Kelley Irwin

One day last week my brother, Bob Irwin, took my Mom and Dad golfing. Yes, golfing.

It has been 18 months since we received a formal medical diagnosis of dementia. This disease twists and turns in ways that are difficult to describe.

Dad used to golf every day. And loved it. My brother and Mom set Dad up for success. The two of them played each hole with Dad driving the cart (supervised, don’t worry!), and when they arrived at the green, they placed his ball for a putt. He made his putt every time but one. He looked at my brother and said – “This is an easy game.” – and winked.

Dad later told me he was in a golf tournament and he and his team came in second. He also said he wanted to see the scorecard of the first place team. This is my Dad. Happy, joking, a bit mischievous.

Two days later, Dad has a skin infection. I think (not a medical opinion), any infection/fever messes with his mind.

Conversation this day:
Dad – What do you have that shows us how much we have to spend?
Mom – You wrote it all down for me so we’re all good.
Dad – Do you have any cash?
Mom – Yes, it’s in your wallet.
Dad – My wallpaper?
Mom – No honey, in your billfold.
Dad – Where’s Bill?

When people ask, “How’s your dad?”, I usually say “He has good days and bad days.” It’s difficult to explain in a 30 second response there are good minutes and bad minutes. There are golf days and infection days. There are moments of happiness, but sometimes sprinkled with pain, confusion, and sadness. He always sends me off with “Be careful”.

That’s my dad!

So far.