Install cameras. I mentioned earlier about a friend that I helped install the cameras in her mom's house. The mom had a stroke but was active and in good health otherwise. The cameras and good neighbors helped keep her in her house for a couple of years longer than she would have been able to stay in the family home. I commented on the beer and ice cream for breakfast, that was the funny story. "Mom" was rolling in the trash can one morning, stumbled, and then went head first into the can. She wasn't seriously injured, skinned knees and a few bruises, called one of the neighbors who helped mom get out of the garbage can and into the house. My friend only lived an hour and change away, fortunately not 6 hours. When she shows up an hour and a half later and asks her mom if she's ok. Her mom replies with, I'm good but my knee hurts. When asked why her knee hurts the mom says "I don't know". Without the cameras they would not have known there was a problem until one of the neighbors noticed something wrong and called. Eventually the mom was moved to a home because of her memory problems were slowly getting worse. The good and bad was that by then her memory was to the point that after a few weeks she settled into the new place without to much grief of being forced out of the family home. My friend also had siblings and family that helped with the camera monitoring and frequent visits.

Unfortunately, at some point you will have to make a hard decision that they are not going to like. There will be many other things that come up between now and then and I hope that you have support from others in the family that can help shoulder the load. Enlist your children into helping too, remind them that this is training for when you get old.

Well, there's the challenge. I live far away. I have a lot of obligations where I live, for my family, my community. I can't live where my parents live...here's my life lately.


Camera goes wavy...flashback montage to early 2022...phone call in the dark...dad gravely ill...driving a dark interstate in the middle of the night....dad's in an ambulance...at hospital...moved to bigger hospital...massive surgery underway...mom's prior strokes make it impossible for her to manage house...so much drama and tears...day...night...day...night...but wait! remarkable recovery...but there will be challenges at home...etc etc etc etc...

During all this:

After 114 (yes, one-hundred-fourteen) phone calls, I found three qualified home care agencies, did a LOT of background checks and referral checks on the company, the management, the health care aides, etc. A LOT of checking.

When dad came home from hospital, I stayed with them at the house for a while, worked to establish the cadence of what the in-home aide did for their 8 hours a day until things were there all flowing well...and went home.

THREE DAYS LATER - I'm working home at my desk...my phone rings.

"We sent the aide home."

"WHAT???!!! Was there a problem? What happened??"

"We just don't want anyone in our house. We don't like it."

"BUT...BUT...they are there to help out with chores and stuff...and driving...and if you fall..."

"We're not having anyone in this house who we don't want here. That's final."

Fortunately, I keep instant ice-packs in my first aid kits, so the bruises on my forehead weren't too bad, but my desk sustained some damage.

Sigh.
I did EXACTLY THIS for mom and dad. A wonderful big whiteboard in the kitchen, with clearly color-coded stuff (blue checklists for dad, red checklists for mom), all of the doctor's phone numbers, a calendar with all of the things that need to happen in the upcoming weeks.

Dad didn't like the way it looked, and mom forgot to look at it anyway, so they took it down after I left.

There's an old saying. You can lead a horse to water but can't make it drink. When parents hit this stage you can't even lead them to water without a ruckus. They get stubborn. Sounds you are doing all of the right things and I wish you well.

I know you are being rational and explaining what needs to happen to them. It doesn't work. When my dad was still alive he had reached the stage of limited mobility, had to use a walker or wheelchair. He didn't want to use either, because he felt that he didn't need to. Until he fell and then wanted someone to pick him up. Mom would want to help but couldn't pick him up, I would ask where his walker was and why wasn't he using it. I don't need it would be the reply, of course it always made him mad when I said then how did you wind up on the floor this time. His walker had several horizontal bars on each side, I would brace it and tell him to pull himself up and get on his feet. He would refuse and tell me to pick him up. It really made him mad when I said that I can't because you significantly out weight me and that his current choices are climb up the walker or I'm calling the paramedics to pick you up, then you get to go for a ride to the ER, once there you will probably get to go to the rehab place for about a month before you can come back home. He would yell and tell me that I can't do that and that I should get out of his house. I would reply with you can't do anything because you're on the floor and can't get up. Somewhere through this he would get mad enough to climb up the walker and within a few minutes he would forget the whole thing happened. We played this game several times a week... I always thought I was smarter than my siblings for not getting married.. Guess who moved in with the old people.

Having said that, me being able to do that meant that mom was able to keep dad at home longer than she would have been able to without me here. I'm also not saying this to make you think that you need to move in with them either, no guilt or implications are intended. I'm still living at home with my 83 year old mom. I can see her slow down a little. She's doing well and still driving, my brother, his wife, and myself ride along with her often enough to keep an eye on her driving abilities. But earlier today we were talking and she even talked about how as we age we get a lot more stubborn. I whole heartedly agreed.

I already did after I graduated college the first time. The man that built the house built a two bed/two bath upstairs and one bed one bath downstairs including kitchens and garages on both levels except for laundry and HVAC. Before my stepdad passed away in 09, I'd see them on laundry day or when I stopped through to check the mail.

It's hard to see parents decline...and not have much support to call on.
When my mother was in the beginning stages of Alzheimer's, needed someone to look after her, and I had been appointed her conservator, she became very disagreeable. I knew that this was partly the disease, and partly just her personality. I put up with it as long as I could, until the day she screamed at me that she didn't want me to be her conservator anymore. I told her that the court said that she had to have one, that I was the only one in the family who was willing to do it, and had volunteered. Since I volunteered, I could quit at anytime, she would become a ward of the state, and live in a white tile room like "One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest". She remembered that movie, looked horrified, and immediately modified her behavior.
As the disease progressed, she became a perfectly lovely person to be around.

My mother was very independant, so it was hard for me seeing her in bed and my sister feeding her.

Her father died while he was preparing breakfast for himself.
Never accepted to be served by anyone.

When these people fall, its heart-breaking