It’s not funny! Well, as a matter of fact, it is! Caregiving can be so intense at times, we’ll crack, if we don’t crack up. Caring for a loved one with dementia; in my case, my father with Alzheimer’s, made for some challenging times, requiring fortitude with a sense of humor.
“Where’s Mardig,” I asked my husband.
“I thought you were looking after him,” he replied.
Just then the phone rang. It was the neighbor telling me my father was outside in the street, yelling.
Aha, he snuck out the front door without us knowing. I ran out to find my father pacing our cul-de-sac, screaming: Help! They’re holding me prisoner! Heeelllp! I’m being held hostage!
I wanted to run back in the house and lock the door.
But wait, I couldn’t just leave him there!
I calmed my nerves and walked out to the street. Looking sheepishly for any signs of neighbors peering through windows, I approached my father with a smile. He smiled awkwardly. I asked him if he wanted to come with me. Fortunately, he recognized me as an ally and accompanied me, inside.
I had some explaining to do after that. Visiting a dozen neighbors with a picture of my father, I described the best I could the adventures of caring for one who lives with dementia.