I am interested in reading experiences of primary caregivers of a dying parent.

[Awsi Dooger]

24. I helped with mom and was primary with my dad

Mom essentially died due to a broken ankle at 74. It was an extreme break and required an external fixator. The doctors thought she was too weak to come home after hospitalization and surgery so mom was assigned to a rehab center. She was on the verge of being dismissed to go home when she was diagnosed with MRSA. It got worse and worse to the point she bloated and was put on dialysis after her kidneys failed.

Frankly I didn't know how serious MRSA was, or the situation was, so I didn't go home to Miami from Las Vegas until 2 weeks before mom died. I'll always regret that and it hurts more than I can describe. She had been sent home a week earlier.

Mom was thrilled to see me and had a great Thanksgiving, eating two pieces of pumpkin pie. From that point she steadily declined and we knew it wasn't long. A lady doctor visited the house 9 days before mom died and called my dad aside to whisper to him. I didn't have to ask what that meant. She told my dad my mom's system had suffered too many attacks and would not recover. Then mom herself sensed it the following Sunday. She had her final full day of clarity and started blurting out some things to me, ones that had been family secrets. I asked her not to but she persisted. They were positive about me so she wanted to share.

Mom died three days later.

My younger sister lived smack across the street. She is an addict...addicted to wine. We have never been close. It is difficult to believe she is blood related. Everyone else is helpful and family oriented and straight forward. She is self absorbed and greedy beyond description, not to mention the little matters of a liar, sneak, and thief. I have mentioned on this forum that she is a Republican. So no deviation from expectation there.

That sister during the reading of my mom's will was full out drunk and when family items like jewelry were being assigned to my other sister, the drunk sister frantically waved her arms and exclaimed, "Oh no. On no. That's mine. That's mine. Mom promised that to me in 1974."

I wish I were kidding. It is the only time I've been embarrassed to be a member of this family. The same scene was repeated on at least 6 items. I was livid. My younger sister was devastated. She looked at me with crestfallen eyes and thrust out her hands while asking me, "What am I supposed to do?" My dad was reading the will. He told me later he had to take several deep breaths to remain composed just enough to keep going. He was determined to get through the process and keep it as civil and dignified as feasible, under the circumstances. My drunk sister never had any inkling she was out of line, and her simpleton Republican husband was sober but likewise not surprised. To him it was par for the course.

That drunk sister has caused me nothing but problems in the 9 subsequent years. Her husband divorced her. She was drunk almost every day when she temporarily moved in with me. Fortunately that has ended.

I had planned to detail my dad's passing but I hadn't expected to devote so much detail and emotion while describing mom. In short, dad was diagnosed with pulmonary fibrosis exactly one month after mom died. Once we read about that condition, dad and I were numb and knew he had only 2-5 years to live. It turned out to be 3 years 9 months. I stayed with him in Miami instead of returning to Las Vegas as planned. I am glad I made that choice. It partially offsets the regret I have about mom.

Dad was active and doing surprisingly well and appeared to have another 18+ months until he caught acute pneumonia in a hotel room while we were out of state. The decline was rapid. He lived less than 2 more months, the final 9 days in intensive care. That drunk sister did visit him a few times in the hospital. Then she got drunk on the night he died and remained drunk for weeks. We were trying to write an obituary and she was so drunk and incoherent she literally tipped over and fell off the couch onto the floor.

I don't have 1% respect for her. That's the bottom line now. More than $250,000 total has been spent on her addiction, with zero benefit. Instead of thanking family member for help and patience she is bitter and refuses to acknowledge that she has any problem at all. She owes me more than $15 thousand. I'll never see a dollar of it. Hurricane Irma came and went. She never contacted anyone and ignored every call, email and text we sent to her. She ignores birthdays within the family, and major holidays. More than anything, I'm very concerned that she'll find some way to ruin my life down the road. I don't put it past her. She stole money from my wallet persistently when she was a little girl and that tipped her character subsequently.