Hello
I’ve been a member for a little while, mainly reading and taking comfort reading others stories so sometimes feeling less of a monster :-/
My dad has stage 4 lung cancer, diagnosed August last year aged 71. He was still working as a long distance lorry driver, spending weekends at his static caravan / mine in the winter when the site closed, since separating from his wife 18 months before, due to her infidelity.
On diagnosis, and having to give up work, my sister and I were terrified he’d go back to his vile ex wife as he was technically homeless, so I very rashly said move in with me. (probably should have discussed this with my partner beforehand…)
My sister has 2 autistic kids, one with learning difficulties and complex eating disorder, leading to hospitalisation twice this year so she’s more than enough on her plate
Dad’s brother took 9 months to die from the same diagnosis, 12 years earlier. Hence me wanting to give my dad love and comfort in his final months, thinking it was a final few months I’d be caring.
Turns out immunotherapy is a bit of a miracle drug. Here we are, 16 months later… All tumours reduced. Life expectancy - who knows.
My partner of 9 years moved out new years eve last year. We split up in March. I had no idea how hugely manipulative and selfish my dad is. How do we not know our parents to this extent? (or is it just me who was clueless?)
I’m now paying a fortune in rent for me and dad to live in his dream bungalow in his preferred location. (joint tenancy at agents insistence)
I’m lucky in a lot of respects. Dad’s mobile to a degree, he potters about the bungalow, uses buses with his electric wheelchair. Takes himself off to visit friends / family / the ex wife… He is perfectly able to be left alone so I clear off to visit my son / other family and friends most weekends. (having said that, if I go away, he stays with his ex wife as he hates being alone) I’m hugely aware I get breaks most carers can only dream of.
I’ve scraped together a deposit to buy a house of my own, a little 2 up 2 down in my ideal location but such a house would be impossible for dad who has osteoporosis due to the treatment and can’t manage stairs. He’d also hate to live where I want to be. So I can’t buy a house while I’m caring for dad, and at 45, time isn’t on my side mortgage wise.
Earlier this month my partner and I reconciled, on a long distance basis as he returned home to the south coast when we split up, I’m in the Midlands. I’ll be visiting him for a weekend, 2-3 times a month although goodness knows how that’ll pan out in the future if I can’t get away at weekends.
Some days I feel overwhelming resentment. My dad’s life choices left him practically homeless , no savings, static caravan with loan bigger than its value and working full time when he was diagnosed at 71. (static caravan now handed back to the HP company)
And here I am, picking up the pieces. Giving him a standard of living he’d never be able to provide for himself. Working full time in a very demanding job (working from home with flexible hours thank goodness) and juggling taking him to treatment every 3 weeks and regular appointments with the 3 consultants he’s under for oncology, steroid dependance and osteoporosis. Putting on hold my life, buying my home, spending Christmas with dad rather than my partner (who now cannot stand to be near my dad, and to be honest I can’t blame him after some of my dad’s antics)
Then well meaning people tell me how blessed I am to have the opportunity to spend this time with my dad before he dies. How I should cherish the memories we can make
(a snapshot of how we are poles apart - I’m vegan. His favourite TV programme which he never misses is about Alaska survival hunters with each episode featuring something being caught / shot / skinned in full technicolour glory)
So I spend my days feeling guilty for kicking myself for being stuck in this situation. Resentful that my life’s on hold until he dies. Terrified for the future: if his needs increase as I work from home and he lives with me = social services dream situation and terribly difficult to wrestle help from them, from what I see.
I contacted my employer provided mental health services and they said I needed ongoing counselling (they only provide 6 weeks), I should contact my gp / speak to macmillan.
Macmillan said nothing much they can do to meet my needs, I should self refer to gp mental health services.
Self referred. Cried for most of the phone assessment. They said I needed ongoing counselling but could offer only limited (can’t remember of it was 6 or 12 weeks) and there’s an 18 month waiting list while I’m not threatening to harm myself /dad.
So because I’m not threat to life crisis point and they can’t fix me in 6/12 weeks, I’m now off their books too.
Have come to the conclusion that I need to pay for private counselling. I’ve read a lot on this site from Bowlingbun’s contributions about how important its been, so I think I need to do it before going bonkers.
Where to start? How do you find a good counsellor?
Sorry its been a bit of an outpouring when the actual question probably was just the last paragraph. I think it’s just that I sometimes need to get it off my chest!
Thanks
