"Hello, Mr. Layton, this is Trans-Port. Uhh . . . we had a situation today with your brother . . . and, uhh, we won't be able to provide transportation for him any longer." The dispatcher from the transportation service called about three months into Frank's cognitive rehab. It was a really good idea. Matt would have done anything to help Frank, but this just wasn't working. Frank hated being there. He wasn't learning anything. The more they tried to teach him, the more confused and disoriented he became. He would have the guard at the desk call and ask us to come pick him up. He had to wait a little while for Trans-Port to come get him and he would become impatient, or maybe he just forgot they were coming. He just knew he wanted to go home.
"Oh no, what happened?" Matt asked worriedly. "Well, your brother kept taking his safety harness off. It's a requirement to remain buckled in at all times while the bus is moving." The dispatcher explained.
"Hmm, I wonder why he did that?" Matt puzzled.
"Well, I don't know but the driver had to pull over and go back and strap him in twice on the way back. Then the third time your brother tried to jump off the bus while it was moving. The driver had to physically restrain him and the police had to be called." the dispatcher explained calmly despite the dramatic events.
"Oh, I'm so sorry. I don't know why he would do that." Matt apologized.
"Mr. Layton, it's a safety issue. We have to consider the safety of our driver, the other passengers and other vehicles on the road. We just can't take a chance again."
"I understand, I'm very sorry this happened." Matt apologized again.
Matt went to visit Frank at home that evening after work. "Frank, what happened today?"
"The cops came." was all Frank said.
"Frank, why did you try to jump off the bus?" Matt asked crossly.
"I wanted to go home." Frank said simply.
Frank had forgotten how to use his cell phone, so there wasn't much use in calling him. He didn't answer. On one of his shopping binges, he bought a new cell phone. Even Matt and I didn't know how to use it though. Frank couldn't remember where he bought it so Matt had to make some phone calls to track down the store he bought it at so he could return it. He exchanged it for a basic phone that was easy to use. We don't know what he did with his old phone that he knew how to use, it was lost and forgotten somewhere like so many things these days. He just couldn't learn to use the new phone. This is a guy that worked at a phone store for years and he couldn't operate the most basic phone they sell. I showed him the two buttons, Contacts and Call. To simplify it I erased the fifty contacts he had in there and left my home phone, cell phone, Matt's work, his aunt and uncle and two brothers. He tried over and over and just couldn't remember how to make a call. "Just keep trying Frank, you'll get it." I said reassuringly, but I was becoming doubtful after watching him try so intently and failing. He did know that I erased his contacts. He said to me, "they're missing, the other things, they're missing." I took me a few minutes to realize that he wanted all his old contacts back in there. They're probably people he worked with years ago that he was hanging on to. The next time I looked at his phone he had them all back in there. He must have gone back to the phone store and had them put back in again.
Matt called the rehab nurse that was working with Frank to give her the bad news that he wouldn't be able to attend any longer. At first she tried to convince Matt that it was important for Frank to continue with therapy. Then he asked her if she thought Frank had made any progress and she had to admit that she wasn't getting anywhere with him at all and wished him luck. We still didn't know that Frank had Frontotemporal Dementia. Despite still seeing a psychiatrist monthly, a medical doctor for high blood sugar and blood pressure, and the rehab hospital, no one came up with a new diagnosis or treatment.
Matt called the mental health clinic that Frank was attending to speak to his psychiatrist about Frank's mental and behavioral decline.
"Are you the patient?" asked the receptionist.
"No, I'm his brother, but I wanted to speak to Dr. Simmons about my brother." Matt responded.
"No, sorry, doctor is not allowed to discuss anyone's case." The receptionist said shortly.
"That's fine, I won't discuss his case. I just want to give the doctor some information." Matt said.
"Yah, that would be discussing the case." The receptionist reiterated.
"Could you just ask him to call me?"Matt restated.
It took three days and another request for the psychiatrist to call back. He wasn't very interested in what Matt had to say. The doctor said that unless Matt was guardian, he could not discuss Frank's case with him.
"Where is this alimony hearing?" I wondered. "We could use some help here."
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