Placement, finally

Gentle readers, again another year has passed. Much has happened.

Last August, H was driving to an appointment at a nearby Dr's office that he had been to many times. He got confused, took the wrong route, left the road, and hit a utility pole at between 40 and 50 mph (we think). Thankfully, no one else was hurt, but H was critically injured. He was in a Miata and the pole hit the car just in front of the driver's door…he was lucky to live (maybe).

All of his limbs were broken, his lower back was broken, multiple facial and skull fractures, and a traumatic head injury to his forehead. He was unconscious in the ICU for almost two weeks, in the hospital for another 3 weeks, then off to a skilled nursing facility, where he has been since September.

Last December, I told him that he wasn't going to be coming home. I simply can't take care of him anymore…it is too much for me, too stressful. And the social workers won't discharge him home unless I have someone in the house when I am at work all day because he's not safe. And it costs too much to have someone at the house all the time.

So, he's in a facility with a bunch of seniors who are near or at end of life. It isn't the right place for H to be, but for now it works in that he is not at the house. We're working on another place for him, but it isn't easy to find assisted living for a 55 year old man.

As expected, H's family are up in arms, minimize his care needs/disability, and have pulled out the stops with guilt, shaming, anger, and pleading.

My emotions are all over the map, even months later, but I am gradually settling in to my new reality. I see him weekly and talk with him almost daily. But, no matter what, he cannot move back into the house.

And now, when I second guess my decision to place him, I read back through this blog and wonder how I managed to survive all those years.