Talking to the invisible man

Dad sounded really unhappy tonight.  Confused as ever, still thinking he's going home any day, but complaining of feeling tired and not interested in music - are you registering this?  Not interested in music.  That's like the girls in the Daily Star not bothering to take their clothes off.

Perhaps it's the medication.  The ward seems to be concentrating on his hallucinations, so have prescribed him an anti-psychotic.  Fair enough, it's preferable for a man to be in touch with reality, but it seems there's a price: these drugs can lower the patient's mood.  And I'm asking: suppose he's happier talking to the invisible man, maybe imagining that the invisible man is talking back?  I'm not saying it's a lifestyle choice, like he's booked a holiday on some alternative planet, but have they thought that pychosis might be the brain's way of trying to cope with the dementia, as if when reality is too confusing, let's try something else?  Is it doing him any harm to be off the planet?

Maybe if it's also accounting for the withdrawal from the ward day-room and his lack of interest in things that would normally give him pleasure.  Personally I'm more bothered about his incontinence - or is that an aspect of the hallucinatory state as well?  More to read up on.  Must make sure I talk to an actual doctor now they've got the measure of him and are starting on the medical interventions.  The nurse who answered the phone earlier said "we can't give you too much personal information over the phone" like there was some doubt as to who I am.  "I'm not trying to be offensive", she said, sensing the irritation in my tone.  I told her I wasn't offended but on reflection, I was.  They'd tell me if I was there, I can give her information only a son would have, to prove my bona fides, what's her problem?  All right, it's my problem and it's the usual: three hours drive down the effing M1 coupled with, on this occasion, the fact I'm tied up this weekend and genuinely can't make the trip.

I don't mind being Dad being muddled but I expect the ward to keep him happy.  If that means letting him hang on to his psychosis, so be it.  Even in the real world we have the right to our delusions: that the UK needs nuclear weapons, that an angel showed Jospeph Smith some gold plates and helpd him translate them into the book of Mormon, that who footballers and film stars sleep with is of the slightest interest to the general public.  We don't medicate people who believe such twaddle, why pick on some harmless old man  just for talking to a someone who isn't there?  And even as I write those words I know I'm being unreasonable.  So?  This blog is at least partly about how I feel, dammit.  And people don't always feel reasonable.