So here's the thing: no one can afford the care Hugh needs.
He needs full-time, professional care. Compassionate. Trained. Licensed. Specialized. Patient. Not here. Not his wife.
None of us here know how his brain is firing. We don't know why he'll react lucidly one moment, and quite literally babble the next. We don't know if he'll hurt someone, or himself. But we do know that this craziness has taken its toll on my mother-in-law, who looks five years older than she did five months ago.
I took a sick day on Thursday and checked out care facilities. The most expensive one was $4700+. The cheapest one was the one we're hoping to get him into. For $2,895 he'll get a shared room, round-the-clock care, and a nice garden to walk in in Dixon.
That is a huge amount of money. She's been trying to sell her house for about two years--and since it was way over-priced, and in the boonies, it didn't sell. She's brought the price down recently, so if you're looking for a well-built home in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada, here's a bargain (I bet you could knock a bunch of $$ off it).
What have I learned from all of this? If I make it to age 50 I need to invest in Long Term Care Insurance, because the VA only kincks in up to $1,500, Medicare/Medicaid chips in nada. What will she do if she doesn't sell that damn house?