The day after Thanksgiving, my phone started buzzing at 5:30 a.m. It was my father, Ben.

Nothing good ever comes from an unexpected early morning call. Still, when I answered the phone, my father was in high spirits, telling me all about a church project he was organizing to send humanitarian relief to Ukraine.

For 45 minutes, he told me about all these things happening in his life and how he was putting together a significant airlift operation to help the people of Ukraine. I was proud of him for bringing together so many resources to help our friends on the other side of the world.

My father and I are Army veterans and are used to high-tempo operations with complicated logistical planning and details. It seemed natural when he started giving me orders to write a press release to send to the local media in the North Texas region. But something didn’t seem right when he told me to contact President Biden and set up a press conference to roll out all the details of the humanitarian airlift operation.

So after our call, I called my stepsister, Maria, and that’s when the grand plan fell apart as she began to tell me about Ben’s delirium and altered state of mind. She said several doctors had made diagnoses ranging from early onset dementia, PTSD stage 2, bipolar and other mental health issues. She questioned their diagnosis because none were psychiatrists nor did they do any in-depth assessments.

I was devastated, feeling I was losing time with my father, how the pandemic had kept us apart, and how the isolation may have caused or hastened his situation.

As the days passed, my father kept calling me and telling me about everything he was doing and urging me to “spread the word,” which I did by telling my family members to humor and not upset him.

He was obviously in an altered state of mind, living out his delusions by writing operations orders and going door-to-door telling his neighbors, local officials, and anyone who would listen. But many people weren’t receptive to his story. They could see he was in a manic state and didn’t want to help him, and several people called the police.

At first, he was escorted home and released to his wife. But eventually, he was taken to the emergency room a couple of times for treatment, but they didn’t provide any relief.

After each visit, he would call and tell me of a different mental health diagnosis, but I couldn’t believe him. He was in a manic state but coherent, aware of his surroundings, and motivated to accomplish his mission. Doctors were missing something.

As I shared his story, several people suggested he might be experiencing a urinary tract infection. I was shocked to learn that this is common and easily missed. My stepmother, Debra, remembered that a doctor mentioned a UTI in early November but didn’t prescribe any antibiotics.

I wanted to go to Texas to help, but couldn’t. So, I reached out and spent two to three hours a day speaking with doctors, calling helplines, and VA offices trying to navigate a complicated system.

Eventually, my dad was treated. On Christmas Eve, he was released after recovering from a bad UTI and pneumonia. His speech rate was regular, and he had stopped talking about his humanitarian airlift operation.

During midwinter break, I went to Texas with my eldest son, and dad was in good spirits. He showed us his workshop, where he enjoys refurbishing antique radios, but I could see the ordeal had taken a toll. He tires easily and is greatly embarrassed by his interactions with the neighbors and police.

At age 78, he is hardworking with a “can do” attitude. So much so, that a week before the onset of his delusions, he had painted the exterior of his neighbor’s house because “it needed to be done.”

I’m relieved he’s feeling better and now acutely aware that a common condition can be overlooked and easily diagnosed as a severe mental health condition. Most importantly, I learned we must follow our intuition and advocate for our loved ones because we know them better than anyone else.