My father was screaming in the nursing home. My mother was a teacher, a feisty, adventuresome, brave woman. But the day to day care is still about seventy-five percent mine and twenty-five percent my dear husband's. She asks the same questions over and over and over again. I feel guilty for the anger I feel inside and the impatience I have towards her. I always would just say that she was forgetful and then as time went on I added the word confused. One sister takes care of Mom's medical and financial matters.
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