I met Robin’s father, Theodore – Ted, but I did not know him. When I started dating Robin in 2008 he had already been in a nursing home for many years due to Alzheimer’s. It had been years since he had recognized anyone, even his wife. I am not sure how long we had been dating before Robin took me by to visit her father, but a while. Robin did not visit her father, Ted, much in this period as her mother was still alive and primary caregiver. As alluded to elsewhere Robin’s relationship with her mother was “complicated”, and this put visiting her father in the same realm.
Ted’s grandfather had been the village blacksmith back in Mother Russia. Looking at Ted’s physique it was easy to believe that ancestry. Even after many years in a nursing home he still looked fit and he definitely was still strong. I remember Robin getting into a playful tug-of-war with him over some trifle. There was no way she was going win the game except he lost interest in it. Robin inherited much of his body type. I like to tell a bit of a tall tale about Robin helping me to move out of my Creve Coeur apartment. When it came time for the sofa she grabbed it by one leg, lifted it up with a straight arm and carried it out to the truck. Clearly, a bit of an exaggeration, but I could have seen Ted doing this in his younger days.
Robin described her father as a peaceful man. His was probably naturally so, but she told me a story of how this trait became to be so much a part of his personality. As a young man he had gotten into a fist fight with another young man. He punched the other fellow and did so much more damage than he ever intended that he vowed to never fight again. How ingrained this decision was, became proven one afternoon when we were at the nursing home. Her father was in the limited access area of the nursing home with other dementia patients. We were in the common area “visiting” with her father. In another sitting area was an elderly woman sitting by herself. Suddenly for no apparent external reason she become very agitated and angry. She jumped up, walked directly over to Ted and gave him a mighty slap right across his face while yelling something unintelligible at him. Ted just sat there looking at her. Robin leaped up, directed the woman away and went after a staff member to take charge of her.
Ted had not spoken intelligently for many years. But one time while Robin was visiting him alone as she got up to leave she dropped her keys. He said, “I’ll get those for you.” He bent over and did so. That is what is so scary about Alzheimer’s, the spark of the real person shines through occasionally. I have a nightmare about my mother that the real Juanita is locked in there somewhere and very aware. She just cannot fight her way out through the tangle of the disease. If that is true, how horrible it must be. We humans are subject to many terrible diseases, and dementia is one of them. After a visit with my mother I always have tears in my eyes.
After Robin’s mother died, Robin and her brother Michael became primary caregivers. One of the first things they did was to move him to a somewhat cheaper nursing home. Her mother had maintained Ted in what can only be described as a luxury nursing home. Since he was self-pay, the two of them decided to conserve his money the best they could. There was nothing amiss about the new digs; it was just not fancy like the other. Robin felt like the level of care was actually better than the other, just with more austere surroundings.
When he was first moved there he was still ambulatory. I remember him shuffling around his room. For some reason he said very clearly and distinctly, “something, something, something.” Those were the only actual words I ever heard him speak. Again that spark that is so scary to me.
Sometime after he had been in the new nursing home for a while, he either forgot or decided he did not want to walk anymore. He became wheelchair bound although there was no physical reason that he should be. Except for his mind he remained in excellent health until he passed away, taking very few of the usual medications of old age. The longer he was in the wheelchair the less he was inclined to remain upright. This became a bit of a problem at meal times as he had a tendency to recline despite the best efforts to keep him in a position to eat properly. In the end this is probably what did him in as he died of pneumonia. The probable cause of the pneumonia was that he had aspirated some food.
After her mother’s death Robin started to visit her father more in the new nursing home. Partially because this was what she wanted to do and partially so the staff would know that someone cared for this man and the level of care he was receiving. I would occasionally go with her. Obviously, not a lot of conversation during these visits, but Robin would always bring a Hershey bar without nuts and feed it to him slowly. He seemed to really appreciate the chocolate.
It was during one of these visits that Ted left an ongoing legacy for Robin and me. Until the end of his days Ted appreciated women. I remember sitting there one time when a young female aide walked by. His eyes started tracking her as she passed, and then both eye brows shot up several times. It was a very definite sign of his appreciation of her feminine charms. Robin and I both cracked up. All I can say is that men are men no matter how old they are or what shape they are in. I sincerely hope I am also a bit of a Casanova until my eyebrows stop arching.
This multiple eyebrow movement has since become a bit of a tradition with Señora and I. Whenever one of us is feeling a little randy or perhaps just a little playful we will look at the other and raise our eyebrows several times. We call it doing the Ted.
All I can say is thank you Ted for the laugh and thank you for the legacy.
When Ted passed away Robin wrote the eulogy for her father. I found and still find it very touching. It put it on Curmudgeon-Alley a while back. Here is a link to it: My Father, Ted Weinhaus
Keep well.
Great story.