u/thatgirl1129

What the title says.
We’ve been trying for 2 years, have had 3 early miscarriages in that time, and a full work up through a fertility clinic. They basically said try again for 6 months, then highly recommended IVF after that due to my low AMH, and then my parent was put on hospice a few weeks after.

Initially we were told a few weeks for my parent’s prognosis, but it’s been 10 months. We put things on a pause this whole time but have now been told my parent’s passing could take months or years, so we decided to let go of the death grip on the metaphorical steering wheel, and here we are.

We wouldn’t necessarily be “celebrating” the positive test in the normal sense- recurrent loss robs you of most of the excitement, but leaving my husband at the airport this morning was more excruciating than any of the drop offs these past few months.

I don’t even want to tell my parents, because they’ve proven that a) they can’t keep a secret and will tell their friends, and b) don’t understand the realities of recurrent loss. I’d be managing their emotions while there more than managing my own.

So here I am, heading into 2 weeks of caregiving verrrry early in pregnancy. I’m so tired of the back and forth. I just can’t believe we’re still in this.

Dad’s heading into month 8 of hospice for Stage IV pancreatic cancer with lung mets. He also has mild/ moderate dementia.

He’s understandably anxious, frustrated, and depressed. We’ve noticed a shift recently where he seems to be pushing himself to be more independent than he has in the last 8 months combined. Normally we bring him any food/snacks he wants on request- lately he’s been getting his own food when we’re not looking, and getting angry when we ask him about it. Yesterday he wanted his gun to shoot a raccoon in the yard, and got angry that he was denied it. He got up and walked outside for the first time in months. He, unbeknownst to us, took a shower without anyone present in the home, despite someone being there to aid him since he went on hospice in the fall. It feels like he’s pushing boundaries and pushing back to maintain a sense of control, but I was curious if this is a pretty usual occurrence in the hospice journey, especially so far in.

Dad with moderate vascular dementia has been on hospice for 6 months due to Stage IV cancer. He was going through chemo for a few months (his decision), but after 10 straight days of stomach upset, fever, poor breathing, and having to be carried to the car to go to the ER, it was determined he maybe had weeks to live by the treating doctor. Mom brought him home, he said he wanted to discontinue treatment, and he was put on at-home hospice. Even if he wanted to continue chemo, with the state he was in, I don't think they would have taken him back.

Slowly, over the few weeks we thought we had with him, he improved, but for the first few weeks things were...rough. Bedside commode, hallucinations, sleeping all day. Just overall signs that we were swiftly moving into active dying. He's somehow made it to month 6 and is still with us, without the signs of active death.

He now seems to think that everyone said he was doing so bad, but he doesn't remember that, so it must not be true. He constantly questions us as to why he quit chemo, and when we say it was his choice, we get blamed for allowing him to. It's like he feels like we're rushing him out the door, or that he had options to continue. He said he was done. We went through what that meant. He chose.

I don't know how to deal with that, I guess? It's hard to think of him going out of this world thinking that we didn't fight for him all we can, but even if we could look at other options, he has a concurrent terminal diagnosis with the dementia... It's just a sucky situation all around.

I’ve taken a huge, uncomfortably long pause from derby for personal reasons, but I have to be honest and say that, before that I started to distance myself because I lost confidence in my gear. Three bouts where my truck popped out of my pivot cup (thanks Bont), where my team was embarrassingly left with one less person on the track while I had to unscrew my skates. Then it was time to replace my kneepads. One of my first rounds out with them, I fell, going for my usual slide. I’m fairly certain I briefly dislocated my kneecap because the new pads were more sticky (? I guess?) than my originals. I developed a fear of falling again, because my pads would stop me short and yank down on my kneecaps painfully.

Has this happened to anyone else? How can I get those dang kneepads to glide like butter again?

If I have one more professional tell me “I hope your Dad gets better,” or truly not understand what hospice means, I’m going to break down.
Emailed our fertility clinic basically saying “Dad’s surpassed his diagnosis, but we recognize our time is limited and we’d like to move forward with working with you” and got a response saying “That is SUCH great news about your dad!!” Babe. He’s dying.

Dentist asked why I hadn’t been using a water pik, explained I’d been away caring for my dad on hospice and got “Well it’s so great you’re back and can start using it again!”

Had to talk to Service Canada today about my Compassionate Care Leave (which you only get if someone’s at high risk and likely to pass in the next 6 months) and got “Hope he gets better soon!”

Like, I know death makes us uncomfortable naturally, but Jesus Christ on a cracker, can people just read the room?!

Flying back home today, after another two weeks with my Mom and Dad (on month 7 of hospice).
The past few visits, he had stopped coming out to the porch to say goodbye, and I've been silently grieving that small loss the past few months. Today, as we pulled away, there he was, blowing kisses and waving, telling us to be careful.

This has been the most painful, raw time of my life, but it'd be wrong to ignore the beautiful moments that pop up and surprise. That might have been the last time he did that for me, and I appreciated it all the more.

Just here to vent. Dad, on hospice, continues to make comments about what I'm putting in my mouth. You would think, in this journey, it would bring to light what's really important. I haven't even put on weight, I work out 6 days a week, and I've oscillated between the same 3 pounds since the beginning of this journey 8 months ago, which I think is saying something with the emotional stress we've all been under.

Today, I picked up an ice cream I loved that I used to dish out at the local small-town soda fountain. I didn't even have a half of a cup, and he asked "What are you eating now? That's fattening."

Picked up some pastries a few weeks ago, he ate a quarter, then a half, and then came in and said they thought it must be very fattening. When asked why he was worried about that, he said "I'm not, but you probably should be."

Had a well-earned glass of wine after a hard day, and he asked me if that was on my diet. I told him I use a tracker and logged it as a 3 oz glass of wine. He laughed and said "No way, that's not 3 oz." Had to physically weigh the wine in the glass in front of him to get him to leave me alone. I am exhausted, and now, insecure.

What a great bunch of extra time I'm getting with him, getting body shamed and all the joy sucked out of any of the food-related small pleasures I allow myself. My husband and I are trying for a baby and I don't want to even be pregnant in front of this man. I don't want the comments.

Looking for advice and feeling more and more lost.
Dad's a long way into his hospice journey (he just had to get recertified, he's been on it so long).
He keeps making comments that I have never been equiped to handle. Today he said he was tired, and I asked if I could do anything for him, and he looked at me with so much sadness and hurt and said "Just let me quit." Last night, as I tucked him in, he said we'd all be in a better place when he died. Then he made a face asking for a kiss. Every one feels like a slap in the face and leaves me reeling. The other night, frustrated before bed, he said "There has to be an easier way to die."

He needs to be able to speak freely, but hearing these things is killing me. How do you deal?

Dad’s been on hospice for pancan since September.

I was present for the first three months full time, but reside in another country and ran out of PTO. Because hospice was saying how stable he was, and that things could take a while yet, my family agreed it might work best for me to go back and forth every two weeks.

There were a few false alarms where I flew back early, but then once I was there Dad seemed to rebound and improve again. Once I leave, he has a few down days but then seems to level out.

I’m worried because I’m now going home for the month (with plans to return of course if things take a turn). I miss my partner and I haven’t been home for more than two weeks since Autumn. Friendships and responsibilities have been put on the back burner. My mom seems to think that dad bounces back when I’m present, and has commented that my leaving might make him feel like he can let go, but that causes me so much guilt because I feel like, by stepping away to live my life and get some normalcy, I’m indirectly making him go faster.

How do you deal with these comments and feelings? I’ve asked mom not to say this, because of the guilt and distress it causes me.