So, after months of my grandfather driving emergency rooms and his primary care physicians crazy that he felt "miserable"... they finally took steps to deem my grandfather incompetent to make his own medical decisions and gave us ZERO options other than to place him in a nursing home.
Do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars... head directly to the nursing home. Goodbye driver's license, goodbye legal right to deal with his own finances, goodbye freedom... hello wristband that will set off alarms if he tries to leave the building and a wing full of roommates that are grievously in need of being in the home repeating hostile sentences or being humped over in chairs heavily sedated.
My grandfather was just a cantankerous old man that got it in his head that he should feel 65 instead of 85 and when no doctors or nurses at the hospitals where he was constantly being admitted to try to help control his high heart rate and low blood pressure could help make that a reality, he would check himself out against doctor's orders and go home to start the process all over again next week.
I am not saying that I did the best job any care taker on Earth has ever done, but I did the best job I was capable of. There is some part of me somewhere that wants to feel relieved that he will be "contained" and yet all I feel is like I failed him.
I have known for some time that he selectively picked pills out of the pill planner I would fill for him to see if skipping this pill or that pill would make him feel better. It "had to be" that new pink pill that was making him feel too sleepy to go mow the grass at the American Legion today. So he would pick it out and flush it. I have stressed that this was bad for him. I even tried to get home nursing to help administer meds, but they couldn't tolerate his surly belligerence and discharged him from their care with little notes that said "do not take this client back" in his file.
He is feeling so much better now that he is in the nursing home because he is getting the right medicines at the right times including some medicines that I couldn't, in good conscious, have him on before because if he skipped them it would likely kill him (blood thinners for his artificial heart valve, GOOD heart arrhythmia medicine for his A fib, Aricept to help control his "bad mood days").
The fact that he is feeling so much better and acting like the man I knew 20 years ago is making HIM not want to be there even more and making ME doubt that it was the right decision. As he keeps feeling better and better, he is becoming less surly and more the pleasant "Pappy" I remember. It is so easy for me to forget how difficult he can be and feel like I should bring him back to his home.
I feel like I am going crazy. Like I need to be the one with the wrist band on milling around the halls mumbling, more than my grandfather does.