The Chickens Came Home!!

Have you heard the saying “the chickens have come home to roost”? This is supposed to signify a karmic state of getting what you deserve. I suppose that I do deserve this. For years I’ve taunted my brother with “I’d never let Mom and Dad go to a nursing home”. I even believed it to an extent. I just never thought I’d have to take care of them. But now, the chickens have indeed, come home to roost. I’ve left my comfortable little house and moved in with my elderly parents to help them during their golden years. My 80-year old mother has Alzheimer’s Disease which creates a burden on my 84-year old father. So I’m here to save the day with two advance practice nursing degrees and my slightly warped outlook on elder care.

In order to accomodate my furry family (two dogs and five cats) my folks sold their practical townhouse and moved to a large single family house in the suburbs. Complete with a large yard, this house has quickly become the focus of my father’s attention. He spends as much time outside in the yard as he can. Thankfully my mother is content to sit in a sunny spot and re-read her favorite book. I feel guilty that I made them leave the townhouse where all the outside work was done courtesy of the HMA. Because of the demands of my job, I don’t have as much time to spend in the yard or with my beloved animals or with my folks. I work, come home, eat and sleep only to begin again the next day. By the weekend I’m exhausted and barely crawling through necessary chores. I wonder if my folks have doubts about me being able to help them. I know I do.

I have to admit that I resent my brother for his ability to walk away from our parents and not look back. He obviously isn’t concerned about the precedent that he’s setting with his own daughter. Perhaps someday, he’ll understand the significance of chickens coming home. However, that can’t be my concern anymore. I’ve made my bed (another deplorable cliche) and I have to live with it. I insisted that the nursing home wasn’t the place for MY parents. I’m hoping that with this scribbling account of my new life as a caregiver, I’ll gain insight into my own heart and mind as well as spark some comments, advice, prayers, and good thoughts from those that happen across my musings.

 

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