December Chills

It's December 15th and Christmas is almost here. We had a bad winter storm come over Portland and the north coast this week, so I didn't drive to the beach for the usual weekend break. Instead, I stayed home with mom and dad and made holiday cards in between the usual caregiving duties.
It's good that my dad and I are a team because caring for someone with advance Alzheimer's is way too much work and intensity for one person. As a team, we tag off when the other runs out of patience.
Sometimes though, you just run out of juice. Even though you love the person, something inside you gets so tapped out, I don't know how to describe it.
Me, I get anxious when I don't get a break after so many days. That's why the drive to the beach is so important. I get to exercise, meditate, look at the waves, watch the surfers and get lost in deep sleep. Even talking to the neighbors, or sweeping pine needles off the driveway is a golden reprieve.
My Mom is restless. She wants to get out of bed and into the wheelchair and be taken to the kitchen table. We offer her liquids, healthy snacks, and try to keep her with us awhile, but soon as she gets to the table she wants to go back to her bed. And so it goes. This is where we start to wear thin on patience, because we can't seem to make her comfortable in either location. So we dance. Back and forth all day from bedroom to kitchen. We've worn a path in the carpet and nicked the doorways so badly with the wheelchair that the wood trim will one day need to be replaced. It's not important, just a side effect of having an old wheelchair in a house not designed for one.
My dad is suffering with depression. He thinks this is now his lot in life, and that putting my mom in a home would be "acting like a cold fish". He thinks God has forgotten him. He doesn't see the joys of the day. He can't recognize a nice hot meal, a flower, a day when mom is smiling as a simple joy. He is quite miserable. I've tried talking to him about getting away, seeing someone, walking, socializing, etc. But, he's angry and stuck in his darkness. So my suggestions are irritating and Pollyanna-ish.
Dad won't let us ask for outside help even though we've qualified for Hospice.
Its very frustrating, because I have no control about the decision he makes for her care, even though I try to help him figure it out. Maybe its his Catholic upbringing that imprisons him. Or, he's just too depressed to see his choices rationally. I don't know. So I hold my tongue.