lisaann1170
Distinguished member
- Joined
- Jun 9, 2009
- Messages
- 106
- Reason
- Loved one DX
- Country
- US
- State
- WI
- City
- Milwaukee
As soon as Dad was diagnosed, Mom told me she couldn't handle all of the medical and financial stuff. I get that. Dad was always the family manager so for her to deal with his illness plus learn all of the new medical "stuff" and take over their finances is overwhelming. So, they moved near me. I know PALS moving after diagnosis is not usually the answer, but it was for us. Dad is happy with the choice and I've been able to take over when Mom was unable to handle whatever came along.
Dad had been living at home until this past Friday, and Mom was his primary caretaker. My job is to coordinate medical care and to manage her finances. Dad's primary care physician and the nurse who visited weekly determined that Dad's care is too much for Mom. She's arthritic, has back problems, and is generally not in the best physical condition to care for Dad. So, Dad was admitted to the VA hospital. He doesn't want to be here, so Mom doesn't want him to be here. She's had some in-home assistance provided by the VA, but she really needs someone else there 24/7. The doctors are hesitant to release him back to her. I think it would be very unwise without full-time care in place. This makes me the "bad guy" in this triad (me, Mom, Dad - no other siblings).
I'm the go-to person when the doctors have a question. I'm overwhelmed. I really want what's best for Dad both emtionally and medically, but it's a tough decision. Mom doesn't want to make those choices. I fear making the wrong choices. I feel guilty whenDad's unhappy, thinking I should do more.
There's talk of hospice. I hear about nursing home placement. I have a call in to the ALS Association for advice on home care. I'm waiting on calls from Dad's neurologist and the social worker.
From a purely selfish point of view, I work full time, I have a 5-year old, and I'm in graduate school. I'm having some trouble keeping the balls in the air but I really want to do what's best for Dad. It's getting so hard to see what is best.
Dad's breathing is increasingly more labored and the morphine flows more freely these days. His decline has been so profound in recent weeks that it breaks my heart.
Anyway, that's my train of thought as I sit here and watch Dad sleep. This is really, really hard. And, just when I think it can't get harder, it does somehow.
Dad had been living at home until this past Friday, and Mom was his primary caretaker. My job is to coordinate medical care and to manage her finances. Dad's primary care physician and the nurse who visited weekly determined that Dad's care is too much for Mom. She's arthritic, has back problems, and is generally not in the best physical condition to care for Dad. So, Dad was admitted to the VA hospital. He doesn't want to be here, so Mom doesn't want him to be here. She's had some in-home assistance provided by the VA, but she really needs someone else there 24/7. The doctors are hesitant to release him back to her. I think it would be very unwise without full-time care in place. This makes me the "bad guy" in this triad (me, Mom, Dad - no other siblings).
I'm the go-to person when the doctors have a question. I'm overwhelmed. I really want what's best for Dad both emtionally and medically, but it's a tough decision. Mom doesn't want to make those choices. I fear making the wrong choices. I feel guilty whenDad's unhappy, thinking I should do more.
There's talk of hospice. I hear about nursing home placement. I have a call in to the ALS Association for advice on home care. I'm waiting on calls from Dad's neurologist and the social worker.
From a purely selfish point of view, I work full time, I have a 5-year old, and I'm in graduate school. I'm having some trouble keeping the balls in the air but I really want to do what's best for Dad. It's getting so hard to see what is best.
Dad's breathing is increasingly more labored and the morphine flows more freely these days. His decline has been so profound in recent weeks that it breaks my heart.
Anyway, that's my train of thought as I sit here and watch Dad sleep. This is really, really hard. And, just when I think it can't get harder, it does somehow.