Dad has been in the nursing home since last September. He celebrated his 80th birthday there in February of this year, and for the most part, he continues to stay pretty stable. Occasionally, he has to have his medications adjusted, but we are told that is a normal part of the process. He has a semi annual checkup, and if the staff feels that there is a need for him to be looked at before his appointment, then they call Mom and schedule it. This picture was taken on one of the days where I went there to cut his hair. He always appreciates his hair cuts!
Here he is shown "at work" at the nurses station, visiting with my brother, Jim. His years of working at the city power plant has Dad thinking that he is still "working". He will sometimes answer the phone when none of the nurses are around. One day the nurses called over to the clinic to get results they had been waiting on from a patient's tests....they were told that a male nurse had answered and they had given him the results. Guess who that male nurse was? Wayne. And he will go around shutting the lights off and closing doors in the hallway. All in day's work.
This is a picture of my Dad (on the right) with his dad, Harold Hewitt, probably during harvest. Interestingly enough, Dad has almost forgotten that he ever lived in our house in town, the one we moved to in 1971 (approximately). He still thinks that we live on the farm that he grew up on. We lived there until I was in Fifth Grade and then we moved to town. Once in awhile he will ask me to call Grandma Hewitt, and then I have to explain that she has been gone since 1987. One day he wanted to talk with her to ask her a question. I told him that was going to be a little bit "difficult", and he asked me why. I told him that she was gone...and he replied, "Well, that saves that argument then!"
Here is Dad in his younger days, standing in front of the farm house that he grew up in. I grew up there until I was almost 10. The house is still standing, but is not in very good shape.
Apparently this is where my brothers and I acquired our love of riding farm animals. Dad on one of their sheep when he was younger. My brothers and I used to try and ride the pigs, sneaking up on them while they were sleeping...then trying to ride as long as possible.
This is a picture of my Dad and his parents taken at the farm, since I see the barn in the background. His dad died suddenly of a heart attack in his mid-50's, and his mother, Gladys, passed away in 1987 from Parkinson's. It is always wise for you to know your family medical history.
This is Dad when he was a toddler on the farm. Still has that serious look on his face....like he is "working". I love these old pictures.
I am hoping that possibly some of the people in Beloit who attended Beloit High School in the late 40's and early 50's with Dad will know the other two people in this photo. Dad is on the far left with the plaid jacket on (very stylish)...and I do not know the woman and other man. They are in front of the old high school on Mill Street.
This one had the date of April 19, 1946 written on the back. Teacher was Miss Lillian Wiser. Pupils were Geraldine Hewitt, Larry Hewitt, Alice McCune, Betty McCune, Jerry Broadbent, Elva Tice and Wayne Hewitt (he is the middle in the back row). I am not sure where the school was, but the Labon School was near the farm. I attended there for one year before they closed it down and we went to Beloit to school.
This is how I find Dad some (many) days when I go up there. He may be taking a nap...and the nurses appreciate it when I do NOT wake him up!! He has escaped a few more times....once he fell and hit his head on the cement. For the most part, he has been cooperating with the staff. Sorry about the trip down memory lane with the older pictures, but they were too precious not to share. I will update this blog again soon. Thank you for reading and for supporting. If you know someone who has a parent or relative with Dementia or Alzheimer's...just be there for them. Sometimes you just need to listen to them, and sometimes they just need a hug. It is not an easy path for the patient, or the family. It is a difficult journey.....and everyone handles it in different ways. I use laughter most of the time....and the other days I use tears. No matter how you choose to deal with it...it is YOURS, and no one can tell you the correct way. Patience and love is a must....but the rest of the journey is personal.
