As far as I know. After a miserable roller coaster of a day, the conclusion is that my parents aren't moving. We don't think. In the morning my mother told me to go ahead and get started on the paperwork, and by mid-afternoon was phoning me in incoherent terror about being moved to a place that we eventually figured out was a home for veterans with PTSD that she's just seen on tv. She thought Dad would turn into a soldier, or something, and everyone would be hitting each other? I'm not sure. And then my father pleaded with me not to make them move, and told me that Mum would be much worse if they did, and that what would happen if she wandered off?
And I yelled and cried at him and told him things are never ever going to get better, and they're bad now, and you can only manage staying home if you can do the cooking and the cleaning and make Mum take her medication. He said he could do most of that, and I said it wasn't happening now. Mum is partly off her meds and her memory is worsening and there have been moments when I think she's sliding into bipolar. And that would just be completely terrible.
So after work Geoff went over to their house, and had a very large fight with them about how we're terrified and they aren't coping, Dad is slowly, incrementally starving, and that we think they've made a bad decision. He also told them he'll be going over every evening after work to check on them, check if the have food, and count Mum's meds. They were understandably insulted. He said, "You can't reliably use the phone, and you won't move somewhere where people can keep an eye on you, so we are going to be checking."
We can't make them move, short of having them declared incompetent. We don't want to make them move, we want them to agree to do it. So now what we're faced with is waiting for the emergency. We don't know what it is, or when it will come, but eventually one of them will fall, badly (probably in winter)or they'll have a fight and start hitting and throwing things at each other, or Mum will leave the stove on and the house will burn, or she'll start wandering and need to be put in a locked ward immediately, . And we'll have to move Dad fast to any place we can find that's got openings.
And in the meantime, we sit and wait.
I am so sad and so angry- at them, at their diseases, and at our inability to help. I am exhausted and so scared that I am having minor fantasies of something manageable going wrong, so we can start the process and Geoff and I don't have to live in fear waiting, knowing that they're malnourished and off their medication. I've spent the entire last year trying to figure out how to help, and I thought I had a solution, and now it's gone. I want very badly to pull back and stop supporting and taking the terrified phone calls and providing the meals, but that would be anger, and they're my parents, and it's my duty to take care of them. I am just so sad.