On Monday, Feb. 16/09, early evening, Stan and I planned to leave on a respite week. He and Papa picked up his sister, Lois, from the airport at suppertime. She would be staying at our home to care for Papa and allow me some time to rejuvenate. Lois does this several times throughout the year and I could not survive without her gracious assistance.
While we stood at the front door saying goodbye, Papa rose from his chair and headed for the closet to get his coat. We immediately knew he was planning to join us. I carefully attempted to explain that he would be staying here, in his home, and his daughter, Lois (whom we introduced several times) would be caring for him. He was unconvinced and undeterred.
Stan took off his coat and coaxed Papa to his bedroom. Both he and Lois attempted to convince him it was bedtime, this was his bedroom and he should start getting ready for bed. The bed covers were turned back and the pj's were placed on the bed beside him. He sat there still unconvinced.
After much prodding, assisting with clothing and the regular bedtime routine, Stan left Lois to finish the process so we could escape without more complications. We learned later that Papa was up no less than 7 times throughout that night.
My mixed emotions are: relieved to get away for a short while but badly that someone else has to deal with all the nonsense; and silently grieving at the confusion that plagues Papa.