Categories: uncategorized
Date: 30 October 2004 21:40:03
So what do I do?
The main thing that has to be remembered in all of this is that whatever we do, it will never be enough. We can't do what Dad really wants us to do, which is turn the clock back. We can't make him feel fit and well, we can't make it so that he feels confident again, and more to the point, no matter how much time I spend with him and how much I do for him, I'll never fill the gap left by my mum.
Also whatever we do will be the wrong thing. He's his own worst enemy really - incredibly lonely and yet shutting himself away and rejecting all offers of friendship / transport to places etc. I want to do so much more for him but how? I can't neglect myself. I can't neglect the children. And I can't afford to neglect my work.
How about if we did have that extension built and he came to live with us. Could I cope if he paid the money he'd have paid a care home to me? Could I afford to give up work and focus on him while I've got him here? How would I get a break without going insane? How would I cater for the boys' needs (e.g take them to Scouts, find time to do silly things together, go out and about)? Maybe I could do that - and without working at all it'd be a sight easier than it is now where I'm doing the balancing act. Would I go insane without the company at school? Or would that be counterbalanced by the reduction in the stress of teaching? It's that old problem - whichever route we take, there's no going back. I just know for sure that I don't want him to go and live with my siblings - I so desperately want him here. But how? How on earth? A residential home might be the answer (I am going to look at one on Monday with a view to respite) but so much would depend on his mood - he might love it, revel in the company and attention. He might hate it and be quite implacatable in voicing that dislike.
He feels so lonely and wants someone to hold. Yet he has suddenly stopped showing any physical affection to me. I cuddle up to him on the sofa, longing for him to put his arm round me. But it's like cuddling a brick, for all the response I get. He used to be so affectionate. The love's still there in his eyes, though.
If he lived here, would I go mad with the daily analysis of his state of health? Probably - although would it be so much different from now? And could he stand living next door to the bungalow he loves, seeing someone else living there? A hard one, that. Could I, for that matter - the bungalow which mum and I visited together and fell in love with, then conned Dad into moving into, only to discover that mum was dying of cancer?
I can't do anything tonight - can't settle at all.