My brother has so much to say, and so little to contribute to father's care.
Between the snowstorm and Christmas, I haven't been online in days. It's good to see my fellow caregivers again. Although every year I try to get in the mood, I still dread Christmas. Of course my own "golden child" brother made the obligatory visit to my dad's house (They visited on December 23-Because they're sooo busy-Both retired and live 15 minutes away. He: Retired cop. She: Retired marketing executive..ME: working-at-any-job fool with $0)...They gave him the usual $50 Shop-Rite gift card and sat on the edge of their seats for a half hour. Then they were on their way back to their wonderful life. Of course, it was followed up by their usual, cheery call. "The house needs to be cleaned...He needs outside help...He shouldn't have that cat....His arm looks swollen...His toenail doesn't look good..blah, blah, blah" ...So much to say, and so little to contribute. When my mom died, they did nothing except talk about how wonderful she was, and what a great job the funeral director did. I think they visited her 3 times that year. Add that to my husband who quit drinking in 1987 and my daughter who is a recovering drug addict. I was such a good girl. I didn't drink or do drugs. The worst I did was smoke cigarettes and I quit that over 30 years ago...What the hell happened? If there is such a thing as reincarnation, I must have eaten children in my past life.