Last night I attended a class at Overlake Hospital that spoke on accomodating and handling the behavioral changes of a person with Alzheimer's. My Dad doesn't have Alzheimer's disease, but he has been diagnosed with "frontal-temporo lobe dementia," which creates a lot of the same behavioral changes in the person.

This is where life got tougher. This is how my dad has changed. His speech is clipped and mono-tone. He has gained weight. He has a lot of difficulty focusing on tasks, so much so that he no longer reads the daily news or works out at the local gym. It gets too boring for him. He knows who all of us are, but he's not the same man who raised me.

See, the man you would meet now is not the man I have known for 29 years of my life. He's so very different now, and not in a bunch of bad ways, but in enough ways that he is not Himself. He is not as jocular, intuitive, or sweet-natured. This is not cancer. According to the experts, he is not going to get better or go into remission. This is the new him, and the man he will be and become for the rest of his life.

Why the hell am I sharing any of this? Because I don't know anybody who has a parent with this condition. This is the man who read books to me before bed and taught me to throw a spiral. He bailed me out of jail, shared bottles of wine with me, and watched years-worth of sporting events with me. And those are all in the past, building blocks to the monument of steadfast love and devotion my dad had to his children. That monument is now in his honor. I have nothing but love for my dad, and as I grow into my new role as his protector and helper I know that I have a strength about me that will carry me through moments of our new life.

Regardless, I'm still angry to punch Jesus.