Unfortunately, my Dad was the same, even when we persuaded him to go into a local (for us) nursing home (he’d had amputations due to poor foot care, uncontrolled type 2 diabetes, depression and 3 minor strokes that he’d been in rehab care to regain movement, and moved to live 400 miles away). At the time we got him into a care home 6 years ago, he hadn’t had a shower for 18 months. And that was despite regular 800 mile round trips by me to try & get him showered - I succeeded once and that was with him threatening violence to me - and 2 carers once a week to try to shower him.
He died 2 weeks ago after being like this for 10+ years. It was only on the Tuesday before his death on the Saturday that the GP said he no longer had capacity to make decisions.
Even then, he was the one to decide that he wanted to withdraw from active treatment for his diabetes & wound care. Because - he was deemed to have capacity. So we watched him die a horrible death of starvation, infection, uncontrolled diabetes, blood clots in his legs & brain (he wanted his blood thinners withdrawn because, capacity) and it was, to be honest, fucking brutal. The GP was frustrated with Dad’s decision, the care staff tries to persuade him to not take this course of action, we did of course too.
If someone has capacity, you can do everything in your power to try & help them, but if they won’t engage, there is nothing you can do. It has broken our hearts that there was so much he could’ve achieved if he’d actively engaged (he was only 76 when he died).
We are sad. We are angry. There’s that feeling that we, his kids, we’re not good enough to try & engage with rehab to keep on living.
Capacity is a double edged sword that Dad is the poster boy for why it can go so fucking wrong.