“I Can’t Take It Anymore: Where Can I Place My Elderly Father?”

I can’t take it anymore. I thought I could manage, but now I’m completely drained. Let me share my story with you.

I’m the youngest of three siblings. My father had us later in life, but it didn’t affect our upbringing or health. When Dad turned 75, he started showing signs of dementia. At first, it was just small things—forgetting where he put his keys or missing a doctor’s appointment. But over time, it got worse. Much worse.

My older sister lives across the country, and my brother is always traveling for work. That left me, the youngest, to take care of Dad. I thought I could handle it. After all, how hard could it be? I was wrong.

At first, it was manageable. I would visit him every day after work, make sure he had dinner, and help him with his medications. But as his condition deteriorated, he needed more and more care. He started wandering off in the middle of the night, forgetting who I was, and becoming increasingly agitated and aggressive.

I tried to balance my job and taking care of Dad, but it became impossible. My boss was understanding at first, but as my performance slipped, so did his patience. I started taking more and more time off work until I eventually lost my job.

Without a steady income, things got even harder. I couldn’t afford to hire a professional caregiver, and my savings were quickly dwindling. My siblings offered emotional support but were unable to provide any practical help. They had their own lives and families to take care of.

One night, Dad wandered off again. I found him hours later, confused and scared, miles away from home. That was the breaking point for me. I realized I couldn’t do this alone anymore.

I started looking into nursing homes and assisted living facilities, but the costs were astronomical. The ones that were affordable had terrible reviews and horror stories from other families. I felt trapped and hopeless.

I reached out to social services for help, but the waiting lists were long, and the process was slow. Every day felt like an eternity as I watched my father slip further away from reality.

One particularly bad day, Dad didn’t recognize me at all. He thought I was a stranger trying to hurt him and lashed out violently. I ended up with a black eye and a broken heart.

I knew then that I had to make a decision, no matter how painful it was. I found a state-run facility that could take him in immediately. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the only option left.

The day I took him there was the hardest day of my life. He didn’t understand what was happening and kept asking when we were going home. I had to lie to him, telling him it was just for a little while.

Now, every time I visit him, he seems more lost than before. The guilt eats away at me daily, but I know I did what I had to do. My siblings still call occasionally to check on him, but they don’t understand the weight of the decision I had to make.

I wish there were a happy ending to this story, but there isn’t. My father is still in that facility, and I’m still struggling with the emotional and financial fallout of those years of caregiving.

If you’re in a similar situation, know that you’re not alone. It’s okay to ask for help and to admit that you can’t do it all by yourself. Sometimes, there are no perfect solutions—only the best ones we can find in an imperfect world.