When in a funk, I am not fun to be around. I know this. And my husband is finding it out the hard way. I've been down since hearing that my parents don't qualify for the retirement place they were all scheduled to move into. It's a shock. Everything was moving towards the move. There was forward momentum, albeit slow. Then, the doctor for the facility reviewed mom's medical records and said, essentially, that she is too advanced in her declining health to be admitted. I think the whole process should be reversed, with a medical review FIRST, and then if you pass the review, you start the application and purchase process. This has been a real let down for the entire family. It seems, now, their two choices are to have more in home care (dad is burning out quickly) or to place mother in an assisted living facility or skilled nursing. I doubt she'll be able to live out her life at home. At some point, her disease will demand even more care, care that can only be done by professionals in a facility that is set up for that. And that will be a bummer.
I remember well when my ex-wife's grandfather had to go to skilled nursing because grandma could no longer take care of him at home, and they didn't want to bring help into the home. So, despite his vigorous protestations, into the facility he went. Every time we visited, he would cry and beg to go home. It was heartbreaking. So much so that his wife refused to visit him there, as did his granddaughter. So he was even more alone than ever. A vicious and cruel cycle. We were there with him when he took his last breath, for all the good it did him. I'm not sure he knew we were there.
He had a roommate who wailed continuously, and the poor gentleman had to sleep on a mattress on the floor because he kept falling out of bed. It was a pitiful sight to witness. Luckily, grandpa could turn off his hearing aids.
Why do people object so damned much to have loving care done in their home? If you have the room for a live in person, I think it's selfish to send your ailing one away to a miserable and lonely room in a facility. I'd rather make the adjustment to living with a caregiver. My parents, however, have only very reluctantly let a care giver into their home for 3 days a week. And then they don't use her to her full capacity. They keep her at arm's length, she's "the help" and they are Lord and Lady of the Manor. Frustrating and boring for her.
This rejection of my parents by the retirement home hits me hard at a very deep level, for all the reasons I stated above. I'm walking the line of being helpful but keeping my own needs in mind. I did care giving for mom for 3 years recently, and it was always a struggle to get dad to give up any kind of control in his home. Maybe he'll just need to come to his wit's end before he cries uncle and let's someone take over. It also took a very big toll on my health. I have been very healthy since moving out of their home and not having my life revolve around them. I want to keep it that way.
This morning, my husband helped me set up Spotify on my cell phone. It was a challenge for me and I lost my cool. I took a chill pill, literally. Then got back to wrestling with forgotten passwords and technical difficulties. Finally, viola! I put on a playlist called Happy Hits, plugged in the ol' earbuds and took Lucy for a little walk around the neighborhood. Pharrell's "Happy" completely changed my mood to one of joy. Thank you, Pharrell. Thank you Steve.