As my Mom’s disease progressed and her need for care increased, my Dad stepped into the role of caregiver without hesitation. He became her unwavering guardian, dedicating himself to ensuring her safety and attending to her every need.
However, over time, the demands of caregiving began to wear him down, both emotionally and physically. The exhaustion was written all over his face and his body.
Despite my siblings and me repeatedly urging him to seek help, he remained steadfast in his dedication to my Mom, unwilling to consider other options.
In hindsight, we should have intervened sooner and made the difficult but necessary decision to find care for Mom.
As much as Dad's stubbornness frustrated us at the time, I understand it now. I understand his reasoning. I understand where his heart stood.
I believe my Dad viewed being Mom’s caregiver as an honor and a sacred duty – a privilege that only he, her husband, was entrusted with. A role he nobly held. A responsibility he was determined to carry until the very end.
To him, accepting outside help felt like admitting failure. That he had failed Mom—a cruel, unbearable truth.
As time wore on, Mom’s condition worsened.
She escaped the house a few times.
She left the oven on and placed ceramic bowls on hot stovetop burners.
She constantly misplaced items and lost her purse.
She roamed around most of the day, spending more time on her feet than sitting or lying down.
Despite his steadfast commitment to Mom, caregiving was something he could no longer face with the same energy or fortitude. It was now unsafe for both Mom and Dad.
With no fight left in him, Dad agreed to look for options in their hometown. We found an adult daycare for people with Alzheimer’s/Dementia not far from my parent’s house. We were thrilled we found a place Dad felt comfortable with.
He began dropping Mom off at the center a few days a week.
At first, things were going well. Dad had time to do what he wanted and needed while Mom was at the center.
The heaviness and weariness in his voice lifted and he had more energy. It felt like we were finally in a spot where we could all breathe.
Until one afternoon it all came crashing down.
As Dad was making his way to the center to pick up Mom, he glanced over and saw her walking along a busy road. Stunned to see his wife wandering outside the facility, he quickly pulled over and guided her safely back in the car.
Thankfully she wasn’t harmed, but the thought of what could have happened sends chills down my spine to this day.
At the time, I remember thinking how scared and confused Mom must have been, which only intensified my hurt and anger at the center’s negligence.
Dad was livid. He had trusted the staff to care for his wife, and after just a few weeks, one of the worst things imaginable happened.
We believed we had finally found a reprieve, a place where Dad could at last get some rest. But we found ourselves back at square one, our hearts shattered.
The days and months that followed were incredibly challenging for my family. We were shaken by the ordeal and fearful of making the wrong next move, not fully trusting ourselves and our decisions. Yet, despite this setback, we were determined to forge ahead together, drawing strength from our love for Mom and our resolve and commitment to her safety and well-being.
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