It's Wednesday and already been a busy week. I stayed home with my daughter yesterday--she has a cold--but really, I needed some time to deal with the business of finding my dad a place to live after he moves out of my uncle's house. He had a heart attack and stroke and can't live alone. I'm finding out firsthand the stresses of taking care of aging parents (and I'm not even actually taking care of him...yet). So, lots of phone calls with my sisters and with health care professionals giving advice on assisted living facilities. It's a new world that we're going to have to learn to navigate. "MCI" mild cognitive impairment is the term of choice, apparently (don't utter the dreaded "Alzheimer's" until an actual diagnosis is given), because that ramps up the costs. It's heartbreaking to think of my dad living in a "home" when part of me would love to take him in, but our cold, drafty Victorian flat really isn't the place for him, as hard as it is for me to admit that. In most of the world, our place would be considered palatial, and could probably house several generations, but I'm forced to admit my own limitations. My days and weeks are already filled to bursting with work, childcare, housework, commuting, and my marriage already suffers from the lack of time. Moving my 73-year old dad in would not help any of this. I love him, but I have to think about myself and my husband, too. I hope we can do the right thing for him, I really do.