“A sweater is what a child wears when the Mother is cold,”  said Dr. Scott Floyd, my former counseling professor at seminary.  He was teaching us the difference between a felt need and a perceived need.   How many times as kids did we insist we were not cold and tried to refuse a sweater before going outside?  How many of us went outside wearing the sweater because our parents made us – even after we protested?  Our perceptions of someone else’s needs do not always correspond to what they feel they need. 

Dad is donning many new sweaters that I’ve asked him to wear, though he isn’t feeling cold.  I perceived that we needed to streamline his finances, get insurance reimbursements,  enroll him in the VA medical system, explore the interactions of his supplements with his medications, and control spending.   I have invested countless hours to get to this place, but I am coming to realize this practical form of helping Dad was the easy part.  There’s a larger issue that I won’t be able to fix. 

Dad’s compulsive hoarding disorder (CHD) creates ongoing tension between us.  Dad is driven to overstock, while I am passionate about keeping his finances in the black.  Thus, when he makes a purchase request,  it is typically more than he needs, and I instinctively question the amount requested.  I send him a detailed budget each month demonstrating the thin margin he has, but it doesn’t seem to get through to him that we can’t spend on extras.  In fact, he responds by using the credit card.  I learned the hard way that when Dad says he’s out of something, that may mean the item was moved to another room, and he doesn’t remember taking it there.  Or it may mean the item is blending in with the clutter so he can’t see it.  It can also mean that he wants an extra supply of “x” because it relieves his anxiety.  For example, one day I got an urgent call that he was out of a certain OTC medication.  Believing him, I made a special trip to buy a new box only to find one sitting on the shelf in plain view.  Tension sparked immediately.  “Dad, do you realize you still have this OTC medication with three sheets of tablets inside the box?  Did you even look inside?” I asked.  Dad shot me a look of irritation and never answered the question.  

To cure the overstocking tendency,  Dad’s wearing a new sweater.  In order to manage his checkbook,  I go to his assisted living apartment  every other week and take inventory.  My goal is to replenish his shelves with enough groceries, OTC meds, and medical supplies,  to sustain him for two weeks.  I make sure that the quantities he requests are not going to exceed a  given two-week cycle.  But there’s tension.  Recently, he asked me to get six boxes of cereal, while he still had one unopened box on his shelf.  When I came back to the apartment with only three boxes of cereal – because he had told me three boxes last him a month – he was displeased and asked why I edited his order.  I reminded him that we are on limited cash flow.  Our goal is to pace our spending until his next checks arrive.  The financial management  just doesn’t register with him.  

Dad will occasionally take off a sweater.  When Dad perceives that he’s running low on any item, he feels anxious.  He will line up a van to go to Walmart instead of waiting for our next inventory.  I know this happens because I review our checking account online, and I see the cleared checks he’s written.  He doesn’t know how close he is to being overdrawn because he doesn’t ask me.  He has no idea how much of his balance is earmarked in the billpay pipeline.  It doesn’t matter to him.  He purchases what he feels he “needs”.  

There is an additional sweater I want him to wear.  I believe he would benefit from the help of a psychologist who specializes in CHD.  I took the time to look for an expert in Austin, and it turns out that there is a psychologist less than two miles from his apartment who makes home visits to do evaluations.  I asked the Nursing Director if Medicare covers these type of visits, and she told me that it does, if it’s ordered by a medical professional.  Since Dad continues to experience paranoia  in addition to his CHD,  his PCP agreed that an evaluation would be helpful.  However, the Nursing Director informed me that Dad would have to sign a release allowing the psychologist to evaluate him.  When I mentioned the idea to Dad, he refused.  “The last thing I need is for someone to ‘help’ me,” he said.  “I am afraid that if this gets imposed on me it will dampen our relationship.”  I told him I would bring him some information on this disorder so he can at least get educated on this issue. 

Do I continue to put on sweaters I think Dad needs to wear to ward off financial ruin, or do I let CHD continue to takeover?  Here are some of the questions  I struggle with as I try to get a handle on what it means to show honor and dignity to my Dad: 

• In trying to help Dad in ways I think are meaningful for him, are my efforts really about meeting his needs or mine? 
• Is “doing what’s best for him” a code for “Let’s do what will make Lee Ann’s life easier”?
• Exactly how much dysfunction does he have to demonstrate before I handle more of his affairs? 
• Doesn’t grace in the midst of some mental deterioration fit in this situation?  If so, is there such a thing as too much grace?  How do we recognize the natural decline in memory and the ability to make prudent decisions without over-reacting? 
• Why should I care if he runs up credit card debt?  It’s not my problem and won’t be when he passes.   Am I over-functioning in the area of helping him with his finances?
• In the scheme of life, are a few poor decisions by Dad and the frustrations they create for me a mountain or a mole hill?  Are they hassles? Yes.  Does that entitle me to pull the trigger right away and take over his affairs? 
• Most importantly, how does God view my decision-making and how I am trying to honor Dad and give him dignity?  God commands, “honor your father and mother.”  Is He pleased with how I am trying to serve Dad in his time of need? 

I don’t have any answers to the questions above, but they float around in my head regularly.  My Father will never wear this sweater around CHD.  He doesn’t see it as a problem and probably never will.  He will always order six boxes of cereal.  The heart of the matter is that Dad is out of control, and I’m trying to help him gain better control with new sweaters when he doesn’t feel cold.  I don’t see a solution yet.  This is where my faith in God is so important.  

The Bible says, “If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him.” (Jam 1:5).  God will share His wisdom with me.  I rest in the fact that God knows my heart.  He knows my Dad’s heart and his needs.  I plan to pray fervently for God’s guidance, wisdom, and grace to make the best decisions possible on behalf of my Dad.  If I am in denial, I am confident He will show me that.  If I am missing the mark, I am confident that He will show me because He desires to take care of Dad just as much as He wants to take care of you and me.  I will continue to err on the side of giving Dad the benefit of the doubt.  I will continue to allow occasional mental lapses without looking for a “gotcha” to justify taking over his affairs.  I believe that as the days go on, the reality of what needs to happen will crystalize more as God shows me how He’s at work in my Dad’s life.  I know that God will show me how to love my Dad, honor my Dad, and give Dad dignity.  He will give me the “peace that surpasses all human understanding that will guard my heart and mind in Christ Jesus.” (Phil 4:7)   

In the meantime, there are plenty of new sweaters hanging in his closet.  Maybe I should take them to Goodwill. 

Blessings,

Lee Ann

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