My brother and I were just talking about our Dad the other day. He's starting to show early signs of demetia such as being forgetful, repeating himself and being a bit unreasonable about little things.

I'm not sure how we'll handle it if he progresses while he's still fit and healthy physically as he is now. He has his wife, but I suspect she'll leave him if he goes downhill too fast. Nothing against her, but she just wouldn't be able to cope that's all. I think there's a good chance we might move up to the farm and care for him there. Particularly if Dazza can develop his business enough that he can run it from home. It's a big conundrom for us all though. There's no way we'd be able to get Dad to stay put in a home or anything like that. It just would not happen. He needs the outdoors.

I really empathise with those of you caring for your parents now. It's a really hard job and it seems to bring nothing but heartache all the way around. All I can say is, they're lucky to have such wonderful sons and daughters as you.

Having just ripped a physician's head off and shit down his neck for having placed my mother on Haldol (it's even worse for elderly, diabetic women in heart failure, kidney failure, and with a history of deep vein thrombosis, among other things) ... you might try to have a quiet talk with your mother's doctor about extremely low doses of Risperdal (risperidone) 0.125 mg two or three times per day is the dose they put my mom on and it appears to have helped.

Oh Wolf! Thank you THANK YOU :notworthy . I'mma gonna chat with the doc today anyway. Why is it that they don't seem to know their own business?

This is where I'm at today. After an emotional rollercoaster week of "yes she can move soon"/"no we need you to jump through more and ever higher hoops first" my mum is moving to the care home on Monday. Initially to a shared room: she'd prefer her own room, but a shared room in this home is far FAR preferable to the hospital ward she's on now.
So now I'm making a list of the things I must collect from my mum's house to take to the home. And wondering how I'll have the nerve to sell or give away the bulk of my mum's possessions. I don't have the room to store them, and I don't really feel I have the right to get rid of them. And no, I can't ask her about it because most of the time she lives in a delusional world where terrorist attacks have happened and/or will happen later. When I have a conversation with her I'd rather it was more pleasant than "I'm getting rid of your stuff. How'd you want me to do it".
I never thought I'd be delighted at the idea that my mum is moving to a care home, but I am, along with being appalled and heartbroken in equal measure.

Yes, that's a tough transition. The problem with most care facilities is they don't have room for personal "stuff", beyond daily necessities like clothes and toiletries. Kind of a stark/sterile environment. :(

Not too stark, actually ... the building used to be a hotel (built around the turn of the 19/20th centuries, I think) and the rooms are all a little quirky. In fact, when I first started visiting this island it still was a hotel and many a merry night and happy Hogmanay celebration did I have in the bar!
It's not ideal that she'll be sharing a room as that means there's less room for her stuff, but all the same I think I'll be able to install, for her, her 1920s bedside cabinet, a bookshelf with a representative selection of books (not that I'm expecting my mum to read them, but books are most definitely a comfort blanket in our family), a dozen ornaments and a couple of pictures.
The layout is OK, there's what could turn into quite a cosy private TV corner for my mum, if she'd rather be on her own (it's what she's used to), in spite of sharing.
At least it won't be a 3 hour trip each way to visit her any more ...

Oh, they know it, it's just that Haldol's a lot cheaper.

Well, there's one good thing about having both your parents die by the time you're 40. I miss them terribly, but at the same time, I'm grateful that this particular role-reversal thing is over for me.

Still have my husband's dad, but at least he's got a sister to help . . . in theory. In reality, she won't be much help at all. He's 78 and just this year been starting to show signs of impending doom.

You couldn't make it up.
So last Monday my mum is moved to the local nursing home - a mere 20 minutes drive each way instead of leave home at 10am and return at 8pm to visit her. Oh bliss!
On Thursday the home has an outbreak of norovirus and quarantines itself. She's never lived nearer and I can't fncking visit at ALL.
And from no privacy at all in the hospital, she's been confined (as have all the residents) to her room, from which the room mate was moved out due to my mum's very restless nights.
I bought a postcard at the start of this whole sorry episode - "This would be funny if it wasn't happening to me" [and my mum].
:(

Here lately things have been pretty hectic. My mom has to get a monthly injection in her eyeball so, according to the retina specialist, she needs to prevent her from going totally blind. My mom wholeheartedly support this doctor in this endeavor (along with a slew of other old people).

Anyway, she had a reaction to the shot this last time and she temporarily lost her sight for a few days - minor to the pain she was having. Anyway, prior to the injection she was already having some problem with that eye and we expressed our concern about it. The doctor assures us there shouldn't be a problem so my mom receives the injection. Everything goes well until that evening when the pain meds wear off then everything goes to hell. Severe light sensitivity, total blindness in that eye, and pain - lots of it. Can't even get ahold of the doctor. To make matters worse, she can't get hold of me because the construction behind my house knocked out my telephone and my cell phone went on the blink. Luckily, for her, she had some people on speed dial and they came to the rescue.

By the next evening the pain was gone, the light sensitivity had subsided to a bearable limit and she was getting back just a little bit of vision.

I got her an appointment with the retina doc on Monday and we went in to see her. Then she set us up with a battery of tests. So for the past two weeks I have been taking her to various doctor appointments, labs and xrays to try and determine why she had this reaction.

What doesn't make sense is we had originally expressed our concern over the injection because of the existing condition she was having at that time. So when we asked the doctor about it again she stuck to her guns and decided my mom had some unknown infection that caused this to happen. Okay... if so, what's the difference? There was an existing condition.

It all comes out after further questions... she can no longer take the old injection because her body had a reaction to it. The "new" injection will cost $2k per.

So, my sister calls me up and proceeds to chew me out because I wasn't available and insists she would have been there to take care of her needs. I'm like... "okay, not a problem here. I can fly mom first class and pay y'all's first months deposit on your new two-bedroom apartment. I'll even throw in a case of Campbells Soup. All you need to do is take the 60-80 hours off work each year for various emergencies and medical appointments. Think you can do that? I'll have her there in a couple of weeks. But hey, I gotta go right now 'cause I gotta bring mom to the docs and have that chest xray, so give me a call later. Love ya, bye."

Funny how the tune changes.

Frustrating at times, but old people can't help they get old.

Why don't they ever listen? momwolf is essentially cognitively intact, but that doesn't make her sensible in any significant sense of the word.

wolf: momwolf, you really need to keep more physically active, because that will keep the fluid from building up in your legs from the poor circulation ...

momwolf: that's not what causes it. You're just being mean.

wolf: momwolf, you can't use the heating pad. It looks like you have a burn blister there on your leg.

momwolf: That's a bruise.

wolf: No, that's a blister. You can see it.

momwolf: Stop contradicting me!

That is such a good description of my mum, too, wolf (at least when I last saw her a week ago :( ). She still plans to:
live on her own
have her two dogs move in to the nursing home
knows the names etc of friends of friends referred to in correspondence I read her
but didn't see that my having moved some of her belongings in to the home had a ... significance ...

Pete stopped in to see Dad this morning and was on the receiving end of a completely crazy political rant about our need to start nuking Afghanistan, Pakistan, and "that other country over there." He's reading Tom Clancy and completely missing the bit about his books being fiction. JFC!

Have you ever handled your Grandad's cock & balls?
I have.

I'm sure this will seem tame to people looking after their parents, and anyone with kids. But I didn't have kids for plenty of very good reasons!

Anyway.
So.

Mum & Dad are away house-sitting. Grandad has diarrhoea.
I've been over 5 times today.
Cleaning. Washing, drying & ironing (Mum irons his pyjamas and underwear). And I've showered him twice.

I'm not trying to make out I am a saint. What would I rather do, shower my Grandad or have him sit in shitty pants all day? It is tough though. Lifting his cock and balls out of the way so I can sponge all the shit off.

Sorry. That sounds vulgar.
But I was there in his very hot bungalow, sweat running down my nose, picking up soiled towels and underwear and just wanting to say, "No! I didn't sign up for this!" but of course I did. This is part of being family. And you don't look disgusted and you don't resent it and you hold your breath because this is Mum's Dad and she loves him as much as I love my Dad.

Massive kudos to those who handle this on a more regular basis.
This has been going on since Friday. Mum comes home on Monday.
I just hope I don't let him down too much in the mean time.

Oh SG, hugs to you, and big kudos, big time kudos!
Make sure he drinks plenty (tea, squash, anything at all, but lots of it).
Make sure you wash you hands every time you touch Grandpa - or you'll get it too. There's lots of winter vomiting virus about at the moment (don't ask me how I know, you KNOW how I know!).
I've done this job (as employment) but it's especially tough when it's your own relative.
Hugs, dear. Hugs [slinks off to wash her hands!].