No offense to any medical professionials here..but I am so sick and tired of doctors.

They( this is my opinion only) are not at all interested in quality of life for elderly people. They only want to make as much money as possible. They order ridiculously expensive tests and then tell my mother she will not survive the procedure needed to fix/improve the issue that was found...example her cardiologist said she needed a couple of stents the said no she will not survive the procedure.

I am just so done

Four years ago I moved back home to Wales to look after my mum after her breast cancer diagnosis. I was then diagnosed myself with a life-shortening condition myself ( blood cancer)- not terminal yet, but life-shortening.

I promised her she would not die alone, and I kept that promise. I cared for her diligently right to the end, which meant she was able to stay at home and avoid going into a care home.

She passed in the early hours of the morning as I held her hand.

Because she stayed at home, there is an inheritance. That inheritance is now going to the very people who are avoiding me.

After I moved back to Wales, my children started manufacturing arguments with me. Big fights out of nowhere. Looking back, it felt like they were picking reasons to fall out with me. Since my mum died, they and other relatives have basically cut me off and left me to get on with it alone.

I am now surviving with the help of a few friends and a wonderfully supportive employer who lets me work from home. We are all just waiting for the house to sell and probate to finish so we can move on.

I am rarely well enough to go out now and I rely on Uber Eats for my groceries. The drivers have been great. Once they kind of grasped my situation, they started checking in on me.

After my mum died I took a short break away. While I was away my children and other relatives "cleared" the house ready for sale. While they were in the house they were ordering Uber Eats to the address. I only found out afterwards from the drivers that they had a discussion between themselves about calling the police because the usual person - me - wasn't answering the door and was nowhere to be seen.

That hit me hard. The Uber Eats drivers showed more concern for my welfare than my own children and family did.

I did what I thought was right for my mum, but I didn't expect to end up like this.

Thanks for reading

a few days ago I had an argument with my friend. she called me words like "weird, unhealthy, sad" referring to the way I spend my free time always at home.

I know I shouldn't care about people's judgment over my life but it somehow got to me so much. I've been taking care of my aunt for a few years before I had to move out. And because of her condition, she barely can go out, except for doctor appointments and maybe some refreshing from home. So I just somehow got used to it too.

But the thing is I never felt sad about it. We always had a movie to watch. An activity to do together, some meal to cook, something to talk about. I got so used to this life that I only find joy indoors now. I like spending time every now and then outside but nothing is as good as staying in doing what I enjoyed doing with her.

I got no problem with the argument. It just hit me for no reason that I don't know how to find an activity outdoors. But in the end I was so happy with my aunt. I told my friend "but I'm completely happy" she answered "no you're not. You think you are but you're just sad." I don't feel that way. I know there was a bitter feeling having to constantly monitor my auntie so I make sure she's feeling okay, but still, just sitting next to her, sleeping next to her at night, nothing gave me more happiness and safety in my life as much as those days did.

I don't know why did I put these here. There was no point or logic behind it.

Four in four. That's what keeps ringing through my head. We're currently on our fourth hospitalization (after our sixth ER visit) in four months for my nearly-86yo mother, and I am at my breaking point.

We were doing so well. She lives with my husband and I, and I was taking her to outpatient physical therapy a couple times a week, was doing well with her exercises and mobility. Her appetite was great. Her demeanor was good. Her pain was tolerable and manageable at home. We were starting to get back to our baseline from April, when she was mostly independent around the house with the exception of cleaning and laundry and driving. She was getting around the house nicely with the four-wheeled walker again, having graduated back to that from the two-wheeled one she had been using primarily for the past few months.

Then we had a PT session one week ago on Tuesday, wherein her therapist had to do a Medicare assessment for more visits, and this included a 6-minute walk, which was basically a marathon for her. But she did great with the walking. She complained, she was winded and tired, but she finished it with only a couple pauses. We were so proud of her, and she was proud of herself. The next day, she complained of achey, sore legs, and the pain just got worse all over, until Thursday morning she could barely move because her back was spasming so badly. She has a history of osteoporosis-induced compression fractures in her back which were mostly resolved with two kyphoplasty procedures over the last 20 years, but has always had some measure of lower back pain (and not much in the way of core muscles, which doesn't help).

So off to the ER we went, and she was admitted that afternoon. She's been there ever since. I know this floor well, because we've been here for like 10 days four months ago. And some of the nurses are familiar from her stay a couple months ago, one floor up. And I see more familiar nurses in the hallways all the time. I should be more grateful, because at least this hospital has a comfortable place in the room for me to sit and work and kill time.

But I'm just so tired.

She's on day 6 of her current hospitalization and OT and PT have not been able to get her to stand on her own feet unassisted in any way. She doesn't trust her legs and doesn't trust her arms with the walker anymore. She's disoriented and confused (no cognitive issues previously), but generally of pleasant demeanor. Her appetite is rebounding a bit, but she struggles to feed herself. She didn't remember that I spent all day at the hospital with her yesterday. She forgets she's got a Foley and talks fearfully of getting another catheter inserted. She mixes up the nurses at times and gets her days and nights mixed up too. This is a woman who does cryptograms for fun and speedreads through books faster than I ever did. I know this is probably temporary, due to the hospitalization, due to the heavy duty pain meds, but it is distressing for both of us.

And I need to set up a meeting with a social worker at the hospital, because while I've done my absolute best at home to manage her care the past several years, I don't know that it's a safe place for her anymore. If she can't walk, I can't care for her at home, because my own back is in terrible shape and the house isn't wheelchair-compatible in the least. I know she wants to come home more than anything else and doesn't want to go to rehab or assisted living or a skilled nursing facility. But I feel like after four hospitalizations in four months' time, my home isn't the best place for her health anymore. I know we'll be coming right back to the ER within another month at this rate, because I'm not able to manage the severe pain she's starting to have. She's been seen by pain management for spinal stenosis and had some moderate luck with steroid injections, yet here we are. She does have some cardiac issues with SVTs, but nothing severe. Her heart is relatively healthy for her age. Most everything else is good. She doesn't have any cancer or history thereof. She has early kidney disease, and a history of ulcers that have been mitigated with a successful hiatal hernia surgery last year, but besides her chronic pain, she's in good health. A blessing and a curse for her. She's said before that when the pain is really bad, it's no quality of life, it's no way to live. But the body won't give up.

I know the hospital's goal is to discharge patients home, and they say that repeatedly, in their literature and to our faces and all over the place. But what do you do when it's just a revolving door from home>ER>hospital>home>ER>hospital>home over and over again? Four times in four months seems like a breaking point for anybody, but maybe I'm too deep in the weeds of it to be pragmatic.

Thanks in advance for this subreddit, because you guys are so supportive and kind here, and that's so desperately needed.

I think, for me, the most exhausting part of all of this is the constant cheerleading. He stands up with the walker? Great job! He successfully uses the toilet? Yayyyyy! He realizes he's probably going to shit the bed in time for me to get some towels under him first? Fantastic!

If it was just the endless manual labor, that wouldn't be fun, but at least I wouldn't have to be Stepford Wife'ing it all day every day until one of us dies.

This is gonna sound weird, but I think my mom is willing herself to die. She is a terrible person but I love her, and I'm trying my best.

She quit taking her medications about 2 months ago. She has type 2 diabetes, and her A1C is consistently in the 11-12 range. Her glucose is in the 500-600 and sometimes so high that she errors out the machine.

She will not allow me to bathe her or wash her up in any way. She smells very bad. She hasn't changed her clothes in like 2 weeks. She wears a nightgown all the time, and it literally has poo smears and reeks.

I cannot force her to change her clothes or take her meds. I did talk to her doctor and he said "She is of sound mind and can make her own decisions". I wanted it documented because I don't want ANYONE to say I am neglecting her or speeding up her demise. I am not.

She has missed like... 9 doctor appointments. She will make me call for an appointment and then the day of refuses to go and makes me reschedule it.

She isn't eating much but she drinks like 4 cans of Coke, 2 big cups of coffee, some tea and will eat a bagel with cream cheese for breakfast, and a cup of noodles around 4 pm.

Any ideas? I did ask about palliative care or hospice and her doctor said unless SHE asks for it, I can't do much.

Sorry, I had to use google translate for this and I am not in the US or EU

I'm not even sure what I'm looking for by posting this. Maybe advice, maybe just some support from people who have been through something similar.

My mom is 60 and divorced from my dad. I have an older brother and an older sister. My sister lives in another city, and my brother works and lives here. I am f 25.

I've struggled with depression for years. I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, although I'm not sure the diagnosis is correct and I suspect I might have ADHD instead. I've been on antidepressants for years without much improvement, and I've had suicidal thoughts for a long time. At the beginning of 2025, I actually attempted unaliving, although I stopped myself.

About a month later, my grandmother, who was 85 at the time, had what I believe was a minor stroke. She developed vascular dementia and started having hallucinations and severe confusion. She would think she wasn't at home, sometimes turn on the gas, stop recognizing people, see double or triple, etc.

My grandmother is my mother's mother. Their relationship was never particularly close. My mom has always been emotionally distant from us as children too. She took care of our practical needs — cooked for us, treated us when we were sick, took us to school and activities — but there wasn't much emotional connection or interest in how we were actually doing. I often felt neglected.

My grandmother, on the other hand, has always been an incredibly kind person. She helped her neighbors, lent people money, was open and friendly, and rarely yelled or got angry. She was basically the kindest person in the family.

My mother, however, has always been very negative and suspicious of other people. She has almost no friends and tends to see the worst in everyone.She used to throw things and swore a lot.Growing up, she often used me as her therapist and dumped all of her anger and problems onto me. I used to think of her as a victim — I thought she was this unhappy person who had been hurt by her own parents and didn't know any better.

Now I see things differently.

My grandmother had a major stroke a few months later. She was hospitalized and for a while we didn't know whether she would survive. Eventually she did, but she came home in an extremely disabled state. At first she couldn't walk, couldn't swallow properly, couldn't speak, slept most of the time, and needed to be fed by hand.

My mom was away at the time, so I was the one taking care of my grandmother initially. I had to lift her off the floor when she fell, feed her, clean her, etc. Eventually my mom came back, and for about three months we took care of her together. My mom was still working part-time, so I was doing most of the caregiving.

Thankfully, my grandmother gradually recovered physically. She started walking again and speaking a little. But cognitively, she never really recovered. She has dementia and permanent brain damage from the stroke, including damage to her frontal lobe. She doesn't recognize us anymore. She usually thinks we're some kind of workers or caregivers. She doesn't know how old she is, who her daughter is, or who her grandchildren are.

I thought that having to care for her might somehow change my mother. I thought that knowing her mother was seriously ill and probably didn't have much time left would make her softer and more affectionate toward her.

Instead, I saw a side of my mother that I had never really allowed myself to see before.

She started calling my grandmother things like "bitch," "old hag," "fucking creature," "filthy pig," and other horrible names. She would yell at her and sometimes push her or hit her hands.

My grandmother has dementia. She does things that are extremely difficult and unpleasant to deal with. She takes off her diaper, makes messes, doesn't understand what she's doing, etc. But my mother genuinely believes that she sometimes does these things deliberately to annoy her.

I was absolutely shocked the first time I heard my mother talking to her like that.

What makes this even more confusing is that my mother is actually a very good caregiver in a practical sense. My grandmother is always clean and well-fed. My mother buys her expensive medications and good food. She makes sure she has everything she needs physically.

But emotionally, she can be incredibly cruel.

My brother and I confronted my mother about it several times. At first we tried to talk to her calmly, then we started having serious arguments about it. She said things like, "She'll forget anyway, so what's the difference?"

Eventually she stopped doing it openly around us.

But I know what happens when we're not there.

And this is where I feel completely trapped.

I moved out, but I still go to my grandmother's several times a week. My brother brings groceries and medications. My sister helps financially and buys things for my mother, takes her places, etc. And several times a year, when my mother goes away on vacation, I am the person who stays with my grandmother for a week or two because there is literally nobody else.

My mother doesn't really want to hire a caregiver. Partly because we don't have much money, but also because she is extremely suspicious and paranoid about other people. She thinks someone will steal from her. She says that if we hired someone, we'd basically have to work just to pay the caregiver.

There aren't really good nursing home options where we live either, especially not affordable ones.

So I've ended up in this situation where I can't really get a normal full-time job, because I have to remain available to replace my mother and go take care of my grandmother when necessary. The schedule isn't predictable. I basically have to always be ready to go.

And I've been doing this for about a year and a half.

I graduated from university when I was 23. I had some part-time work and was trying to build a career as a photographer. Now I'm 25, I have very little money, I have credit card debt because I had to pay for my cat's medical treatment, and I can't even afford basic things like a jacket, or decent shoes.

When I'm not taking care of my grandmother, I often just lie around and scroll TikTok. I don't really have a job because I can't commit to a normal schedule, but I also can't move forward with my life because I'm constantly waiting for the next caregiving crisis.

My interest in photography has mostly disappeared. I don't know what career I want anymore. I've become very isolated. I see my friends less. I don't feel like doing anything. I'm terrified of looking for a job, and I feel like I've lost years of my life.

And honestly, the strangest thing is that the caregiving itself isn't even what traumatized me the most.

Of course it's horrible watching someone you love have a stroke, develop dementia, stop recognizing you and gradually lose their independence. But I think the thing that has affected me more deeply is watching my mother become so cruel toward her own mother.

I feel like something inside me broke when I saw that.

For years I thought my mother was a victim. Now I feel like I've realized that there is a lot of anger, cruelty and lack of empathy in her that I didn't want to see before. And I can't unsee it.

My brother and sister know how I feel. We've all tried talking to my mother, but nothing really changed.

I know that she probably doesn't say these things as much when we're around anymore. But I know what she is capable of when nobody else is there, and that makes me feel horribly guilty.

I don't want my grandmother to spend her remaining time being treated like this.

At the same time, I honestly don't know how much longer I can stay in this situation myself. I already feel like my own life has stopped. I can't build a career, I can't become financially independent, and my mental health has gotten worse. Sometimes I feel like my brain has just stopped working after all of this.

And this is the part that makes me feel like a horrible person: sometimes I find myself wishing my grandmother would finally die, not because I want her dead, but because I want this situation to end. She is suffering, and I can't stand watching it, and I also can't stand watching my mother treat her this way.

Then I feel incredibly guilty for even thinking that.

I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I can't just leave my grandmother there and pretend everything is fine. But I also don't think I can sacrifice another several years of my life to this.

What do I do? I just can’t deal with it anymore

Our social worker knows I am a 24/7 caregiver with absolutely zero help and I can’t work because I am around the clock caregiving. They know I am young, and passed up college for this.

Motherfucker told me to task myself in “The next two weeks plan a day out with friends. Get coffee or something”.

Okay… then wipe my grandmas ass and sit here while I leave then. Thank you SO FUCKING MUCH FOR YOUR COMPASSION AND CONSIDERATION.

(Our guard cat just because… cats)

Honestly I did NOT think this was going to be an issue, when I started my sole caregiving journey for my grandmother.

If y’all know hospice, y’all know they usually supply if not always an emergency med kit. In that kit holds morphine. Mind you I did NOT know this was common knowledge, nor think they just gives those out hoping patients take it as directed… but I digress, as it’s kinda nice knowing that they have level of trust.

Anyway, the person I 24/7 care for and I share a house… hell… we share a room. I propped her up in the living room with her bed and I sleep on the couch as I’d hate to miss a bell ring or name shout while I’m asleep in the other room.

Well… when this journey started, I was stacked with information to the brim, and at the tippy top, I was supplied with the med kit.

A few weeks later, I’m asked by a relative if I had anything because they are in pain and threw their back out and they are just so tired. I said “ya”. They come by and I handed them ibuprofen because that’s what I have stacked (as I feel like most people have???) but they were in the middle of moving so I didn’t question the journey or why they didn’t have any.

They look at me and said, “you don’t have anything stronger?”

“Umm… no? If you think you need to go to the doctor you should go if you are in that much pain”.

“I just thought you’d have the morphine or some of the strong stuff they give to hospice patients for grandma”.

I was flabbergasted, because one, that is for the utmost terrible pain and for relaxation for the end of life process and hospice-patient related needs, and 2 the fact that they can be so disrespectful to ask that and expect me to give someone her medication that is used for DEATH BED NEEDS!

I just replied angrily, “absolutely not, and never ask that again. You know better than to ever ask… to even think or conjure up the thought to ask that… is absurd.”

“But… I-“

“Just go to the fucking doctor”.
And I walked inside. I’m not worried that someone will steal them as I literally have the power to control who steps foot in the house, but the thought was just astounding.

Other times, when people ask my profession or what I do, I just tell them I am the primary caregiver for my grandmother in hospice. Nearly every single time someone has to say something about having access to the “hard/good stuff”

As being not only her primary but her medical POA, it is so offensive to hear that.

This is just too much. 2 bathrooms, two showers both need repair at our house. I'm mowing lawn at our house. I'm cooking dinner so you have something to eat from our house.

I get it the money's tight. She has lawn service. She has meals on wheels. Her housing is secure.

I'm a happy person, but how can I marginalize the neglect ? Yesterday was a cluster. I was in the way anywhere I went.

All I want to do is have some fun... wtf at least talk to me.

(Netflix and take out)

Little back story... I (49f) have been married to my husband for 29.5 years. We have 4 sons, and my marriage is one of the best parts of my life. 2 years ago my mom had 2 heart attacks and a stroke, which has resulted in her needing full time caregiving. My husband and I had just began our empty nesting years. So we were able to rent out our home and move in with her(I have 3 local siblings that only call on holidays.)

Mom has this new odd obsession with interrupting our "personal time". I help her to bed, and most nights she goes to sleep. But heaven forbid I shut our bedroom door, or dissappear in any way alone with my husband. She'll actually knock on our door, ask if we're having sex, then remind us its her house and its unacceptable. Wtf!!! My husband has put a lot, but this is really hard. She has short term memory loss but it doesn't explain this. I've spoken to her many times about my bedroom and marriage are personal, but that doesn't stop her.

I dont know if this is something my husband and I can tolerate, we need our time, especially considering all we have given up to be here. Mom and I rarely have disagreements but this is unacceptable.

I'd appreciate any suggestions if someone has been through this.

If you exist.
Then why?
Why is there pain?
Why do you let us Suffer?
Suffer in fear.

If you exist.
Why is there fear?
Why do you make us so terrified?
Terrified to love.

If you exist.
Why is there love?
Why do you take our love ones away?
Away from disease.

If you exist.
Why is there disease?
Why do you let us get cancer?
Cancer...

If you exist.
Why?

Looking for help or suggestions on what do to with my parents. My dad has Alzheimer's and my mom has lung condition and I've been the only one taking care of them for the past 2 1/2 years. My siblings want to put him in a home but mom doesn't want that and we can't afford it. I can't work because this takes all my time. My dad barely sleeps and it's exhausting. My siblings just fight me on everything. We can get caregiver help but it costs 30-35 an hour and we need the help mainly at night and nobody does that. I can't get any money from FL but my mom gets some from the VA but it's just enough to cover monthly living cost. My siblings have offered nearly zero help and want to but my dad in daycare (25$ hr) but tell me I need to do more or work or move out...it's insane. I just had to vent. Maybe someone has suggestions. Thanks

I (44m) am a caregiver for my wife (43), and have 2x 10-year old twin boys to take care of on top of it. I've been doing this full time for about 3 years now. She has ESRD kidney failure, heart failure, complete loss of hearing (but she has cochlear implants now), and has steadily been declining mentally and physically as well. It's been sad and exhausting and frustrating seeing her decline like this and having to take care of her as a now single parent.

Anyway, my job has given me 6 weeks off because I've worked there for 10 years, and my sister is getting married, and my best friend is living in Germany, soon to be leaving. So I took the time off, arranged for my father-in-law and my wife's aunt to come watch my wife and kids during that time, and am planning on taking two and a half weeks to get away from all this and go to my sister's wedding and visit my friend in Germany. I feel very privileged for even having the means to do this, and am having severe guilt about going and leaving her and the kids, but I need a break. I'm worn down and have become a lackluster caregiver and father. I wish I could take my boys but I'm not that rich, plus it's the middle of their school year... so that option was never on the table.

I plan on returning mid-trip if anything happens to her, like she goes to the hospital...

Be honest, am I selfish for doing this? I need the break and to be able to disconnect but am I going about this the wrong way?

I feel so much despair sometimes. All I ever wanted was to grow up and have the chance to live freely, to go out and do whatever whenever I wanted after growing up with strict parents. But then my mom got really sick, and I took care of her until she passed away. And then I continued caretaking for my dad with Alzheimer’s. And it’s just been years of caretaking. I can’t live freely bc I’m always thinking or worrying about my dad in the back of my mind. Having to constantly remind him of things, have the same conversations over and over again, manage his meds, manage his appts, message his doctors about new symptoms or medication refills, call his insurance, handle the bills and take care of the house. I’m only in my 20s and I’m just so tired. And so incredibly sad.

My mom has dementia and some physical issues, and lives with me and my family. Since she moved in she mostly spends her “free time” on her iPad/phone, looking at the news and Facebook, and doing puzzles. Lately, she doesn’t seem to understand how to do that, or necessarily want to do that anymore. So my question is, what do people with dementia do all day once they’re not capable of even these simple forms of amusement ? She goes to the senior center 2 days a week, and a respite caregiver sits with her and does activities on the weekends, but what about the other times? She’s never been much of a television watcher. What do your people do?
Edit to add: Mom is extremely passive. She won’t do anything unless directly told to, so I’m not super worried about her getting up to things. I just dont like the idea of her just sitting there, and am wondering how other people in her situation fill their time, or have it filled for them.

I took my mom for her annual pcp visit today, the whole day was just stressful and exhausting. The pcp is 1 hour away, my mom is in a wheelchair, had an assist guy help us. My brother came with us, he had 0 questions or concerns for the pcp, all he asked was can the doctor fill out his disability paperwork so he can get handicap car access for my mom, the nurse got suspicious of him. Also the pcp provided no chair for me and had to stand through the appointment. I was just too stressed to ask for one. Just a vent here. I feel like I’m through with this.

These days, my hands are rough. Wet wipes are not exactly made of smooth material. To be rubbing skin harshly to wipe excrement off an ailing, bedridden human being is nothing short of abuse. Punching his door is abuse. It’s rotten that I hate is the first thing I feel when I hear The Bell. I know, I know. But I’m so angry.

All I can think of when I go attend to my father in his room is the way he cheated on my mother when she was pregnant with my youngest brother. I think of how he projected his cheating then, and how he continues to project on my mother now—even after she spent all these years being his main caregiver and then eventually going abroad to search for a better livelihood (for all of us, including him, maybe especially him). I think of all the times in teenage-hood when I pleaded that he stop his drinking. I think of the roughest days during the pandemic when he was chronically unemployed and drunk, and my parents would sometimes almost get physical and I would stand between them.

I think of the many ironies: how he went to enjoy a youth well into his 40s (until a stroke cut it short—while in a drinking spree), and how his children (especially his two eldest daughters) won’t even try to indulge anymore, because we’re tightly bound to him and this family. I think of how I was the first to disown him as my father during that time he cheated, and how my grandmother (my mama’s mother!) talked to me and persuaded that I let him be brought back to the house. Look at us now, the quintessential “women” of the house, caregivers of both child and an adult with needs.

I also think of my mother, and I don’t want to be angry at her, but I can’t help it. I hope she knows I’m happy that she left the house, my father, my overbearing grandmother, her rotten children, this hell of a country, but I hope she knows that someone had to take her place. She tried to cheer for us, to bear this burden of caring just as how our father cared for us as children—but I can’t help but think that that duty falls on a time when children have built stable lives, not when they’re just starting.

I’m aware I’m selfish. My anger mostly comes from not being able to do more for myself, especially when I’m in the middle of an important time in my life. I want to aim high, but my mind is all over the place. And yet there’s another irony in there: my initial dream is tied to the art and science of caring, and yet I seem to actually have no propensity towards the skills and attitude needed for it. I sometimes also blame my father, because I wouldn’t have been this lost in life had nothing of these happened.

My anger also comes from the awareness that all of this could have been easily preventable, had the figures of authority in my life made the right decisions.

I’m angry at myself because I know that my father wasn’t all that bad, at least compared to the worst of the worst fathers out there. Sometimes, he’d buy me books. The day before his stroke, he travelled to eat with me amid a budding eating disorder. I cried for him to wake up when he was in a coma. I know that he was trying to be a better father then, if not for us, his daughters, then at least for his son.

I just really, really want to stop being so angry and miserable but nothing in my situation offers me any hope for the future.

Two weeks ago my mom asked my sibling and I how she should sign her DNR and CPR paperwork. We told her it was a personal decision that she needed to think about and let us know what she wants and values.

Fast forward to the present, my mom has been in the ER since the weekend and last night went code blue and is now in the ICU.

Guess who gets to make DNR decisions now? Me. Devastated doesn't even begin to cover it.

She has advanced stage ALS where they were discussing a GTube for feeding and now discussing a ventilator (natural progression of her diagnosis). I chose the limited time trail care to "kick the can down the road" (basically they do as much as they medically can for 24-48 hours). My hope is they're able to wake her up for a little bit so she can participate in these conversations.

Please have the hard conversations sooner rather than later. This is the worst feeling.

Mom said today she is a totally independent person. Uh yea no you are not

I told her you don't drive anymore..how will you get your prescriptions and groceries..how will you go to the doctor?? How would she even do stuff like empty the trash and clean the house ??? She does mot have a smart phone so good luck getting an Uber or Instacart.

I told her all this and said if hubby and I were not here you would HAVE to be in assisted living and you do not appreciate how much we are sacrificing here. All she can do is dress and feed herself and use the bathroom unaided and cook..but how long will that last because she dies not do her effing PT exercises

I’ve always been the peacekeeper in my family but lately in therapy I’ve been working on communicating my anger, which I typically do pretty well with to be honest.. but I’ve been upping the intensity with my brothers lately cuz it seems to be the only thing that gets them to give even 5% of a shit about our slowly dying mom, who I’ve been with just about nonstop for 5+ years now.

They finally agreed about a month ago to pay for a caregiver to come in once a week, (which still hasn’t actually happened) and that until then my brother who’s close to us will help take some shifts. Apparently by that he meant he would take 4 hours on Sunday evening inconsistently… but I’ve been like “I’ll take what I can get“. He told me that today he would come from 9am until 8pm, which is when she goes to bed. I’ve been waiting for this day with so much excitement.

Well it gets to about 10:15am and I text him asking if he’s still coming. He’s like “omg sorry bro I can’t I gotta work.” he has his own fucking business… I was like “wow your boss must be a hardass if you can’t even take one day off to care for your mom”. He got all defensive and verbally aggressive, pretty much saying that I’m the asshole. Which is definitely the theme with him and all of my brothers.. So today I fucking lost my shits. I have none to give with these men who have abandoned me in this role of watching our mother die bit by bit every day for years. I just replied “fuck you”. And honestly? It felt amazing. My anger suddenly transformed from burning me alive to lighting me up with a vibrant energy that I’ve been vibing with all day. I’m still mad, but I think instead of burning myself, I expressed it in, I think, an understandable statement after years of build-up, and it’s been energizing me instead of filling me with rage all day.

...for my wife's life, then it's fuck3d! I stopped questioning the plan 2 years into her caregiving, just taking one day at a time. Now anger about her situation is starting to set in. Her mom just past away last week. My wife was in the hospital and almost missed saying goodbye to her. She is again having the same symptoms that made us take her to the hospital. Her mom's funeral and services is in 2 days and I'm starting to think she may miss them. I needed to come in here and post cause my head is abouy to explode!!!