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In my case, while I am certain that it has affected my life, I would not say it's anywhere near the level of PTSD.
Ultimately, if it came down to him or me, I'd put him in an institution. And he knows that. He wouldn't want to ruin me as a person, psychologically or financially.
I wish my mom had felt this way! She would not have wanted to ruin me, I am sure, but if it came down to her or me, she would want me to take care of her (no Assisted Living or hired help). Hence my guilt feelings that I know I could not have her live with me and keep my sanity. And so she lives in her home with my sibling whom she allowed in but never intended to be with for the remainder of her life.
Briolat, yours sounds like the best possible situation, and even that has affected your life. I hope I can be that way to my children when my time comes.
OMG that is the ONE THING that my dad, my mom, and I all agreed on - that my brother would NEVER come "live with them to help them out." Oh, and that I would never inherit the responsibility of his care. That is to say, I told them that in no uncertain terms and they agreed with me.
My mom's greatest fear after my dad died was that my brother would want to come live with her - and sure enough, he started dropping hints left and right. You never saw any old widow move so quickly to get into a one bedroom apartment. She even intentionally bought a LOVE SEAT rather than taking her full size sofa with her, so that he couldn't sleep on her sofa! (He's well over 6 ft tall - both my brothers are very tall, as is my mom.) I mean, she did all this, pushing me along to help her help her help her within just a few weeks of my dad's death, and that was a big relief because I was thinking to myself, "If he moves in with Mom, I'm moving out of state and washing my hands of this whole fiasco."
At least your mother was smart that way! Mine insisted on my sibling living with my parents, much against my father's wishes. Then when Dad died, she blamed Dad for allowing sibling in. Though I tried to help her, she would not change things after Dad died. I think she felt too guilty and worried about sibling. I really think she wanted to move in with me and have both of us take care of Sib. That wasn't going to happen, but I feel so sad that I could not be a different person and make her happy. At least for now she gets her wish of not going to Assisted Living, I guess.
In my case, while I am certain that it has affected my life, I would not say it's anywhere near the level of PTSD.
I realized many years ago, when making another Drs appointment (and missing work unpaid) for my mother and essentially having this bleak feeling of "this is all that will ever be - the rest of my life" and then coming home at noon thinking about tossing back a couple of shots (I'm essentially a non drinker) - that I couldn't let that be the case.
And so, I do what I can, and let go of the rest.
I'm not the best caregiver in the world. I pay attention to the big stuff, but miss little stuff (sorry State, pretty sure I'm over due on some taxes for our health aide, I'll be paying them (along with the penalty, which is 2x the amount I actually owe) shortly) ALL THE TIME.
And I don't care about it.
As long as Dad's still alive at the end of the day, I guess I haven't screwed up too badly.
Additionally, the pressure/responsibility - is one of the reasons I so often counsel people on this board NOT TO move their parents in, etc.. if they have any other options.
Because to be frank, I think most people don't handle it well. We see it on these boards, people at their last rope. People drinking a lot (more than one poster has mentioned they think they're beginning to go overboard), people yelling/screaming living in a constant state of battle.
There are things I don't mind sacrificing to my dad's care (mom's been gone for almost 5 years now). Vacations being chief among them. But I'm not going to sacrifice my sanity, or my ability to be a functioning person when this is all over. Ultimately, if it came down to him or me, I'd put him in an institution. And he knows that. He wouldn't want to ruin me as a person, psychologically or financially.
But, because our motto is 'good enough' - I can handle it. So, hopefully it never gets to the point that he has to leave. Because we do all right.
Not great.
(sorry about those taxes, I swear when I get home tonight or tomorrow.. or maybe this weekend....)
Not close to perfect.
But, every day the same # of people are alive at night as woke up that morning, well.. good enough.
I totally agree on not moving an elderly parent in if there are other options. And how I wish that ANY of my parents or inlaws had had the perspective your dad has. Instead, all four of them have firmly believed that 1) they were still independent, even though it took hours and hours each week of support from various family members, usually my husband and me, for them to be "independent" and 2) dadgummit, it just wasn't fair that they were disabled/sick/feeble and we weren't - how DARE we try to go on vacation or even just spend a few days on our own without having to spend hours on their care - just a little break - no way. They resented the hell out of our mobility, our energy, our health, our other interests, etc. It has been very distressing.
There is no way in Hades I would let my mother move in with us. I would literally rather live out of my car than live in the same house with her. It distresses me to observe the complete and total dysfunctional chaos she surrounds herself with. I do not understand it at all, and it's not simply dementia, because she has always been chaotic and disorganized and that's always driven me a little batty. Only now it is WAY worse - plus she smells bad. And she's even more rude and unreasonable than ever. Nope. Not moving into my house. EVAH. EVAH. EVAH.
For the sick, the old, and their caregivers it's all about one thing. Losing control of our lives. No longer being able to do anything we want to do. If we live long enough it will happen to all of us. And I think very few escape the caregiving experience without at least a degree of PTSD.
For the sick, the old, and their caregivers it's all about one thing. Losing control of our lives. No longer being able to do anything we want to do. If we live long enough it will happen to all of us. And I think very few escape the caregiving experience without at least a degree of PTSD.
I agree.
The thing I have a problem with is that the old people I've been taking care of didn't lose control of their lives with THEIR parents or inlaws. But it's fine with them for me to spend my "youthful older years" (fifties and sixties) taking care of them, and then it's my turn to get sick and need care. Meanwhile, without exception, they skated by with under a year of elder care - if that - in their lives. They took vacations, they built homes, they enjoyed the early years of their retirement, they enjoyed their financial security that they had built and/or inherited, through their fifties, sixties, and well into their seventies before they began to have their freedom curtailed. Not me. Not many of my friends either.
I think that must be because people are living longer with more serious ailments. So the Catch 22 is that when their kids are in their fifties or sixties - normally, well, I hate to say it but in former generations their parents would be deceased. But now they're not - but they're sick.
My parents and my inlaws both really enjoyed their retirement years from their early sixties to their mid seventies or late seventies. Fifteen years or so of good health, financial security, an active social life, far flung vacations, etc. Not only that, several of them had pensions (unheard of for most of us Baby Boomers). Social security was guaranteed to them (I've already gotten my letter from the SSA informing me to only expect 75 percent of my earned SS benefits).
It was all I could do to take three days to go to my class reunion a couple of years ago. Finally - well, I hate to say it but after my two inlaws passed away, and my parents seemed stable (not WELL but not in critical condition or anything), we took our first vacation in three years - we spent a week in Maine. It was fabulous, and I sure am glad we did that, because while we were gone, my dad went to the ONE doctor appt that I didn't accompany him on, and got a bad report on his platelet condition. To his credit, he did not share those results with me while we were on vacation, though I did call him to check on his appt, which he glossed over. A week after we got back, he had a massive stroke and within a few days, I was planning his funeral.
And inheriting my mom.
I don't even tell her anymore when we are going out of town for a few days because she will create a medical crisis and end up in the ER the night before I leave. And heaven forbid I plan an actual vacation that's more than a couple of hours away. Even if I didn't tell her, I'd probably end up fielding some sort of crisis while I was trying to enjoy myself.
Heck, I was simply enjoying the good day we had with my mom Sunday, thinking "How nice. What a nice day," and trying to spend a pleasant Monday with with my husband before he went out of town for two weeks on business...and I get a call from the meds administrator telling me, "Well, your mom is not being cooperative." GOOD LORD, MOM - CAN YOU PLEASE MAINTAIN A LEVEL OF CIVILITY FOR JUST A FEW FREAKING DAYS?????????? CAN I EVER FREAKING RELAX OR JUST ENJOY A BIT OF ENJOYMENT WITHOUT A FEELING OF IMPENDING DOOM????? This, I think is what causes the sense of PTSD.
I am so sick of thinking about all this. I want a mental break. I feel like I can't enjoy relaxation even when it unexpectedly comes my way, because God only knows what is brewing. It's never anything good or positive.
True story from very recently - as the regulars know, I was going to take my mom on a trip out of state, flying no less, for a week. (This did actually go down.) I had already spent hours over at her apartment trying to help her pick out what to bring for a week, in the midst of the total chaos that is in her apartment as well as in her head. So I got home, and began packing for both of us - had to wash all her clothes because they reek of whatever weird odor permeates her and her apartment. Anyway, others and me have mentioned an uptick in drinking due to stress. Well, I was already stressed out and we hadn't even left for the airport, so I poured myself a glass of wine to drink while I was packing both our suitcases. I was actually having a nice little evening - washing, packing, sipping on my quite full glass (but only one glass - LOL) of wine, listening to some music - and my brother called me, told me he couldn't reach Mom, I called her, she answered immediately in this (turns out was fake) slurred voice saying she had "hab a bab fall" and the next thing I knew I was leaving my glass of wine on the counter, and jumping into my car like a bat out of hell driving to her apartment - only to find that she was PERFECTLY FINE and pulling some sort of weird, stupid emotional mind game (the sort my dad told me she always pulled on him when he was leaving for, you know, a combat mission to Vietnam or something like that) and OMG... I just wanted to leave her so badly and just fly to Ohio all by myself!
Please, dear God, don't let me get like this when I'm old.
My controlling brother took over my parents' lives when they were in their 70's. He got a POA, was made executor of their will, and controlled all medical decisions in their lives.I was never consulted about anything. He was mad at me for something or other and would not speak to me. He emptied my parent's large apartment, sold everything in it, without consulting me. I never had the opportunity to keep any of my parent's and grandparent's things. He moved my father to his city 600 miles away and didn't tell me. It was all so horrible.
After keeping my father in his house for a few months, he put Dad in an assisted living facility. He didn't bother to tell me where my father was. At the time I was very worried/concerned but in hindsight, I think he did me a huge favor. I had to let it go because I had no other choice. My brother had all the control but with that, all responsibility was on him.
I'm sure it comes as no surprise to anyone here, my brother ended up blaming me for everything miserable that ever happened to him, including care of my parents. He refused to execute/probate my parents' Wills and trusts for my children for years. We were asking for nothing other than what the Wills stated. He wouldn't do it. My kids were in college and needed the money. He told my kids to talk to his lawyers. It was horrible. We finally had to hire attorneys, in my brother's city, to go to court to force him to do what the Wills, and the law, dictated. No one, including the lawyers, could understand why he wouldn't just execute the Wills. But I knew. It was the last bit of control he could exercise over my life and my children's lives. After several years a court date was set. We knew we would win because we weren't asking for anything other than what the law said my brother had to do. A few days before the court hearing he finally caved and agreed to execute the Wills and give my children the money in their trusts. He jerked me around as long as he possibly could but knew he had no defense in court. I was so relieved that I didn't have to face him in court! He hasn't spoken to me since, 12 years and it's been a blissful time in our lives! My parents spent decades jerking me around and he was happy to pick up where they left off. It's wonderful to have all of that crap over with.
On the other hand, we were caretakers for my in-laws for the last 15 years of their lives. They lived in a different city and it was no box of chocolates, but they were kind people who we were happy to help. They wanted to remain in their own home so we made that happen with round the clock help. It was their money and we tried very hard to spend it as they wanted. Of course that didn't prevent out-of-town relatives, who never did a thing, from criticizing us for silly things, like we didn't take my MIL often enough to the salon for a perm. Oh, and we also had the same responsibility for my husband's aunt and uncle who had no children of their own. (At the time we had two small children at home and all these folks lived 90 miles away). We were constantly criticized for that too, we didn't have the lawn mowed often enough at the Aunt's house! Eventually, we learned to ignore all those who did nothing but were so quick to criticize us. It comes with the territory.
I swear, all this makes me want to build a pool and a wine cellar, and turn my phone completely off for a solid month.
I vote for the pool and wine cellar. When we were dealing with Spousal Unit's mother, that pool and wine cellar were what kept us sane. Not that we drank all that much, but it was nice knowing an occasional glass of wine while floating in the pool was possible.
I wish I had access to my pool now. Instead, I just pack another box, then come to the Caregiving forum and thank goodness that I don't begin to have things near as bad as some of y'all do.
Unlike many of your folks, Mom was responsible for the care of her Mom, her MIL, two aunts, and an uncle at various times. By the time the last one died, Mom was so exhausted that all she did was sleep for a week.
But she never cleaned out all the stuff she inherited, which is what we are having to do now, before we move her to Independent Living closer to both her daughters. An entire barn full that we've not even opened yet, a garden shed (I peeked inside, then closed the door), and all the stuff we've been unboxing inside the house.
Lots of storage is a good idea, but when it results in boxes and boxes of who knows what, dang...
I vote for the pool and wine cellar. When we were dealing with Spousal Unit's mother, that pool and wine cellar were what kept us sane. Not that we drank all that much, but it was nice knowing an occasional glass of wine while floating in the pool was possible.
I wish I had access to my pool now. Instead, I just pack another box, then come to the Caregiving forum and thank goodness that I don't begin to have things near as bad as some of y'all do.
Unlike many of your folks, Mom was responsible for the care of her Mom, her MIL, two aunts, and an uncle at various times. By the time the last one died, Mom was so exhausted that all she did was sleep for a week.
But she never cleaned out all the stuff she inherited, which is what we are having to do now, before we move her to Independent Living closer to both her daughters. An entire barn full that we've not even opened yet, a garden shed (I peeked inside, then closed the door), and all the stuff we've been unboxing inside the house.
Lots of storage is a good idea, but when it results in boxes and boxes of who knows what, dang...
Here's what I have cleaned out already:
My parents' entire 2200 square foot house and storage building. My dad was a very neat and organized hoarder. That place was PACKED.
Here's what I still have to go through and clean out - in the next 60 days:
2 houses - both about 2000 square feet, both pretty full of furniture and personal items
A huge barn
Another huge barn
A medium sized barn
Four storage buildings
Included in this mess are about four junked automobiles.
Sheeze! WHY did my parents own all this stuff? WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY?
Your thoughts and suggestions? Can you as a caregiver relate to the concept of PTSD being a possibility? Suggestions on how to assimilate the ongoing needs of others into our lives without losing our own identities?
Nope! Can't relate. I was my wife's caregiver because she needed one and as her husband it was up to me to provide that service. It was my "job" and I was glad to be able to perform it because I loved her.
Yes, over the course of a number of years it took its tole on me but that didn't matter. What mattered was meeting her needs as best I could and loving her enough to do so.
As for suggestions, I have none. We all approach it and react differently. I think a lot depends on our capacity for love and dedication.
My "burden" is now lifted by her death but I would give anything to have it, and her, back.
Nope! Can't relate. I was my wife's caregiver because she needed one and as her husband it was up to me to provide that service. It was my "job" and I was glad to be able to perform it because I loved her.
Yes, over the course of a number of years it took its tole on me but that didn't matter. What mattered was meeting her needs as best I could and loving her enough to do so.
As for suggestions, I have none. We all approach it and react differently. I think a lot depends on our capacity for love and dedication.
My "burden" is now lifted by her death but I would give anything to have it, and her, back.
Thanks for your perspective.
This was your wife, not your dysfunctional parent or sibling, just to point out one pertinent difference between your scenario and that of many of the posters here (myself included).
The only issue I have with your post is that you suggest that the capacity for love and dedication is what makes a huge difference in our responses and our abilities. In other words, if we had more love and more ability to be dedicated, we wouldn't be so stressed out. We would be happy to perform these duties because we love the people we are taking care of. This implies that we are unhappy because of some flaw in our ability to serve, to do our "job," to do what's required of us - supposedly.
There are many scenarios involving totally uncooperative, unappreciative, and even deceitful parents and siblings who want other people to help them, but they don't see the need to be cooperative - or even nice - themselves to the very people who are trying to help them - who WANT to help them, who have the capacity for love and dedication but become very fatigued and stressed when that love and dedication is abused intentionally.
I made a vow to my husband, who I chose of my own free will to marry, for better or for worse. Yes, if he gets sick and needs years of caregiving, it is my "job" to give him that care - in a loving, dedicated manner. He would do the same for me - we chose willingly to enter into this partnership.
Not to put too fine a point on it, but I didn't choose my parents. And I didn't make a vow before God to stick with them in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, till death parted us. That's just the simple truth. And frankly, my mother was not and is not a very good mother. She's not even a very nice person. That's the sad truth. I do not feel that I have any sort of moral obligation to put up with her bad behaviors, her rudeness, her deceitfulness, her lack of the most basic cooperation, and not only that, those behaviors stress me out - as they would ANYONE who had to navigate those behaviors while trying to safeguard and nurture someone. And I do feel that I have a moral obligation, because I made a promise to my dad, to protect my mother and her health to the best of my ability. This does not mean that I have to put up with negative behaviors, and it does not mean that my love and dedication to my mother somehow shield me from feeling extremely frustrated and hurt by her incessant terrible behaviors toward me.
I'm sorry you miss your wife - I really am. Apparently you two were very lucky to have each other. I wish I'd drawn a better Mom card, but I didn't. Que sera, sera. At least I do have a very loving husband. Better late than never.
I wish everyone had a loving a relationship with the person or people they feel obligated to take care of - it sure would make things easier for everyone.
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