Living with your parents

I'm sure many folks here know how this goes, and have a lot of frustrations associated with living with your folks during treatment. Mine lived with me for part of my treatment, when I was unable to get around on my own. I did eventually improve enough that I could manage that stuff on my own, so my parents made their way back home.

Well, I find myself living with my parents now...again...and it has nothing to do with treatment. Which makes it even more frustrating, I think.

I finished grad school, and my wife got a new job in a new state. So we've relocated. Coincidentally, it's to Indiana, where I grew up. We own a home in Texas, and it's now been on the market for a year. We haven't been able to sell it. It's been difficult just to get bodies in the door. It's a beautiful home. Brand new construction when we bought it, and we did a lot of work outside to make it look nice. We kept it immaculately clean inside, which I think was a big reason I didn't have problems with infections while I was going through treatment.

My parents' house, OTOH, is a disaster, and it's driving my wife and I to insanity.

The house was built in the 60's, and my parents bought it in the early 90's, IIRC. It hadn't really been updated since then. Still had almost all of the original shag carpet, brown vinyl floors, the hideous appliances, everything. My parents started as soon as they moved in with fixing it up. Problem is, they stopped trying to fix it up in the mid 90's and haven't touched it since. They haven't even painted since then. It's falling apart and I'm losing it.

My wife and I are trying really hard to figure out how we can afford to move out without selling our house in Texas. We might be able to pull it off, as I just got a part time job and my wife got a relocation that's looking like it will translate into quite a promotion soon.

Comments

  • 3 Comments sorted by Votes Date Added
  • ShyBFlyShyBFly Community Member
    I've been trying to figure out a way to move back out since before I moved in. I was only diagnosed on Jan 31 and I moved in out of necessity after surgery. It's been a month and it's already driving me up the wall. Just the lack of freedom (I can't drive during treatment), and the constant feeling of guilt from being "lazy". I offered to pay rent but my stepdad refused, just saying I could help out around the house instead. Which would be great normally, but I'm exhausted. Their kitchen in still being remodeled and we're doing dishes in the bathroom sink. The laundry is in the garage and the machine is so space age it takes me a while to ever figure out the settings. Plus, every once in a while, I realize my mom has been in my room doing whatever to "help me get organized". Oh my gosh, smothering. I just don't have the energy to explain without offending them somehow. But I don't know how I can get a job yet...I have to just get through this radiation crap so I can't think straight again.I seriously miss my apartment.
  • When I mentioned that my parents stopped working on this place in the mid-90's, I wasn't kidding. None of the kitchen cabinets have doors. Some aren't even hung yet. The upstairs bathroom (the only one with a shower) has a bunch of naked drywall. The shower leaks to the point that you have to turn off the water valves that are inside the wall, and it still drips. The floor is bare plywood and has to be covered by rugs.

    The ORIGINAL brown shag carpet is STILL in the formal living and dining rooms. With 50yrs of dog pee. The paint in those rooms is so old it's flaking off. There's a hole in the ceiling from the leaky bathroom pipes above.

    What kills me most, however, is that the house is FULL of CRAP. My mother has a million side tables all over the place (to the point that she has extras stacked in the attic spaces), and tons of old bird cages. There's a ton of knick-knacky clutter junk everywhere. And the small rooms are busting at the seams with big furniture.

    My parents sleep in the living room downstairs...so it's almost impossible to do normal things in the kitchen...like cooking or cleaning.

    And my father HAS to be the worst roommate ever. He does not lift a finger in the house. No help with dishes, or vacuuming, or laundry, or any of that. But if his garage has one thing out of place he raises hell. He makes my mother prepare all of his meals. And she can't eat ANY of it, because she's celiac and also has serious sensitivities to ANY simple carbs (sugars and starches). He won't cook his own food, aside from pouring a bowl of cereal or microwaving some egg whites. When he's here, the stress level rises substantially.

    He does really irritating and inconsiderate stuff, too. He's been having problems with the stump that remains of his leg after a motorcycle crash that require him to spend a lot of time in a wheelchair unable to wear his prosthesis. Because this house has a lot of tight spaces that make it difficult to get around in a wheelchair, he made some modifications to help himself get to the bathroom. It makes total sense, right? The big thing he did was remove the door on the half bath on the first floor so he could wheel his chair up to it. The problem occurs because he didn't put a new door on. It's open to anyone walking by, who doesn't need to see him pooping. We had to get my mother to put up a curtain. Ugh.

    So ready to get out. I am really hoping that we'll be able to afford a place with my wife's pay raise and the income from my part time job even though we already have a mortgage.
  • mixtapemixtape Community Member
    parents! I was just in the middle of planning to move out on my own when I was diagnosed. I spent the first month in the hospital, then another month or so lodged nearby (we lived too far from the hospital where I was being treated, and my doctors wouldn't let me be that far away in case of an emergency). During that time I wanted SO badly just to go home, but when I finally got the chance to, I just wanted to run back to the safety and sterility of the hospital. My parents knew I was severely immuno-compromised and needed things extra clean, but they just couldn't get the hang of it (eg my step-dad was also very sick at the time with a couple of things, and he was really bad at remembering to wash his hands, so I felt like I couldn't touch anything in my own house). I pretty much spent all my time at home in my room, just waiting to get back to my room at the lodge. It's frustrating, when you get so used to being hyper-vigilant about sanitation, that it feels impossible to be back around something that used to once be at least bearable.

    And now that sterility doesn't matter that much any more, I've finally moved out haha. It was probably a bad financial decision, but I think it was worth it emotionally. I hope you and your wife find a solution soon, and that in the meantime your parents don't drive you absolutely bonkers. (Your dad sounds SO MUCH like my step-dad, it's uncanny! I really sympathize with you.)