[originally posted June 5 2011, 11:27 AM] [photo from calvertstairs.com]

My dad needs to go upstairs and check on things in the attic. He didn't take kindly to our caregiver telling him that sounded like risky business.

Problem is, he's 83 and suffering from some dementia. He's about as safe going up these stairs as I would be at 2 AM with a full bladder after a few too many. Being the wise geriatrician that I am, I realize that his need to go upstairs is fueled by some more fundamental needs. Now there's a puzzle to solve, and I like puzzles. Especially ones involving quirky human systems. I'm a change-agent.

So, my wife, Sandy, learned that two of the needs are:

• Go upstairs to sort photos. There is a treasure trove of them. He handed his photographer heritage on to me.
• Just to check on things. Near bedtime, he'll cycle through the house a time or two to make sure everything is squared away, lights off, door locked, and so forth.

So, here's our plan. At least, the Sunday afternoon June 5 version, subject to modification.

• Bring the photos downstairs, where he can get them without crossing the River Styx.
• Give him a photo project: make an album for his wife, Iris. Sort them into piles (Jeff in this stack, Lori here, Brad over there...).
• Redirect him when he needs to "just go check". "Bill, could you do this for me first?".
• Remind him that the pretty girl in the picture in this blog post isn't up there. His pretty girl is in the hospital bed in the living room.

If you find yourself in a similar situation, buy this book: The 36-Hour Day. Pass it on

Wish me luck.

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Update - Jun 6, 2011

After some sage guidance, we decided to let dad just go upstairs. There is always a balancing of risks and of competing values in life. Maybe it's his man-cave. Maybe I don't need a reason.