No good answers

Five minutes after I learned my mother had her stroke, I called my sister, Kim, who lives in Flower Mound, to tell her. Kim immediately got on the first flight to Amarillo, and arrived just in time to sit through Mom's emergency brain surgery. She has been staying here since that day.

She went home for a total of five days in November, I think. But that's it. For two-and-a-half months, Kim has lived with my dad instead of with her husband and 15-year-old son. Thank God Vince and Cole understand. Unfortunately, Izzie and Raider probably don't understand too much (the mini schnauzers).

But it's going to have to end. She and they cannot go on this way. She has a family and a business to run. She has sanity to retain. Most of it is still intact, but believe me, she and I are both exhausted and stressed out because, truly, dealing with both of my parents' illnesses and the effects these illnesses are having on each other, is like Forrest Gump's box of chocolates: We never know what we're going to get. Every day is different. Hell, every hour is different.

Figuring out how to send Kim home without creating more stress for the both of us (and our families) is where we are now. Kim, Vince, Dorsey (my husband) and I met for dinner last night (safely after both parents' crises had been settled) to discuss moving forward.

We figured out my mom's new temporary living arrangements, different from yesterday's temporary living arrangements, courtesy once again of managed care insurance. But we haven't figured out how to make sure my dad is OK from day to day, as well as how to manage being with my mother every day.

As for my mom, I have come face to face with the ugly, hateful reality of our elderly (no, my mother is NOT elderly, but she's with a lot of people a lot older than she) being taken to nursing homes and just left, for whatever reason. Some have families; some don't. Some have families who visit regularly to sometimes, and some receive no visits at all. I try not to judge families because I don't know every situation, but I can't help it.

What I do get and know from seeing this sadness is that I don't want it for my mom. Not now and not ever. I cannot stand the thought of it.

In a perfect world, this never would have happened, but in the next perfect world, we could afford to hire a private nurse for my parents to live with them in their home (or one that is wheelchair accessible). We cannot afford that. That option is off the table. So are several other costly options.

I have learned that without lots of money, it's impossible to give anyone ideal care. Even at nursing facilities, staff can be the kindest, most caring, most competent in the world, but the facilities aren't run with enough money for all the needs of all the residents to be met perfectly. And we all know that if you're going to put a family member in a nursing home, you darn sure better choose wisely, because not all are equal in care, kindness and competence.

The control freak and the love in my sister and me want my mom to be taken care of according to our standards 24 hours a day. That's a sad reality that won't happen. So what do we do and how do we do it? And how do we manage that while also making sure my dad's needs are taken care of? (Because, no, he is in no way a caregiver for my mother; he is not able.)

That's where we are. Kim leaves in a week to go home for at least awhile.

We still don't have answers.