold dear to my heart because that's the Dad I love to remember. The Dad in those memories was my Dad, the best Dad. I wish my Dad knew me now, knew how much I've worked and sacrificed to make him proud. I wish my Dad knew how much he has always meant to me and how much he always inspired me. It's hard for him to understand now, though I've always told him. It's hard for him to remember. Dad is going to be a grandpa. I wish my niece or nephew would have known how great their grandpa was. It's not fair that he or she will not ever get to experience having the best grandpa because my Dad would have been the best grandpa. But instead this baby will only know the man who has been lost by this disease. That makes me sad. But Dad sometimes remembers that he's going to be a Popo and he gets giddy and thrilled. It makes me smile. Life has not been easy these past few months and it's not going to get any easier. But he's here and he knows me. He's still my Dad and I love him always.

Happy birthday Daddy 🎉 #56

#56

A Small Circle: Not Everyone Understands

*this blog is not to target anyone, nor make them feel bad. This is to educate and to give understanding on what it's like having a family member with PD.* My dad was a beloved man. The people he had around him were pretty great and always made him happy. My dad was the life of the party, always joking and making people laugh. That was my dad. He had lots of friends and I felt lucky that his family was so great and made me feel like we were all apart of it. But after my dad got sick those people that he had surrounding him seemed to all disappear. A man with such a large circle of people gradually had a very small circle. What's worse is that the illness doesn't allow my dad to see reality and just how small his circle has become. It's just my brothers and my mom and I. We are his constants and his support system. We are the ones that are there and help him and visit with him. We are the ones that see what the disease does and no matter how hard and how heartbreaking it is to see, we are the ones that are always there. Always. My dad's friends don't call, they don't visit. They don't send him well wishes and they don't really know how bad things have gotten. Not just his friends. His family. His cousins and aunts and uncles and siblings. All those people that once made me feel lucky to have don't call or visit. They don't send well wishes or know how bad things have gotten. They just stopped. All of them. My dad often talks about all these people and calls out for them. But they aren't there. And they haven't been. Harsh? Yeah, but it's the truth. But he doesn't realize this. It makes me angry and it makes me mad, but the thing is that I can't change how people act. I can't make them be there for a man who was always there for them. I can't make them see how hard it all is and make them understand what my brothers and my mom and I go through. I thought educating them would help. And maybe for a second it did. They felt bad. But the point of this isn't to make others feel bad. It's to get them to actually put in the effort. Just be there. Call, Skype, send cards, visit, or something. My dad doesn't understand that his circle is small, but I do. My mom appreciates those who make the effort and so do I. In the end, my dad has his memories. Memories of years and years ago with those people that once made him whole. But these past ten years and these present years and the years to come he's going to remember my brothers and my mom and I because we are his constants and his support system. We are there to visit and help him and care for him. We are the ones that make him laugh and make him feel loved because we love him. Sometimes it's not about how hard something can be, but finding the strength to overcome. It's harder than hell watching a once great man fall. But I don't see it that way. He's changing and yes it's hard but I'm there because I would rather have my dad with Parkinson's than not at all. So am I angry? Sometimes. I find it difficult to have relationships with people that I thought were family and dear friends when it's been so easy for them to not be there. But anger doesn't solve anything. I am disappointed in those people. But it's not about my relationships to them. It's about my dad. They don't have to be there for me or my mom. They can say mean things about us and that's fine. But make the effort for my dad. Because he's the one that really suffers here. If it's just too difficult for them to do that, well that's okay. It's them that are missing out. Because my dad is the greatest and he still makes me laugh and makes me feel loved even when he's going through all of this. Despite his disease, my dad is still my dad. And that's their loss. For me, my circle is small. But I don't want a big circle if people can't actually be there when things get hard. If they can't handle me or my family at our worst, they don't deserve me and my family at our best. I know the people that are here for me and some of those people aren't even family. I know who's in my corner. The love I have for those people is completely limitless. The main reason: they try. So you may not understand the disease or how hard it all is but making the attempt to TRY to be there for those with this disease, it's greatly appreciated.

Ears, nose, and smile just like Dad's :)

Incredibly helpful and educational piece of literature. Helped me develop my Dad's therapy plan.

Great read!

Guilt: What I would give up

July happens to be the hardest time of year for me. I used to love celebrating the 4th of July. I have the best memories of my family BBQs and my dad lighting off fireworks. My parents always made holidays very special. And my best memories are of my dad running the show on 4th of July. As the years have gone and my dad's disease has progressed immensely, the 4th of July just doesn't feel the same. It makes me feel sad and makes me miss the person that I remember as my dad. I can miss my old dad all day and night but the thing is that he isn't that person anymore. He's a new version of my dad, but I don't love him any less. He's struggling a lot lately. He's very restless and needs help with doing just about everything from bathing to dressing himself. He isn't the easiest person to be patient with either. He can be very accusative and argumentative. He's stubborn and doesn't believe in himself. It's very hard to be his caretaker. My mom does it all 24/7 and it's incredible. She suffers the most even when she does the most for him. What's happening to my dad is causing her the most pain. And that kills me. She has the world on her shoulders and dares to take on more because she promised,"through sickness and health and for better and for worse." She loves my dad and will do anything for him. She compromises herself to take care of him. I can't even fathom the strength that she's developed during this hardship. She's super woman... Which brings me to the topic of this blog. Guilt. That pit in the bottom of my stomach where the guilt and shame dwells and doesn't ever seem to go away. I do the best I can to be there for Mom and for Pops. I make trips down to see them and I call daily. But my heart is heavy because I feel like nothing is ever enough. Today I asked my mom what I can do to help. She said to continue to live my life up here in the city and do what I've worked so hard to do: get my 2nd degree and live my dream. She told me that and it was like a knife that when through my gut. After all that she does, she still wants me to continue to do what I have dreamt of doing my whole life: be the best athletic trainer I can be. As much as I have dreamt of getting my masters degree and getting my career on track and make a difference in the world, I have to admit the truth. If she asked me, I would give it all up and move home to take care of my dad and help her. If she asked me, I wouldn't even think twice about dropping everything to do that for them. Because they have given me everything, it would be the least I could ever do. But here's the thing: my mom would never ask me to do that. She knows that I've worked to hard and come so far to stop now. She is my biggest supporter even when she's going through her own hell. She wants me to be happy and do all the great things that I have dreamt of doing. My mom is truly selfless. My heart is heavy with the amount of love my parents have for me and the confidence that they have in me and my determination to make a difference in the world. My mom is the greatest mom in the world. And my guilt for leaving her and my dad to achieve my dreams eats me alive everyday. If I did give it all up and go home, would I have resentment? Would I feel incomplete? Would I have traded in my dreams for a nightmare? I can ask what if questions until I'm blue in the face but it doesn't matter. Deep down I know my dad wants me to reach my dreams and do what my heart loves so much: saving lives. My dad would be angry with me for giving up because Elston's don't quit. My mom would be disappointed that I came so close to only stop short. The guilt lives within me that I can't take care of them like I'd like but it would be greater if I walked away when I'm only a year away from graduating with my masters degree and getting career of my dreams. So how do I deal with the guilt? Everyday is a challenge but I keep going. I call and I visit. I'm there for mom and I am patient and kind to my father. I will do the best I can to help with cooking and cleaning the house to make things easier. I live my life the way they want me to. And for now, that helps with the guilt.

Patience with Parkinson's: Yes, You Can

The psychosis portion of Parkinson’s is something I talk about a lot. But my dad does suffer from the issues that effect his motor functions and body movements. The way that I describe it is this: the brain cells cannot communicate with the rest of his body. His brain will tell him to move his leg, but his body just can’t do what it’s told.

This can be incredibly frustrating for both the patient and the caregiver. Simple movements are hard. My dad often says that “he can’t.” “Help me.” “I don’t know why I can’t do this.” The phrase “I can’t” was never in my dad’s vocabulary. He raised me to never give up or give in. You keep pushing until you get there. He seems to have lost that mentality. I think that scares him. But luckily for my dad, I study movement. I know how to treat patients that are immobilized, completely or partially. I know how to handle my dad. And I want to share how to handle someone with Parkinson’s that has difficulty moving.

What not to do: Don’t ever tell them that they aren’t trying. Seriously? Let’s upset them and embarrass them even more. That’s the worst thing you can possibly do. Don’t rush them. PATIENCE IS A VIRTUE! It will take time for them to remember how to move, give them that time. Don’t yell at them. Honestly, what good will that do? Yelling will not make them go any faster and it will not make them suddenly well. It hurts their feelings and they will remember that you weren’t nice to them. Don’t do it for them. This can be difficult because you just want to get something done, but they need to do it themselves. They need to do the motions, no matter how difficult. This helps them.

What to do: Encourage them! They will tell you that they can’t but you have to be positive. I always tell my dad “you can.” And “concentrate and do one movement at a time.” I remind him how to do it. I needs that. Smile! A reassuring smile makes things better. They won’t feel so self conscious and they will be more likely to ask for help.

Today I had to reteach my dad to scoot up from his chair to get up. It took him a bit but he got it. Patience helps. He forgets, but sometimes he remembers and he remembers the queues that I have given him. That makes me happy.

Moral of the story: Be patient with your Parkinson’s loved one. And always encourage them. They get down on themselves a lot, so reassurance and support goes a long way.

#endparkinsons #parkinsonstips

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