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I could use some advice, or even just other points of view, regarding my parents. They both turned 80 last year, and have lately made certain ill-advised lifestyle decisions. My siblings are in no position to help, and distant family is distant. If any family is going to help them, it falls to me. And I'm not sure what I should do.
Executive summary:
Contrary to agreed-on plans to sell their apartment house at a fair value and move permanently to Florida, they dumped it and bought another house. Both they and the new house look awful, and I begin to worry for their well-being. I have no knowledge or experience in caring for elderly but willful parents. Any thoughts or advice would be most welcome.
More details:
As far as I knew, my parents' plan for a goodly while involved selling their apartment building in Fairfield, Maine, where they have landlorded since 2000, and then permanently retiring to Florida. I actively helped insofar as I connected them with a local realtor, and helped them assemble a collection of property photographs. That this was their last adventure in cold New England was never in doubt.
But then, over the winter holidays, they decided essentially overnight to dump the house for a pittance, and immediately buy another, tiny house in nearby Oakland. By the time I learned about this, everything was already in motion, and I felt more resigned about it than moved to somehow intervene. They moved at the start of this month.
Amy and I visited them last weekend. It's pretty awful. The house lies on a lakeshore and the view is nice, but to get there one must barge through a hilly, unpaved road, the valleys of which were filled with tire-slogging mud that day even though it hadn't rained lately. The building itself is a mess; a cottage, basically, stuffed haphazardly with their things, boxes stacked high, inside and out. One bathroom wall doesn't quite reach the ceiling. The house has no basement, and one corner of the building's exterior rests atop on a wooden stilt which itself stands without any apparent fixture on a concrete slab.
My parents don't look well. Amy and I found their appearance and behavior shocking, as if they'd aged ten years or more since we last saw them. During our visit my mom never put pants on over her long johns, and I was sad to see that her dentures were falling apart, giving her several prominently missing (false) teeth. My dad didn't even bother putting in his own teeth, and despite being genuinely overjoyed to see us, fell asleep partway into our short stay. The lunch mom served us took the form of plates of gray meat and stale bread, with condiments ranging from flavored applesauce to shrink-wrapped fajita vegetables. The plates were full of water. Nobody knew why.
It did rain as we sped back home on I-95 the next day. This put Amy into the mind of wondering what that road's like now, and how able my father is to navigate it; he's had one car accident so far earlier this year, before the move, and mom doesn't drive.
I haven't thought about it much because they're far away, and caring for the elderly had never ranked large on my family's priorities. I had only one grandparent whose lifetime overlapped with my own, and to the best of my knowledge she simply lived in her own house until she died one day; however that happened, it was 20 years ago, and my parents didn't seem especially involved. Similarly, while my parents have set up legal structures to give me power of attorney in the event of their own passing, the only plans they had for their sunset years amounted to "go someplace warm". I was willing to trust them to see that through, because of their love for Florida, which they do still manage to visit annually. But here now they've messed it up.
They get along because their will still burns so brightly, and they have no problem finding people to help them; their little property was littered with tools and equipment from whatever dudes they have over during the week to fix things up. But I think they may have gone too far this time. This location's terrain is poor to the point of treacherous, and makes me worry about what sort of property they intend to buy in Florida, to say nothing of them undertaking the whole adventure of house-hunting all the way down there.
Before this visit, I was of a mind that their life is their own, no matter how old and, alas, age-infirm they are. There are few activities they love more than buying and selling houses — this has been true my whole life — and if that's how they want to spend all their days to the very last, maybe I should let them. But this last visit really broke my heart away from hardening like this, especially with Amy there to provide an objective view about how quite dreadful the whole situation looked.
So here I am, honestly unsure what, if anything, I ought to do. Ricky and Peter and Janice all exist, but they all carry burdens of their own and can't help in any ways other than the most short-term; none can assist with deeper plans or ideas. With my dad mostly tuned out, mom's gregarious battiness drives my parents' path, and it kind of stinks, but it's what they've chosen. I don't wish to treat them like children, or something. And otherwise I don't have much sense for what's appropriate, since lack of grandparents or extended family means that this just isn't something I've been exposed to before.
I would deeply appreciate any thoughts or insight from those wiser than me on this matter.
Executive summary:
Contrary to agreed-on plans to sell their apartment house at a fair value and move permanently to Florida, they dumped it and bought another house. Both they and the new house look awful, and I begin to worry for their well-being. I have no knowledge or experience in caring for elderly but willful parents. Any thoughts or advice would be most welcome.
More details:
As far as I knew, my parents' plan for a goodly while involved selling their apartment building in Fairfield, Maine, where they have landlorded since 2000, and then permanently retiring to Florida. I actively helped insofar as I connected them with a local realtor, and helped them assemble a collection of property photographs. That this was their last adventure in cold New England was never in doubt.
But then, over the winter holidays, they decided essentially overnight to dump the house for a pittance, and immediately buy another, tiny house in nearby Oakland. By the time I learned about this, everything was already in motion, and I felt more resigned about it than moved to somehow intervene. They moved at the start of this month.
Amy and I visited them last weekend. It's pretty awful. The house lies on a lakeshore and the view is nice, but to get there one must barge through a hilly, unpaved road, the valleys of which were filled with tire-slogging mud that day even though it hadn't rained lately. The building itself is a mess; a cottage, basically, stuffed haphazardly with their things, boxes stacked high, inside and out. One bathroom wall doesn't quite reach the ceiling. The house has no basement, and one corner of the building's exterior rests atop on a wooden stilt which itself stands without any apparent fixture on a concrete slab.
My parents don't look well. Amy and I found their appearance and behavior shocking, as if they'd aged ten years or more since we last saw them. During our visit my mom never put pants on over her long johns, and I was sad to see that her dentures were falling apart, giving her several prominently missing (false) teeth. My dad didn't even bother putting in his own teeth, and despite being genuinely overjoyed to see us, fell asleep partway into our short stay. The lunch mom served us took the form of plates of gray meat and stale bread, with condiments ranging from flavored applesauce to shrink-wrapped fajita vegetables. The plates were full of water. Nobody knew why.
It did rain as we sped back home on I-95 the next day. This put Amy into the mind of wondering what that road's like now, and how able my father is to navigate it; he's had one car accident so far earlier this year, before the move, and mom doesn't drive.
I haven't thought about it much because they're far away, and caring for the elderly had never ranked large on my family's priorities. I had only one grandparent whose lifetime overlapped with my own, and to the best of my knowledge she simply lived in her own house until she died one day; however that happened, it was 20 years ago, and my parents didn't seem especially involved. Similarly, while my parents have set up legal structures to give me power of attorney in the event of their own passing, the only plans they had for their sunset years amounted to "go someplace warm". I was willing to trust them to see that through, because of their love for Florida, which they do still manage to visit annually. But here now they've messed it up.
They get along because their will still burns so brightly, and they have no problem finding people to help them; their little property was littered with tools and equipment from whatever dudes they have over during the week to fix things up. But I think they may have gone too far this time. This location's terrain is poor to the point of treacherous, and makes me worry about what sort of property they intend to buy in Florida, to say nothing of them undertaking the whole adventure of house-hunting all the way down there.
Before this visit, I was of a mind that their life is their own, no matter how old and, alas, age-infirm they are. There are few activities they love more than buying and selling houses — this has been true my whole life — and if that's how they want to spend all their days to the very last, maybe I should let them. But this last visit really broke my heart away from hardening like this, especially with Amy there to provide an objective view about how quite dreadful the whole situation looked.
So here I am, honestly unsure what, if anything, I ought to do. Ricky and Peter and Janice all exist, but they all carry burdens of their own and can't help in any ways other than the most short-term; none can assist with deeper plans or ideas. With my dad mostly tuned out, mom's gregarious battiness drives my parents' path, and it kind of stinks, but it's what they've chosen. I don't wish to treat them like children, or something. And otherwise I don't have much sense for what's appropriate, since lack of grandparents or extended family means that this just isn't something I've been exposed to before.
I would deeply appreciate any thoughts or insight from those wiser than me on this matter.