It’s been a few years since I’ve written. In a nutshell, my dad moved to Los Angeles 4 years ago, my husband and I lived with him for only a few months before it became unbearable for all of us, and this resulted in us moving out at my father’s request (or rather, demand), and finding a place of our own. The silver lining is that I got my life back, and my father found a new sense of freedom.
About a year later, my father decided that he didn’t like his senior condo anymore and wanted a house. So walking home from church one day, he stopped at an open house, met a VERY lovely realtor who agreed to help him find the perfect house. My dad has REALLY GOOD TASTE in finding the right help. Because this realtor started to see where my father’s weaknesses were, and really bent over backwards to make sure he was taken care of through this entire house buying process. Make a long story short, my father sold his condo and bought a cute 2-bedroom house with a gorgeous backyard.
Things seemed routine-like for the months to come… I’ve often lost my patience with him when I’d visit him, bring him groceries, help him pay his bills or do several other errands for him, only to be met with: “You are nothing, what kind of daughter are you?… etc.” Other times when I would visit, he would tell me that he loves me. So it’s pretty much been hit or miss with his moods.
Then the inevitable happened. He was coming home late at night one evening (I still wonder why he was out so late), and he tripped over the curb, fell on his face and was rushed to the ER. I got that dreaded phone call at 11:30pm. He received a few stitches on his mouth, and through an MRI, it was discovered that his fall caused an acute bleeding in his brain. He ended up in the hospital for about one week, and then was transferred to a rehab center, and eventually was sent home with the instructions that he needed home care.
Which brings us to the present day…. I have a caregiver coming to his house 8 hours per day. He’s managed to dislike the caregiver. That’s about right since he’s managed to dislike every single living soul that’s ever cared for him in my lifetime, including me and my husband.
And what I’m faced with currently is figuring out how to get him financial help for his medical care without anyone going after his assets, while constantly being told by him that I’m a bad daughter. Occasionally, I’ll be told that I’m a good daughter. And whereas I thought the last few years of dealing with him was bad enough, having to now face the responsibility of protecting him and his assets in the light of being constantly told that I’m a bad daughter, AND still trying to maintain some sort of LIFE outside of doing all of this, has been quite the challenge. I’m looking for the silver lining in all of this, and haven’t quite discovered it yet.
Adventures with my Elderly Father 