Even the best ones

I felt such despair.

My mother was there, but her mind was not. And so I had to “find a place”.

My own home was not an option. My husband and I both worked. Our daughter was in middle school. And my husband was a screaming, abusive mess.

I had to find a place.

Even “the best ones” are horrific, from the standpoint of an adult’s losing all agency. I am NOT referring to those like my mother, who had intractable Alzheimer’s the last 10+ years of her life — eight of those in a nursing home because she could no longer walk…