More like a patient than my Dad

"Community health team?  Who are they?  Why do I need to see them?  There's nothing wrong with me!  And how come you know about this appointment and I don't?  You're plotting behind my back, aren't you?"

These would be typical responses from a person with dementia, feeling that matters for which he would normally take responsibility have been organised by others; which of course is precisely the case.  What he won't realise is that this is happening because he can't act appropriately in his own interests.

Dad does indeed have an appointment with a community health team.  The word "mental" should be inserted between "community" and "health" but I don't want to tell him that.  I was contacted about the appointment first and told  him later because that's the arrangement I negotiated, and it's common practice.  There is somthing wrong with him: he senses it but we haven't given it a name, and I'll take advice from the team about whether we break the news to him or not.  Albeit with his interests at heart - I don't want him to be any more anxious and confused than he is anyway - I am "plotting" behind his back. 

But he doesn't mind how I fix things.  If I've arranged an appointment for him, with some unknown team, he'll shuffle into the passenger seat and let me drive him there.  He hasn't asked me what they'll be discussing with him.  If I tell  him Social Services are coming to re-assess his care needs, that's fine, they're coming.  The lack of curiosity is almost scarier than aggression and paranoia would be, although easier to deal with.  He's unhealthily compliant right now - a "vulnerable adult" indeed, who would be so easy to rip off or exploit that I fear for him every day he has to live on his own.

Me:     "We need to think about where you're going to live."
Dad:    "I don't want to move."
Me:     "Perhaps not now, but you need to start thinking about later on."
Dad::   "I suppose you're right" - as opposed to "I'll be fine/you're not thinking of putting me in a home are you/what sort of places might we be talking about here?"
Me:     "And had you thought about moving down to Midshire, to be nearer me."
Dad:    "Oh no, I wouldn't want to leave Grottsville, why?"
Me:     "Because if I was nearer to you I could come and see you much more often and I wouldn't have all the driving to do." 
Dad:    "Oh, well we could think about that then."

Acquiescence again.  It's like when he hears me trying to organise things for him he slips into the same deferential attitude that he would towards a doctor or social worker.  I cease to be his son and become another authority figure trying to make sure he's all right; and he's not so much my dad as one of the pwd's I meet at Partial Recall, or at the day hospital.