Grit

I don't like to talk about my dad's disease on here that much because I feel like I'm airing dirty laundry.  But that's becoming more and more difficult to do because it's woven itself into every part of our daily lives.  It's not as simple as "my dad has dementia."  It's not even mild, we're in the moderate to severe category.  It's not just adapting to a few little changes.  It's basic, everyday things we have taken for granted, have become something to monitor and/or make safe.  And not only from the big bad scary outside world, but also from himself.

I hate saying this, but it's true: it's only a matter of time before my dad has to go into a care facility. His disease will take him to a place where none of us will be able to physically and mentally take care of him.  Yes, I fought that reality at first, I'm still fighting it hoping I have years.  But no amount of pride, pleading and crying is going to change the situation. 
After pushing my mom for months, borderline almost a year, I finally figured that I was going to have to do things myself.  If we (ok, me) want a choice for his care, we (I) have to do this now so we're (I'm) not scrambling only to end up settling for some hell hole.  I'm not giving up on my dad, I'm not shirking him off to someone else.  I'm not.  I'm trying to figure out the best possible outcome for him and all of us.  But I'm in Charlotte and he's in Lexington.  So, I can't help physically right now.  My mom needs it and knows it.  But she doesn't have the grit to look for it, acknowledge that it exists, or let alone take it when offered.  So the responsibility of all this is falling to me. 

And believe me, I'm upset about that.  About everything. That my dad has this disease. That I'm the one taking care of it.  That no matter what I said or how I said it I would upset my mom.  But someone has to do it, and between me and my mom, I seem to be the only one strong enough to take action.  So with some grit and some courage, I'm taking care of things.  My mom and I reached an uneasy truce that I would figure things out and she would trust me on my choices.  Which is good, but I'm still alone on this.

It's not the most ideal situation, but what can I do about that?  I'm tired of trying to pull my mom's head out of the sand.  I'm tired of being scared for my dad.  I'm tired of feeling alone on this. I'm tired of looking for grit. And I'm sad.  So, so, so sad.