Identical buildings and morning baseball

I continue to be challenged in my understandings of my dad's condition. Maybe there is no understanding to be had, but I'm one of those that has a compulsion to theorize. I'm inclined to lean heavily on the "postoperative delirium" theory for some of what's going on. Alzheimer's is tricky enough, and my comprehension of that is quite limited, so maybe the post-anesthesia issue isn't really in play here; plus, I always thought Alzheimer's was concentrated in loss of memory, but I'm learning there are other aspects too.

Regardless of reason, the things about Dad's behavior that have perplexed me today are not really memory-related.

First, and from what I'm told this started shortly after his surgery, he is more often than not utterly convinced that he is not at home but in a hospital-provided housing unit that is connected to many others and on a vast campus very far from his house. He has repeatedly expressed amazement that so many of the buildings are identical to each other in layout and furnishings, and has asked me how the building I've been sleeping at looks—is it the same as here? He also has been impressed with the quality of the TV as being "much better than the one at home," and is confused about why there's a pool in the yard as that seems dangerous for a place like this. This isn't something that varies, it's consistent in his perception even when other things are not.

It does go away from time to time, sort of—when the cat comes inside or goes out, he's not startled that the cat is here rather than "at home"; he has wanted to go out and get the mail, which is only an at-home thing. But soon afterward he remarks on when he goes home after being here, or how he's been in this place for a long time and shouldn't he go home soon.

I've been trying to figure out how this concept got lodged in his head, whether there was an event while he was in the hospital after surgery or while in again after a subsequent fall that locked in and the experience of going home was skipped over or never registered or something? I also realize that trying to figure that out is a fool's errand and not worth spending my energy on, I just can't help wondering.

The other thing today was that, after a nap in the afternoon, he got out of bed around 6:00 and greeted me and Marty with "good morning," not facetiously, and a little later when I rigged up the TV to use my MLB.TV account to watch Your Seattle Mariners lose again he found it very, very odd indeed that they were playing baseball—in a packed stadium, no less—at 8:00 in the morning. It was dark here, it was dark outside the ballpark on the screen, we'd mentioned it was evening, Marty was serving dinner, but he kept coming back to morning baseball. "Did you stay up all night so you'd be sure to be awake for this game?" he asked me, knowing I am not at all a morning person. "No, Dad, I got up around noon." Did not compute.

The morning baseball confusion is less perplexing to me than the not-at-home thing. He had slept during the day and got up in early evening, habitually he gets up in the mornings, given the overall condition I can understand that at least somewhat.

All of this is really hard to see, though. It's one thing to be informed from afar that Dad's in decline—even when the informing is greatly detailed—it's another to actually witness it. And that's just from me being here a couple of days. I expect Marty's pretty much crushed, or would be if he could relax long enough to just feel instead of being on guard as the caretaker while still trying to manage regular stuff. I think my being here at least helps him, even if it's not doing a lot for Dad. Though Dad is glad I'm here, and asks me two or three times a day how long I'll be here for. I've taken to just answering "a week or so" instead of attempting the more honest answer of "I'm not sure yet, it kind of depends" that I gave the first couple of times.

Also, I have been so preoccupied with all of this that I let it slip my mind that yesterday, September 3rd, was what would have been my grandfather's 106th birthday. Like I said last time, Grandpa never had to deal with dementia of any kind and lived to be 92½, fully cognizant all the way. I still miss him, though I admit to thinking about him less as time has gone on as it's been "normal" not to have him around. Bums me out a little that I missed acknowledging the day on the day, though.

One bright spot from today: I was wearing my Mariners cap and a J.P. Crawford jersey T-shirt while running an errand to the local Walmart (in typical circumstances, I would never patronize Walmart, but this is a "when in Rome" situation). A young (maybe 20 years old) employee at the store approached me and I was prepared to dismiss her, thinking it was going to be one of those, "can I help you find what you need" sorts of accostings that I usually avoid, but instead she indicated my attire and asked if I was from Washington. "I am," I said. Seattle? "Yep." She told me she had just relocated from Vancouver, WA, and was experiencing culture shock/weather shock/environment shock as she got used to living down here. I didn't press, but it sounded like she was questioning her life choices; I probably would be too if I were a 20ish young woman raised in the PNW and found myself living in the scorching desert populated by mostly senior citizens, retirees, and gay dudes (and gay retirees). Especially if I didn't play golf. I mean, what would I do for fun? Go to LA? Anyway, running into a friendly Washingtonian seemed to make her day, so I'm glad there was something to smile about amidst all this.

Meantime, my sister texted me from a Los Angeles movie theater that was among the many nationwide celebrating the 60th anniversary of Star Trek by showing some of the feature films, tonight's selection being Star Trek—The Motion Picture. Part of the event tonight was a Q & A with Eugene "Rod"  Roddenberry Jr., and among the things texted to me was a short video of my nephew Ben asking Rod a question about how Gene Sr. would have felt about some of the newer series maybe straying from the original's ethos. Also a photo of Ben with Rod. Very cool. Glad my sister's raising him to be a proper nerd. (Rod's reply included his lack of affection for my favorite Trek series, Deep Space Nine, but I see where Rod's coming from even if I think he's missing out.) Then she complained about the movie being too long. Can't argue with her there, STTMP is bloated with nothing scenes that exist just to show off new-for-1979 special effects and pad the run time. I've long thought I could do my own edit of the picture, cut a good 20-30 minutes out of it and lose zero dialogue. It'd surely be a way better movie that way.