John was in a Care Home for 7 months, and I can completely empathise and sympathise with every post. Things go missing, clothes seem creased, loved ones are criticised, hurtful and hateful accusations are made, and rivers of tears are shed. Umpteen pairs of glasses disappeared, as did watches (all cheap).
But ....... it's easier than caring at home, 24/7, especially if you've been doing it single handedly for yonks. And I could get some sleep. Are you happy that your loved one is safe? Are they treated with patience and kindness? Are other residents treated the same? Is it warm? Does the food seem nourishing and plentiful?
It took me over a decade to accept that John wasn't raging at me, but rather at his illness. Actually, I might have accepted it, but it didn't stop me feeling hurt, angry, bitter, envious of other people who didn't have these problems in their lives, and crying nearly every day.
But, my goodness, the love, care and support I had, and still have, from TP helped me get through Yet Another Day. I don't think I could have coped without it, and when times were bad, the cyber hugs were priceless.
I was, and still am, a great believer in Alzheimer Lies. John thought he was in a hotel and when he told me that he was doing the accounts, or admin work, I said that this was because he was so efficient, and was in lieu of me paying expensive hotel costs.
Of course, he never did this work, no more was he travelling up to London to his old job, and paying half a crown for his ticket, but I assured him he was being paid by his firm. When he asked, in the first few months, to come home, I invented home renovations that would be too messy for him to live in.
Yes, I lied, and I hated myself for doing it, but it became second nature, and it kept John happy, and that's what mattered.