57: Frontotemporal Dementia Patient's Last Big Adventure

"Guess who's spending Christmas with us?" Matt announced as he walked in the door, his arms loaded with gifts and packages.
It's Christmas Eve and Matt just got home from work. He's got three bottles of wine, two cookie trays, a  couple of beautifully wrapped gift boxes, and a mysterious cardboard box that looks rather heavy for it's size. I take the cookies from him before they fall and he places everything down on the island countertop.
"Who? Who's spending Christmas with us?" I ask curiously.
Matt picks up the plain cardboard box and announces, "Frank!"
Matt had Frank cremated after his passing, but I never dreamed that he could then be mailed to us. I thought we would be taking one last, long trip back to South Mountain.
"That's Frank? Oh my gosh, get him off the countertop!" I was appalled that Frank's ashes were mingling with my Christmas treats.
"He can play Apples to Apples with us again." I suggested.
Matt said, "He'll probably win again too!"

Frank spent Christmas on top of the breakfront overlooking our Christmas dinner, spending it with us in a way. Honestly though, now that his spirit is free, I know he's not with us. If he could be anywhere right now, I know he's with Frances and Eric. After Terry passed away, I felt an odd presence for a few days. I admitted to Matt that I felt that Terry stayed with us for a time after she passed away and he said he also felt her. He said he knew even before the hospital called us that she had passed. He felt a breeze near his face a few minutes before the phone rang and he felt that it was her saying goodbye. Even my son Brett felt that he had an encounter with her spirit. I don't feel anything with Frank though and Matt says he doesn't either. But I still don't want him hanging around my house for long after the holidays.

"What are your plans for Frank?" I ask Matt after New Year and all the decorations have been cleaned up.
"I'm not sure yet." Matt answers.
"I think we should take him back to his home. That's where he would want to be the most." I said

"I think I might go to Ocean City, take out a boat and sprinkle him in the ocean. I'll call my brothers and see when they can make it." Matt seems like he's already thought it out in his head. Of course, I immediately think of the scene from "The Big Lebowski" when Walter and The Dude sprinkle Donny's ashes in the Pacific Ocean "that he loved so well" but the wind picks up and the ashes land all over them. I keep it to myself though. I'm sure it will be a good family outing, giving them all closure in sending Frank off to his last big adventure.

56: Final Outcome for FTD Patient

Frank lingered for about a year at South Mountain. Once, when we visited I thought he may have reached out for Matt, but it was hard to tell if there was any intention to the slight movement. The last time Matt and I visited him, we stood in his room awkwardly, wondering what to do or say until Matt finally said, "I'm going to go speak to the nurse."
I replied, "Go ahead, I'll stay here and keep Frank company."
I began chatting away about family members, dropping names that would be familiar to Frank and filling him in on the latest accomplishments of the children. There was no apparent reaction, just vacant eyes staring into space, but I continued on the chance that he could hear my voice. Soon, I had a visitor. One of the other residents, a very tall middle-aged man, came into the room. I said hello, but he didn't say anything, he just stood behind me in the corner of the room and listened too. I was a little disconcerted at the expression on his face, which seemed slightly cross, but I tried to include him, even though he didn't know who I was talking about. A few minutes later a woman, about sixty years-old peered into the room at us. She looked angry and impatient at me, like she was wondering when I was going to go home and leave them alone. She continued to pace outside the room in the hallway, but checked in on us from time to time. If she had a watch, I think she would have been checking it. Next, a handsome, friendly older gentleman came in smiling. He walked right up and stood beside me, shoulder to shoulder at Frank's bedside. I looked at him and said "Hello, do you know Frank?  I'm his sister-in-law" The man smiled back at me and mumbled something I didn't understand. He looked at Frank and made a sad expression and mumbled something unintelligible, but with an appropriate somber tone for the condition that Frank was in; extremely thin with contorted limbs. I continued with my long-winded speech about our current events as the man stood next to me, arms folded, nodding his head and smiling, looking from me to Frank, like he understood what I was saying, but I don't think he did at all.  All this time, the tall gentleman stood behind us in the corner, maybe just curious at this new stranger, but not able or willing to participate, and the impatient woman lingering a few seconds at a time in the doorway.

When Matt finally returned from speaking with the nurse, he found the crowd I had congregated in Frank's room and had to squeeze past the angry woman in the doorway. He looked at me quizzically, like "What in the world is going on here?" He said, "Boy, I just left you alone for a minute!"  Truthfully, I was glad he was back because I was a little nervous about the tall man. I introduced Matt to my new friend beside me. "This is my husband, Matt. He's Frank's brother." He smiled at nodded at Matt. We said our goodbyes to everyone, but I almost felt bad leaving them. They seemed so eager to have someone new visit. I knew this would be my last visit.  Frank was so gaunt and pale, it was clear he wouldn't be with us much longer. I kept it to myself though, I knew Matt wouldn't want to hear my dire prediction.

Outside, it was a perfect, beautiful sunny October day. The leaves were beginning to change colors to vibrant oranges and yellows. Matt and I took the self-guided driving tour around the Gettysburg landmarks and took a walk through the path on the battlefield, eventually making our way to Little Round Top where the view is spectacular. Especially on this brilliant clear day, where the leaves are in a colorful blaze of glory just before they burn out and fall.

Frank has fought his battles too.  His divorce, the struggle to maintain a relationship with the children he cherished who turned their backs on him, and the anguish over losing them, his legal issues, and his battle for his health for seven years, have all been formidable foes. He finally surrendered in December, just before Christmas. A nurse called and said Frank's breathing was labored and she didn't think he would make it through the night. I had noticed a rumbling in his chest when I was there in October and I knew it wasn't a good sign. He wouldn't be strong enough to clear any fluid in his lungs and it would eventually turn into pneumonia. Only an hour later they called to say that Frank had passed. He was 53 years old.  Matt and his brother had just visited a final time just a week before, but still he was surprised to hear. Matt, as always, still expecting the best case scenario will be the outcome.