Contradictions.

Uh, yeah...so in a much earlier post, I wrote about how my Dad had been sent to the Geriatric Psych Ward over a year ago under the pretense that he'd be getting his meds straight, etc., then we'd bring him home...but what really happened was that they told me to walk away, that he was too far gone and that they were making him a ward of the state. I wrote how nothing had been even asked or explained, that they just proceeded without my knowledge and assumed we were abandoning him or that I was okay with that. At that time, I knew no more about Conservatorship than I do about the current budget "crisis" in California.
WELL...This time around...I do. I was called yesterday and asked about whether we'd spoken to anyone about Conservatorship and I said I had...and that I was not going to contest it like I did last time, since now I not only realize what it is, but have also thrown up my white flag in defeat of this disease or being able to care for my Dad.
Uh, yeah, no...they don't want to this time. They told me that IIIIIIIII needed to finance a Conservatorship...that "the family" needed to be the one that pursued this. Hmmm. If WE, meaning me, are not trying to BE the Conservator...why would III need to pursue anything? And what if I was dead...? Then what? Do they think they're going to track down my brother or sister and get them to do any paperwork that isn't in anyone's best interest and would shackle them to this like I've been? That's ludicrous and out of touch with reality. While yes, he is our family, our Dad...he is "just" our Dad. He is not my SPOUSE or CHILD. Everyone I have now talked to is in total agreement that I should've never tried to take the role of caregiver to begin with...I am "only" the daughter. Now, not that I totally agree that I "shouldn't" have tried to take care of my Dad...but when I obviously can't and have been sorely neglecting my own family and health in pursuing my father's 5 seconds of happiness per day...mustn't something give?...besides me?
I swear, everytime I turn around, I get a totally different experience/answer from the same situation. Are there no universal standards followed? What are rules for? Why so many contradictions with everything?
Whether it's dealing with bank issues or whatever...shouldn't there be some basic, universal rules and laws that EVERYONE follows? Why is it that every branch of bank and hospital and facility has their "own" rules and way of doing things? And why are we sent to lawyers to pay ungodly amounts of money for documents that are worth less than the paper they're printed on?
I never signed on as a Conservator or had the Trust papers officially filed when I found out that it would just make MORE work for me. No freakin' way. And since we all now know that the POA forms are looked upon as worthless...then what exactly is my place? I apparently don't have one unless it's convenient for the person saying so at the time. Either I am "authorized" or I'm not...I shouldn't half-ass be authorized at some places but not others when they don't want me to be. I give up. And I don't trust lawyers or this whole system, county and state government AT ALL. It's cracked.

So I had my Support Group meeting this morning. I hadn't been able to go for two weeks because of all the nonsense happening. I am so glad I made it today. I updated everyone on what's been happening, and got SO much input on everything...I feel a lot better now about this decision to not be the responsible one for my Dad anymore. And there was a woman named Rita who I'd never met who came. She has dealt with two parents in this situation and was an abundance of knowledge for me...she even chimed in on the whole money situation because she has been dealing with that as well. Although I have a massive headache right now from being stressed before the meeting, I do really feel a weight has been lifted...there is absolutely nothing like hearing other people telling the same story you are in at this very moment. Everyone had some input either about how I obviously need to let go of feeling guilty...to what they would do about the money...to the fact that they absolutely forbid me to sign ANY documents regarding my Dad's stay at the VA so I am not held responsible...and was even offered to be treated to a massage! My goodness!
I told you my support group friends were great!
I still have a lot to figure out and it appears that I will, yet again, have to meet with some sort of lawyer to figure out all this money nonsense...but for the moment, I am going to just be.

Dad, Psych Ward Resident.

After several calls to the place Dad was supposed to be, I found out Dad had been transferred the day after he arrived...to the Geriatric Psych Ward in Menlo Park. The Resident/Assistant to Dad's new Doctor called and told me that Dad was very combative and that though they had originally hoped to take him off all meds to see what they were working with...he is far too combative to allow that. He screams, tries to hit and generally wreaks havoc every second. Sounds a lot like how he was here at my house. They've got him on Seroquel, Haldol and Olanzapine...all pretty serious drugs...and all drugs that are not necessarily approved for use in the elderly with dementia because of the risk of sudden death. My god.
And apparently Dad needed an X-ray of his hand...the Resident didn't know exactly how that all came about...but it took several people to restrain Dad to even get the X-ray...which showed he had many small fractures throughout his hand. They have no idea how that happened. All I know is that in the last few weeks, Daddy has swung at so many objects, fallen, and thrown TV's...so it could've been any number of things that caused this.
I asked Mr. Resident Doctor Zambrano what he thought about contacting Dad or visiting...and he said I should ask the Nurse's since at least one of them is assigned to Dad 24/7 due to his combativeness. He said that they would be the best to assess whether he was having a good enough day to talk/visit. Really, that makes no difference...I don't know that Dad has any good days anymore...and considering we live a good hour and a half from Dad now, it would be an all-day trip to see him...a trip we'd have to plan in advance...and how can you "plan" for Dad to have a good day? You can't. So I guess we can call or visit at our own risk...and without the kids.
I think it may take me a while to get up the nerve to go...and I may wait until brother can go with me. I'm having a really hard time with all of this. I've been doing all kinds or organizing and cleaning around the house and yard...I mean, it's stuff that needs to be done anyway...but I am definitely using manual labor as cathartic therapy. Hey, if it works, it works. But is it working? I dunno.
I also had fun yesterday with the bank. We are trying to get Dad's Social Security check direct deposit nonsense switched to a new account, so that once the Conservatorship thing goes through, there will be this one, untouched account that has only ever had his SS check going into it. But no, hassled again. I got a load of paperwork and was told to call Social Security directly...which got me 47 minutes on the phone with an agent and no progress. Even though I went with Dad 3 years ago to the SS office to set all this crap set up, there was, of course, no record of this and so, of course, I am "not authorized" to do anything. SS doesn't recognize the POA forms. It seems that no one does unless you don't have one, then they want one. Naturally!
And, it seems that the bank doesn't have brother's POA form in the system either, which makes no sense since we both sat at the same desk on the same day and gave the bank our POA form...that has BOTH of our names on it. If they got the form with MY name on it...they automatically have my brothers name too...but no...so that needs to be done again. Seriously, how this world keeps spinning, I really don't know.

Adjusting to being normal?

I haven't posted because I am not used to this. I have nothing to report about my Dad.
I haven't called him since they took him because I know he's going to be completely confused and crying if I do, so I plan on calling the Dr. there today to see how things are going first.
The last few days I have swung between feeling completely exhausted and useless, to sad and depressed, and then full of energy that my body really isn't able to utilize.
I feel like I have failed my Dad and myself for allowing this to happen, for letting him be where he is.
YES, I know that common sense and logic (and everyone around me) tell me that I have to, for once, think of myself and my own family...that this situation was insane and that I could not go on like that anymore. I know all that. But it doesn't change that I still feel like I failed. And I don't get how everyone else can just go on like it's normal...is this normal? It's normal to be able to be happy while one of your family members is in a psych ward waiting to be made a ward of the state because you couldn't take care of him? If that is normal, then this explains why I am NOT "normal" and never have been.
This is not right, it's just not.

Just Another Day.

I slept some last night.
But I am frazzled, I have hives, and my skin looks like that of a hormonal teenager.
Stress. So much fun.
I called Palm Haven to ask if there was anything else I needed to sign to make it official that my Dad was not coming back...they seemed unsure when I picked him up the day before.
I talked with Christine, who was the first person I dealt with, whom I did all the original paperwork with, who was the one who initially sold me on the place.
She said she and other managers had NO idea what had been happening, or why I took my Dad out. She seemed genuinely mortified when I gave her just a handful of the details of phone calls I received...especially the fact that people kept saying it wasn't the right place for him, that he was being kicked out, etc. Apparently the Nurse who had yelled at me that one night and said he was being kicked out got fired. Apparently there had already been some issues with her tact in the past, and what she said to me was the last straw. I kinda feel bad that she lost her job, but clearly she shouldn't be in this line of work. It's stressful, hard, exhausting...and you HAVE to be able to perform under pressure. She definitely lacked those qualities.
Anyhooo...Christine said she really needed to find out who said what and why...that there is just no excuse for what they did. Unfortunately I was usually in such a sleepy stupor, I rarely caught anyone's name, so I wasn't very helpful there. She, like the Head Nurse (Matt) that I spoke to, said that their nurses are very well trained to deal with people like my Dad and that there should've NEVER been anything said about him being kicked out...that it sounded like the nurses just didn't feel like dealing with it...and she wanted to know which ones those were because they don't want people like that working there. Uh, yeah, I agree...although it's far too late for us, I hope no one else goes through this, it was hell. It's quite enough dealing with everything this disease brings...but when you find all these facilites advertising they care for people with diseases such as this and then they threaten you with being kicked out...well, it's more than most people could deal with.
I feel terrible today. My body hurts and I just feel, I dunno, like a live wire, but too tired to move. It's like an inner trembling.
I hesitate to call my Dad for a few days until he gets somewhat situated. I know they are going to take him off all his meds again to see what they've really got to deal with. But I am afraid that what they're going to see will equal him being medicated into a vegetative state. I know that there is no hope for him now...that he cannot ever have a normal day again, that he will never be anything but confused and paranoid and scared...and that his combative outbursts and even worse behavior during that "sundowning" time will mean he needs to be medicated to the point of being manageable...which basically means being a mindless entity that still resembles my Dad. This is what I have been avoiding, knowing that the time would come soon enough...but I wanted to try to preserve what tiny bits of lucidity he still had left. I know now that he is not manageable in any way anymore without medication...and that not medicating him just for the sake of 5 minutes of clear-headedness is not the right decision. I guess I prolonged it as long as I could, I dunno. Did I?
We're going a flooring place in a little while...we need to get a lot replaced. We already tore up the bedroom carpet...holy stench!...and hubby tore out the bathroom flooring yesterday...it was thoroughly soaked and smelly too. Dad had accidentally flooded the bathroom at least 3 times before we realized just how much assistance he needed in there. What's weird is just HOW much water was underneath. It's a linoleum floor, and our house is 3 years old, and the caulking seal was still intact...so I wonder just how it got that soaked...and it makes me worry that behind the wall is wet as well. That's not good.
Okay, more phone calls to make to get some of Dad's stuff organized.
Groundhogs Day, everyday.

Arrrrgh. Times Two.

Okay, no calls last night...but I took the phone off the hook so I don't know if they tried to call. It really irritates me that I have to take my phone off the hook to sleep...nevermind the fact that if an ACTUAL emergency happened, then I wouldn't find out about it.
SO...
My this morning Dad's VA Dr. called and said that there wasn't a bed available at the Geropsychiatric unit in Menlo Park, but there was a bed available at the Palo Alto Psych unit and they could admit him there and then transfer him when one was available at the other facility.
Okay, I think?
So I call the Nursing Home Daddy's at to tell them I'm coming to take him...to make sure he was awake, ready, etc. before I got there...and they tell me I CAN'T take him...that they need a Doctors order.
Huh?
I brought him there, admitted him...but I can't take him out?
3 conversations with 3 nurses later, they say they will call the onsite Doctor because HE has to give me permission to take my Dad.
I'm missing something.
They say that THEY are responsible for him, so that even if I wanted to take him HOME to MY house, they would have to give ME permission.
Uh, I didn't SIGN my Dad over to them, he is not their "ward"...he is merely a resident at their facility...that we are paying for.
Anyway, they say they'll "try" to get the paperwork done and contact the Doctor.
I say I'm coming in 30 minutes regardless.
I call my brother to see if there is any possible way he could come with me in case Dad gets out of hand. Hubby is home, but bringing him means bringing the kids...not an option. Brother said he could come! Yippppee! So I am going to pick Dad up then pick up brother on the way to the VA.
Then the VA Doctor calls back and says the Palo Alto VA just told her that the bed she was going to reserve was being reserved for someone else...but they're trying to make it official, so they'll get back to her...and that I should just hold on until she (if) she calls me back.
Ummm...so do I call the facility my Dad's at and cancel the whole paperwork trail and "getting permission"...or call my brother first to tell him the whole thing is off for now?
I leave a message with brother.
About 20 minutes later, the VA Dr. calls and says she's got the bed, to come now, before she leaves for lunch. It's a 30 minute drive to get Dad, and another 30-ish minute drive to get brother and get to the VA. No time to spare.
Brother calls just in time, he'd just gotten my "hold on" message...and I tell him we're back on.
I go to get Dad.
I wasn't prepared for seeing the way he looked in that Gery Chair thing. He was standing up in it, but he looked so pale and sad and he started crying as soon as he saw me. He thought he was in Albuquerque, NM...and that we'd left him there. Oh god, please don't cry, please don't cry, I tell myself.
They had already shoved all his clothes in a big plastic bag and he was ready to go except I had some paperwork to get.
I kept seeing this one guy milling around...not a patient...someone who looked like he worked there. But I was too busy to pay too much attention to him at the time.
Two Nurses helped my Dad and me out to the car...and as we're pulling out of the parking lot, the guy who was milling around came and tapped on my window. Apparently he was their Social Worker and wanted to know why I was taking my Dad out so suddenly. Not that I had time anyway, but I wasn't about to have that conversation with my Dad sitting there.
Many Doctors just freely discuss their "demented" patients right in front of them because they figure they won't recall any of it. That still doesn't seem right to me. I told the guy I would call him later.
So of course I got lost trying to pick up brother from work. I am so scatterbrained these days, getting lost is the least of my problems.
But we finally get to the VA, meet with the Dr. and she chats with Daddy for a few minutes. She was alarmed at how much he had declined since she last saw him a couple of months ago.
She tells us to go get Daddy some lunch while she does paperwork and orders the Ambulance.
I am feeling anxious.
Daddy has a hard time eating...he is kind of jerky and shaky. Brother gets the fun of taking to the bathroom afterward this time. That is an ordeal everytime...I should know!
I kept it together pretty well until they got Daddy into the Ambulance. Daddy had already been crying off and on and I had to look away, or think of something that annoys me to keep from bawling. I lost my "composure" when we were walking away from the Ambulance.
None of this is right.
He shouldn't have to go to a place like that. But I know that I have literally exhausted all other options, myself, hubby, and my two kids in the process of trying to make things the way IIIIII want them to be for him.
It's not what is the reality here and I have to accept that.

This will not be easy.

Let me sleep pleeeeeeeeeaase.

At a few minutes before 10pm last night, the facility called. I didn't answer it initially because I was SLEEPING and let it go to voicemail...then I got up I listened to it in case it was actually "something" this time.
The message didn't sound good. The girl left no real information...she just said that she needed me to call her back...she sounded, well, like she had bad news.
NO, no, no...!
So I called right back.
Drum roll....
She says that she was calling to let me know that EARLIER they had noticed a bruise on my Dad's abdomen...EARLIER...and that he was sleeping right now.
I swallowed the words I really wanted to say and asked why they didn't call me EARLIER or tomorrow MORNING, like, when we would be, like, I dunno........AWAKE????
Then she apologized and hung up. I took the phone off the hook again.
So...yet another call to the head Nurse, Matt, tomorrow morning, I guess?
After the call, of course I was wide awake. I started worrying about things concerning the conservatorship...like WHO is going to trim his fingernails and toenails when he's a ward of the state...will anyone do that? Will anyone cut his hair? Shave him? I was making myself crazy thinking that no one will take care of his needs.
Not that he thinks WE were taking care of him. Everytime we didn't get to him within seconds, he'd yell that he'd been waiting an hour...an HOUR...that is exactly what his mother always said too. No matter how quick you got to Nany calls, she would cuss and yell that she'd been waiting an HOUR. Always an hour.
I dunno. I need to stop thinking about all of this. I am making myself insane with worry.
I dunno, Daddy, I hope that you will eventually go to a better place so you will have an understanding of what really went on.
It kills me that there's the possibility that he thinks we didn't try our best to take care of him.
Sigh....

Hmm...but oh, there's more...

At around 11am I got a phone call from the facility. Seems that Daddy is being so disruptive they had to put him in one of those weird new "gery" (sp? like geriatric?) chairs. Apparently Daddy went ballistic again and was in and out of people's rooms...eventually into the room of a woman, which they of course frown upon for good reason...and he ended up throwing a TV table over...thus also throwing her TV on the floor...and it, of course, broke.
I'm sure I'll be getting a nice fat bill for that...wonder if they're gonna splurge and buy an even bigger TV now?
The Nurse said that my Dad is actually sort of "okay" with being in this chair...it's this weirdo contraption made of what looks like PVC pipe, fashioned into this box-frame of sorts...and they can use it as a seat or walker...but it limits the space they can fit into (so they can't be as invasive in other people's space)...and if they become out of hand, it has wheels so the Nurse's can gain control much more quickly.
I tell ya...something new and interesting everyday.

First moment of peace.

The facility let my Dad call me yesterday. It was horrible. He cried the whole time and sounded awful. I tried to be calm and reasonable and calm him down, but I felt like I needed to calm myself as well. It was so sad. He was saying he was lost and needed someone to find him...there is no reasoning with that, especially when he was crying and sounding so pitiful. I ended up talking to a Nurse afterward to ask what they were giving him...they said he'd actually slept the whole night, but he was very emotional all day. They are giving him Risperdal (an anti-seizure drug that doctors found helps with bi-polar) and Restirol for sleep. I don't know a lot about the Restirol, but I don't like that they have given him Risperdal...that stuff is like a chemical lobotomy. I don't know, I hate this. My first instinct is to jump in again...but I know I can't do that.
After that phone call...I had some downtime for the first time in nearly forever. I ran a few non-rushed errands, and then just stayed home...sat around, and there were NO calls last night. I didn't even have the phone off the hook...I actually checked the phone this morning to make sure there was a dial tone...how pathetic is that?
Anyway, this small taste of sleep has me more tired than rested. After I go grocery shopping, I plan on doing a whole lot of nothing today...I have my weirdo whole-body, head-to-toe bone pain today from my so-called fibromyalgia or whatever it is. Must vegetate.

Only IIIIIII get an Opinion on this!

Okay, so Wednesday morning came...time for us to take Daddy to THE only place that would even consider letting him in their facility.
I told Daddy that we were going to a place that would be able to take better care of him, etc., etc., and he was in total agreement. I KNEW his calm response would be temporary.
By the time we got there, he was freaking out. He started crying and begging us to promise him that we would be coming back for him. He told the Nurse that "the only thing they (we) have a problem with is that I can't sleep but I can't help it, but there's NOTHING wrong with me".
Sigh. Poor Daddy. Damn Lewy.
I had to leave the room several times to not start crying.
He was getting pretty agitated and wanted to go to lunch and to get some gum...he says gum calms him down. We'd confiscated his gum at our house after he kept chewing it while laying down (and falling asleep with it in his mouth) and then he'd spit it on the carpet. We still haven't been able to get all the gum cut out.
So we went to lunch. He wanted a burger and pineapple coconut shake...which means Dairy Queen. He was agitated the whole time. When he was done eating, he wanted to go wash his hands and we offered him some napkins first to get the majority of the mess off before we took him to the sink, but he started yelling that we "wouldn't even take him to the bathroom because we think he's going to try to run off".
Sheeeesh. As if he could really get away even if he wanted to. Even at his highest speeds, his shuffle is easy to catch. We ignored his responses and focused on distracting the kids from his bad behavior. I think my kids are going to need counseling.
Anyway, so hubby gets Daddy all washed up and then I ran into Walmart across the street and got him several packs of gum, and we took him back, got him settled into his new room, and went home.
The place had assured me that they understood his condition completely, not to worry, etc., and I looked forward to some sleep that night. I was out like a light early, dead asleep, when...
Uh, no.
At about 9:50-something, the facility calls. Just seeing the number on the caller ID stressed me out. They were calling because I had written down that Daddy was born in 1934 and he was arguing with them that he was born in 1939.
They were calling to settle an argument with a Dementia resident about their birthday?
I was dumbfounded.
I called the Admin. the next day and told them what happened and they were equally as shocked and assured me that would never happen again.
Uh, yeah...so the second night at 8 pm, I get another call.
This time it's the Nurse that doesn't speak very good english and she is IRATE. Daddy was arguing with them about pretty much everything and being combative...swinging at them. He was absolutely confused as to where he was, etc. I could hear him yelling in the background. But the Nurse was yelling just as loud and telling me I needed to come there RIGHT THEN to either give him pills to calm him down or take him home with me because he was being kicked out.
Needless to say I was a little upset. Of the almost 40 places I called, this place was the only one that would take him...and they were kicking him out on the second day?
REALLY long story short, about 5 calls with the irate Nurse later and at around midnight, it was decided that Daddy was staying, at least for that night. The psych-ward behavioral center that she was trying to get him into for evaluation said they wouldn't take him because the 'policy' is that a facility must have the resident for at least a week before shipping them off (yes! finally someone ELSE is being turned down!)...and because Daddy has no insurance.
I called my brother to tell him what was happening and to ask him if he's going to have a problem with Daddy being institutionalized...because I am NOT about to go on another hunt for facilities. I have spent the last 3+ years of my life taking care of my Dad and I am beyond exhausted. I am ready now for the State to have conservatorship. I can not and will not make these decisions anymore...and I can just assume that brother doesn't want this responsibility either. He doesn't. Who really does? This is a nightmare.
I took the phone off the hook. But I did not sleep that night.
The next morning I was up early. I finally put the phone back on the hook at 6:54 AM. 3 minutes later the facility called me.
This Nurse tells me she's "been trying to get a hold of Roy's daughter..." because Daddy had fallen during the fiasco last night and scraped both knees.
They were trying to call me for hours, PRIOR to 6 am, to tell me this.
This Nurse also tells me that she doesn't think their place is the "right" place for my Dad.
I ignore her comment and say nothing because I was trying to get dressed...
I was getting dressed and ready...finally attempting to get out of my house with my daughter to visit a friend who lives out of town a couple of hours south. Some resemblance of a life? What normal people do? Wow!!!!!! Could it really be?
Nope.
What I really ended up doing was fielding call after call on my cell phone about what's going to happen to my Dad. I got a message from my brother that he had indeed made a call to someone at the facility...someone named Matt...and the message really ANNOYED me because he said Matt said they'd "handled everything" the previous night. Uh, NO, they DID NOT "handle it", or I wouldn't have had to calm the NURSE down on the 5 calls I spoke with her. And they wouldn't have been threatening to kick Daddy out or telling me that IIII needed to come there and calm him down, give him pills, or take him home. AND they wouldn't have been trying to call me ALL NIGHT to tell me about scraped knees...if they were "handling things".
I talked to the guy Matt (who ended up being the head of Nurse's) that my brother talked to and told him about the message he left me in regard to THEIR conversation. Then I filled him in about what REALLY happened the night before...because apparently none of his Nurse's told him what they told ME, of course. They hadn't told him that they said my Dad was being kicked out. They didn't tell him that they were YELLING at me. They didn't tell him that they told ME to drive 40 minutes to give my Dad meds or take him HOME.
After all was said and done, Matt profusely apologized and assured me that it wouldn't happen again...that there would be a meeting to discuss the fact that it is NORMAL for residents to 'flip out' and take some time to adjust to new surroundings...AND for them to get on a medication that will allow them to be calm. He said that he was embarrassed that his Nurse's had done what they did, because the are all fully trained and capable enough to have taken care of the problem without calling me. He said they were clearly just looking for what was easy for THEM (thank you!). He also said that the irate Nurse that had called me wouldn't be calling me again...he said that he'd noticed she wasn't the best at handling incidents such as the one with my Dad.
I felt better. But to be honest...even though this head of Nurse's was definitely intelligent and calm and seemed to have all the right answers and knowledge to take care of my Dad...unfortunately he can't be everywhere at all times. He was apparently on duty when the fiasco happened and he had no idea because no one came to him. Clearly not all the Nurses are like him. I wish.
So, I have some things to decide. I can't just hope that this Matt is going to be able to change things. He said he'd JUST come to this facility two weeks ago, so he's new and trying really hard to make it better. But I can't count on that. I know from experience that the very BEST of intentions doesn't necessarily mean success...or that they will stop calling me every night.
And I can't be threatened with my Dad being kicked out anymore, it's too traumatic. I am now accepting the fact that I cannot do this. I won't. I can't disrupt my kids lives anymore. I can't disrupt MY life anymore. I can't make all my Dad's decisions and be running around scatter-brained, too tired to even know what I'm doing if it's not on a written LIST, and not spending time with my own family because my Dad is having yet another crisis. My body is tired, sick and weak.
And so the next phone call I made was to my Dad's VA doctor who had FINALLY called me back that afternoon (after 3 weeks of no response). She said she was on vacation and apologized...but I know for a fact that she's been back for two weeks because her nurse told me so. But whatever, it's not like confronting her about that would get me anywhere.
She wants to send my Dad to the VA Geropsychiatric facility (did I spell that right?). The same one that was a nightmare...the one that made him a ward of the state and told me to leave him, to forget about him. I discussed conservatorship with her and she was in full agreement that that might be the wisest decision...to have someone else, not me, be appointed "the responsible party" for my Dad. She has seen ME for pretty much every visit she's had with my Dad. She knows that I am the one in the driver's seat and that I have not been well and that I have two small children to consider. She explained the whole conservatorship process to me, and I am going to think long and hard about it...although I don't think there's anything to think about really. Someone else (not in our family) would be appointed to make all my Dad's decisions. THEY would find an appropriate facility...and would probably have a lot more pull to get him in to a suitable place than I would...unlike my time-wasting calls-a-plenty to places that shut me down cold. We would still be able to visit and give input...but the conservator would make any final decisions...and would be the one to get the harrassing phone calls.
If thsi happened, I would possibly be able to get rested, spend time with my kids for once, actually see a friend or two more than once every 6 months, get well, and stop TWITCHING.
Sounds pretty good to me.
So I have some things to think about...and NO ONE gets to have an opinion BUT ME.
I may ask for someone's input, because that's how I am. I want family/Doctors to be involved despite the fact that I know they won't actually HELP...but I want the input so that I can weigh the pros and cons and TRICK MYSELF into thinking I'm really not making all the decisions on my own, which is the reality. So, I can ask for all the opinions I want, but in the end...no one has the right to get mad at the fact that I may not even consider your opinion because IIIII have been the one here, living this. I've been knee-deep in phone calls, paperwork, legal fees and meetings, banking hell, people treating me like a ditzy idiot because I "look too young" to be dealing with this, touring facility after facility, Depends undergarments, doing paperwork to move my Dad IN to facility after facility, doing paperwork to move my Dad OUT of facility after facility, asshole Doctors, asshole bankers, asshole Social workers, nutball psychiatrists....seriously...I could do a whole blog about all the rude, inconsiderate people along this path...but I get the final say on what happens next.
No backseat driver's allowed, so run along.

My last resort came through.

After hours of faxing and phone calls, Palm Haven Manteca said they could take him. My god, the relief. And, for once, I actually do not feel bad that I am relieved. My kids are so terrified of Grandpa at this point that they run out of the room when he comes near.
And he has been SO awful today. Literally every 5 minutes for hours he was yelling that he needed help.
Everytime we move him it's at least a 15 minute process because he moves a half inch at a time and he can't turn or bend...we do all the work. So...we'll do all of this and get him in the chair he asked to be in...then 5 minutes passes and he pops right up with complete ease and screams for help into bed again. Another 15 minutes to get him in bed and then 5 minutes later he pops right up and screams to go to his chair. And everytime he screams for us, he says horrible things about how he's been "waiting a Fucking hour for us and how we're monsters and mutherfuckers and how the lord will make us pay for what we've done to him".
Holy CRAP.
I am SO not good with that kind of behavior.
I should be the one that can rationalize that this is a disease, right? That it's the disease making him say these things? The thing is that his mother was exactly like this...but not just with the dementia...that was her personality. And my Dad was like this as a drunk. He really wasn't a very nice person, to be truthful...and this just seems like his old personality coming out again...through Lewy.
I hear about people who were kind, quiet people, preachers even...who, once struck with Alzheimer's or another dementia, become a monster. I have to admit that I think there is some part of that "monster" that was really inside of them all along though. I just don't see how someone who never cussed their whole life would suddenly utilize words they shunned...unless it was a quiet anger creeping in them the whole time.
So...after taking a half hour of being cussed out, I'd remind Daddy about how IIIII am the only one that's helping him...I asked him if he remembered anyone else since my Mom died coming to help with anything. He quieted down.
Then he fell out of bed trying to pop up again and hubby helped him back up...and then he cursed hubby out again.
When hubby left the room, Daddy started banging on the wall and doing this horrible shrieking-laugh...like the Joker in Batman...and started squealing in this truly evil voice...he said the second hubby went to bed tonight, that he was going to make sure he woke his ass up right away...and he laughed and laughed and said that he'd show US who's boss and in control.
Lewy is scary, scary, scary.

And the 'accidents'...hoo-boy. Today was another doozy huge one. We are seriously going to have to replace our flooring downstairs. It stinks. He had more or less marked his territory LAST time he lived here...and I got the carpets cleaned and it turned out halfway okay. There are certain areas that have still have a "scent"...but after this time around...dear god...no use in trying to professionally clean it again. Our carpet cleaner needs to retire. There have been so many different kinds of spills, stains and accidents...ick. Bewteen the "accidents", Daddy spitting and smashing gum into the floor numerous times, and all the times he SPIT god-awful things on the floor...I can't even fully think about it or I would probably never take my shoes off. I just hope that I got the carpet clean enough so it isn't posing a health hazard.
Blech.

So, anyway, in closing...

One more night with no sleep.
One more night with no sleep.
One more night with no sleep.

No Facilities for Old Men.

I didn't even get a chance to post yesterday, that's how crazy it's been.
Daddy is the typical Jekyll and Hyde now. Going from completely insane and angry one second, to crying and apologetic the next. I'm not good with that, so I've been doing a lot of walking away from the situation...giving myself a time-out before I react badly. Especially when he starts these conversations with, say, the floor, and he's arguing with it, cursing it, and then I stupidly ask him if he needs something. Bad move. He acts like a mean drunk. He was a mean drunk back in the day. I remember it well. It's as if he's somehow regressed into a drunken stupor without the alcohol.
WELL, the place I was counting on...the nursing facility that caters to people with psych-oriented issues denied us. They said they thought they already had too high of a ratio of people like my Dad. Oh, and that they already filled the bed anyway. 'Nuff said. No one wants to take my Dad. I almost cried on the phone when they told me this. Honestly, I have been turned down by about 35 nursing homes since Friday.
One place did refer me to a locked nursing home in Manteca, which is about 30-40 minutes from here. Within minutes of being turned down for the other place, I found out about this place and I immediately wanted to go look...but...that crap-hole place I talked about with the bratty girl LVN's was sending their Nurse to assess my Dad, so I had to wait.
Take a guess what happened! We sat there, time wasting and ticking away, and the "assessment" Nurse, who looked and smelled as if she'd been smoking since age 2, tells me she doesn't think they can handle him because he can walk and wanders.
F***********CK! I TOLD THEM that he was ambulatory on FRIDAY!!!! I TOLD THEM he wandered on FRIDAY!!! Now it's Monday and I am exasperated, and she acts like this is some new development. I'm sorry, but I must say it....ASSHOLES! Why waste their time and MY time? Arrrrrrrgh!
So the second smoker-Sally left, I jetted to the Manteca facility. While it wasn't up to my clearly impossible standards, it's doable. It's a locked unit, the people there all have some sort of dementia, and they SAID they were positive they could handle him. I repeated at least three times that my Dad wanders, he can walk, and that he gets argumentative. Their answer to all that was, "That stuff happens".
Sadly, I am so jaded that this is not making me jump for joy because 3 other places said the same thing, and then they changed their minds.
Someone is supposed to call me this morning...but I'm already planning on calling by 9 am if they haven't called me by then.
At this point, I would've settled for the craphole place. I am so beyond exhausted. I feel like IIIII have dementia...I can't remember anything, I start doing something and forget why I am there...I'm delusional, moody, and fed up. Someone must take my Dad. Right now. This minute.
And this minute, of course...now that it's morning and I just made the kiddies breakfast...and I need to get ready for the long day ahead...guess who is completely knocked out and comfortably in sleepyland?
Yep, Sleeping beauty is finally asleep now that the rest of us have to be up. He got us up SO many times last night that I can't even remember if I ever fell asleep at all.
Hubby is at an interview this morning so I am hoping that Daddy stays asleep. I have a REALLY hard time getting him in and out of the bathroom considering I am half his size and his limbs bend about as well as a broomstick.
If this place today doesn't pan out, I may just have a nervous breakdown.
And then I'll have to start calling facilities that are hours away, because that's all that's left.