Nuclear Disaster

Recently we have had a horrific disaster across the Pacific in Japan. There has been a huge earthquake and tsunami creating massive destruction. Included in that destruction is damage to two nuclear plants. As I have read the information about the nuclear plants, I can't help but know that my dad would have known very much what needs to be done in this situation to prevent a serious nuclear disaster.
I have had the opportunity to read much of his history in the nuclear industry, both in the Navy and in the civil sector. My dad served under Admiral Rickover, who was considered the Admiral of the "Nuclear Navy". My dad was a key person in building four air craft carriers, including being the chief engineer of the Enterprise. He also was involved in the conversion of the Bainbridge, the first nuclear frigate and designed the seal, and the Nautilus, the first nuclear submarine. Dad was often referred to as "Mini Rickover", as he was third in command. Although his professional life often took a toll on his family and personal life, he took his job seriously and did his job with great pride. His officer reviews always reflected that sense of integrity and workmanship.
Unfortunately, due to the Alzheimer's, I feel my dad has his own nuclear disaster going on within himself. For years because of his brilliant mind, he was able to hide it from the public view. However deep inside his brain, changes were taking place uncontrolled. Sometimes they have problems at the nursing home because dad thinks he is still in the Navy, or because he thinks "people aren't doing their job". I am so grateful for loving and understanding staff who take the time to talk to him and comfort him until he feels safe again.
I am reminded of a story told by Admiral Rickover,
In ancient times a philosopher came to a city. He was determined to save its inhabitants from sin and wickedness. Night and day he walked the streets and haunted the marketplaces. He preached against greed and envy, against falsehood and indifference. At first the people listened and smiled. Later they turned away; he no longer amused them. Finally, a child moved by compassion asked, "Why do you go on? Do you not see it is hopeless?"
The man answered, "In the beginning, I thought I could change men. If I still shout, it is to prevent men from changing me."
I am sure that is why my dad shouts. It is as though part of him is shouting to the Alzheimer's, "HEY, STOP CHANGING ME!!"

Saying Goodbye

In some ways Alzheimer's can be a blessing. Although everyday I curse the disease I am so grateful for the time I have with my dad because I know I am not ready to say goodbye. I feel as though I am saying goodbye one little piece at a time. As his memory has diminished, I have tried to gather and record as much as I possibly can so it will not be lost forever. My dad is so different now compared to the man I grew up with as a child. He was a Naval Officer, proud, stern and demanding. We grew up with statements such as, "What's the sense of doing something if you are not going to do it right?" and "If you want something, you gotta work for it!" Although I did many, many things with my dad, compliments were very hard to come by. I grew up believing my dad was perfect and infalable. Now he is childlike as my daughter takes him by the hand and leads him to where he needs to go. His eyes light up when he sees lady J and me when we go to see him at the nursing home and I am grateful each time that he still remembers us. Sometimes he visits with us and dances and sings with us. Other times he sleeps while we read to him or we just enjoy the comfort of being with each other. It is a comfort to know that he doesn't remember how painfully my mom died, yet he remembers her beauty and he remembers dancing with her. It is a comfort to know that he doesn't remember all the petty fights we had when I was growing up, especially as a stupid teenager. It is a comfort to know that he only knows my sister in a loving manner after years of animosity. Yes, everyday I grieve a little more as my dad slips away, but everyday there is a little more acceptance. For now, I cherish every moment in time with him as if it may be the last. I love him so very much.