Letting Go of the Old Dad

The family gathered today at Dad's place to have a little pot-luck (Which didn't turn out to be very lucky. We had lots of chips, water bottles, two kinds of cake, a salad and some cole slaw). It was the first family gathering since Dad's stroke. Dad was able to join us for about an hour of that and then he tired and needed to go back to his room.

Things have changed with Dad. I suppose that goes without saying when you're dealing with the aftermath of a serious stroke but I think I've been a bit delusional on what life will be like from here. Dad's been so strong that it's been easy to believe that he'll bounce right back. And indeed, he has done very well. His speech is excellent, his ability to understand and converse is good. His memory is intact as far as I can tell.

But there are indications that he is not progressing as we would have hoped. He still requires two full assistants to get out of bed. He gets tired very quickly. He isn't able to focus on visual things like pictures, puzzles, and computers - things he loved to do before the stroke. Today Susan brought his camera to him and after an extended period of trying, he was not able to figure out how to get it to work. And although his conversation is good, he doesn't have the same level of engagement that he used to. He's different.

I don't want to lose hope in him but at the same time, I want to live well with what he has. If I'm always focused on things he doesn't have, I fear I may lose focus on the good that's still there. So I'm wondering if I need to come to the acceptance that Dad may never be able to stand again, that he'll be in some sort of assisted living for the rest of his life, and that he needs to explore new hobbies that don't involve visual stimulus.

It's just hard to let the old Dad go.