While he's in his house, he's the man he used to be. Going to assisted living, he acknowledges he's old and waiting for the end.

Steph, something else to consider about moving someone into assisted living. My mom fought it like tigers, for a very long time. She had a combination psychological and physical incident where she literally couldn't be supported at home, and was hospitalized. Her doctor refused to release her to home care, and the decision was taken out of her hands by his releasing her to a rehab facility.

It was easier to help her believe "the doctor said" she wasn't able to live at home any longer, especially since we knew she would fight, bait, and sabotage any carer we hired in order to get rid of them. She adapted quickly to assisted living, enjoying the last year of her life immensely. But if the decision had been ours, she would have fought and resented it forever. And she would never, ever have made the decision herself. Sometimes having the choice removed makes it easier to adjust.

Sometimes having the choice removed makes it easier to adjust.

Yes, all Mom's trips to rehab were met with great resistance, but her doctor would not release her to home until certain physical thresholds were met.

It is an extremely hard balance to strike when dealing with letting adults have control over their own lives and making them do what is in their best interest.

My perception is that they feel like they're walking a fine line between wanting to respect his autonomy and wanting to make the decision to go with assisted living because he can't (or won't) make that decision.

I was trying to be pre-emptive. Dad was still in good health, but mom was declining. Dad had been a Mason for most of his adult life, and there's an amazing masonic facility about 45 minutes from where I live. Basically you buy a house/condo there, and there is on-site care, and it can ramp up from non-assited, to pretty much full assistance as needed. I'd been having gentle talk with my dad for quite a few years about the fact that they lived in a relatively rural setting, without a large support network, and mom was needing more and more care and he was being the primary caregiver with some hired assistance. Finally about a year before he died he'd made the decision and put in a deposit (It was about a 2 year waiting list) and they were schedule to move and things were starting to get into place, but he'd dragged his feet for years, and I took his lead. For him is was a fiscal decision, very low taxes on their huge house because of Prop 13, and things like that.

When he died suddenly, mom dug in her heels and demanded the deposit back, and refused to even consider moving, and my sister backed that play and moved in with her in San Diego, and well, most of you know the rest.

I still live feeling that if I'd pushed harder sooner, they would have been moved, and they would have been an easy 45 minute drive away. I'd have been the primary relative, not my sister, and mom's declining years wouldn't have been what they ended up being.

I was trying to be pre-emptive.

That's really important. Tim's dad is in fairly good overall health for a man of 80 -- no chronic diseases (heart disease, diabetes, hypertension, cancer, etc.). The medical issues he has going on now are minor in the big scheme of things (though if they were left untreated they could become very problematic). So while he's in relatively good health and good spirits, getting him moved would be ideal.

I still live feeling that if I'd pushed harder sooner, they would have been moved, and they would have been an easy 45 minute drive away. I'd have been the primary relative, not my sister, and mom's declining years wouldn't have been what they ended up being.

That has to be frustrating to live with, Drew. I'm sorry.

Drew, I'm so sorry. That must be so hard.

But if the decision had been ours, she would have fought and resented it forever. And she would never, ever have made the decision herself. Sometimes having the choice removed makes it easier to adjust.

This, for sure.

I'm so sorry Drew.

Completely unrelated: one of my coworkers is converting her St. Patrick's Day decorations to Easter decorations, and it has awakened the temptation for me to daub the lintels of my cubicle with fake blood for Passover. I'm guessing that would not go over well, but it's a pleasant little daydream.

That sucks, Drew. I've been trying to discuss with my parents but they're both a bit hoard-y and have lived in the same house for 30 years. So they've visited a number of local retirement places but don't want to pull the trigger on anywhere...and my mom was like "it just seems so overwhelming" and I had to say it would t be any less overwhelming if one of them (or both of them) was sick or injured and THEN they had to do it. Because they know my sister and I would just drive a dumpster up to the house and start filling it.

Hitting 50 has triggered a lot of contemplation on age on my part. It's hard to know people are preparing to package up your life for disposal, to know you're classified as "A problem to be dealt with" and not "Fully contributing member of society who is master of their own life." I listen to the ads on TV and the radio, and I know I am irrelevant to advertisers, except in cases of incontinence, general decrepitude, and funeral arrangements. Oh, and maybe the occasional expensive vacation, if I happen to be older and wealthy. The fun ads are aimed at people 20 years younger than me. I resent them. I resent having my life and experiences shuffled off the cycle of relevance.

I'm grateful that I was able to convert my life to a stripped-down version while I'm still young enough to handle these things on my own. I'm young enough to build something relevant for the next 15 to 20 years, before I become a situation to be dealt with.

None of this is of any help on coping with aging parents, though. I am selfishly grateful that I was spared the decisions for my own parents. I have deep sympathy for the people who have to deal with this. Transitional stages of life are hard.