Quote:
Originally Posted by glatt
You're a good one Glinda.
Each journey is a different one.
My cousin, for whom I was POA and medical decision making dude, had dementia before he died. It was very hard getting him into the care he needed because he thought he was fine and wanted to stay home alone in his house. He was living in filth and would go days without eating. I had to trick him, and he pretty much hated me for it once he realized that I had no intention of getting him out and back into his house. Fortunately he had been declared incompetent by a neurologist and I could blame that neurologist for him being placed in a dementia ward of an assisted living facility.
Fortunately for him, he had money, and being in a position where he had money, he had purchased long term care insurance, which paid his assisted living bills for the year or two that he was in there. Long term care insurance was great for him, although I don't know how much he paid in premiums all those years and if he got back out what he had paid in. Probably not. That's how they make their money.
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Sounds like you've already got some experience with this sort of thing under your belt. I commend you for what you've done for your family . . . it is SO hard.
My folks had a long term policy too, but after paying into it for a decade or so,
the company went belly up and they were screwed.
When the crisis hit (a UTI that turned in to full-on dementia - mom was quite aggressive, combative, and exit-seeking). I initially tried to bring her home, hoping that the familiar setting would calm her down and maybe I could have home visits/help for my folks. No, she was out of control. Caught her trying to climb the back fence, she left notes in the mailbox for the mailman ("Help! I've been kidnapped!"), she threw bricks at me, filched knives from the kitchen and hid them in her bed, she never slept for more than an hour or two at a time . . . it was a nightmare.
After four days of this, I checked her into a full-on dementia facility. After a month, she settled down and regained some of her sanity, so I was able to put her and dad in an assisted living place with a dementia/Alzheimer's unit. My mother begged me and badgered me to take her back to their house, just so she could
see it again . . . but I was too afraid to take her there, lest she flip out and jump out of the car, refuse to leave the house, or run away, hurt herself, whatever.
I'll never forget her saying to me, "You're killing me. I hate you."
Hang in there, man. If you or the captain or anyone else need someone to commiserate with, or you just need to vent a little, I'm here for you.