Against everyone's expectations, my Dad made it to the ripe old age of 90. Almost 91... he clawed at life using the armchair as an anchor on this mortal coil. After his heart attack at 80 he decided the best course of action was to move as little as possible.
Refusing any exercise, he sat in the armchair, and basically declined. The only times we could get him out was to have his cataracts done. So he lived in fear of death. Keeping going for 10 more years of non living.
It was heart breaking.
What was interesting was, and this sounds bad. When he developed a form of Alzheimer's he mellowed. He became more approachable. Before his illness he would delight in his role as contrarian. To put it bluntly he would thrive in getting you angry. With the onset of his mental decline he became more gentle. My mother, not so much. That's a different story.
Also, he became super honest. So much so he decided to share a truth with me when we were visiting with our children. Within earshot of my daughter he told me that he never wanted to have me.
I said "Pardon.."
" I never wanted you. I have always regretted it."
I thought for a moment, looking around at my children, his grand children happily playing and chatting to their grand mother. Everyone seemed very happy.
" But you don't think that now, right?"
" Yeah, I do."
My response was to ignore it. Bury it. It wasn't until long how he died and events with my mother's attitude with me changed from my biggest advocate in the family with her own mental decline I realised the what world I had been living in when I was growing up.
My Mum was my force field against the rest of the family.
