Better for everyone.

I watch an Alzheimer care-giver from sort of a distance. She's a neighbor. Lives in the same block as me. And I give her an assist. By walking her father. Daily. He has Alzheimer's.  So does her mother. They both live with her. And her husband. For four years now. The situation ain't good. Because the parents are on a steady decline. Crazy things happen. For instance, last night her father picked up his supper plate and threw it on the floor. And today, when she wasn't watching, he wandered away. Twice. He's incontinent, too. Anyway, the care-giving is a mammoth task. Often driving one to tears and desperation. I observe. More or less from the sidelines. I've gone through this stuff before. As care-giver for my dear wife Jeanne for 13 years. I really didn't get a hold of myself until Jeanne went into a nursing home. For the last 38 months of her life. I was there. Daily. Didn't miss a day. But I went home. Every night. Got much-needed respite. But my neighbor doesn't get respite. Other than an hour or two here and there. She's exhausted. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. Wouldn't surprise me if she had a heart attack or a stroke or a nervous breakdown. She could die before her parents. From the stress of care-giving. Some would call her a saint. I'd call her foolish. For not taking better care of herself. Maybe it would be better if the parents went into assisted living. Better for everyone. --Jim Broede