Poop meets the fan

I'm really confused. Well, maybe not confused...yes, well, maybe I am....

Dad sat me down yesterday and said that in two or three weeks he will be ready to go home.

*Cut to me burying my face in my hands. 

Here's what's so hard about this: He seems absolutely perfectly lucid and calm. We had a thoughtful discussion during which:

• He disagreed with my statement that he's fallen at home. (Said it was once and that he tumbled onto one knee.)
• He blamed his one fall here on his socks matched with my slippery floors (even though he fell in the carpeted bedroom.)
• He said he's growing stronger.
• He told me that he feels that he's intruding on our life.
• He told me that he and Mom really miss their house.
• He said the management of his/their medication is "not rocket science" and they don't need help with that.
• He said that the next door neighbor will drive them to medical appointments.
• He said that he'll take taxicabs to other appointments.
• He said they're only a block away from Trader Joe's where they can get food. 
• He told me that he'd rather kill himself than live here for 10 years.
• He said that nobody asked him if he wanted to come here. (Duh.)
• We discussed the possibility of them moving into an assisted living residence and he said that would be more isolating than our house because he'd have to interact with "new people."
• We ended the discussion with him saying that we are going to sit down every Saturday and have a "campfire" meeting and discuss how they feel about everything.
• He came back a second time and said that maybe we can hire a personal assistant who can be "here."

I told Mom all of this and she buried her face in her hands.

My head is spinning. I'm trying my best and it's not good enough. Plus, Dad DOES seem more coherent, but I think part of that is that he's trying to prove that he's OK to move back home. Last night, he was yelling for Mom so that he could do his PT exercises. Suddenly there's enthusiasm for such activities?

I know he hates it here, which makes me feel TERRIBLE. I said I was OK with being the bad guy...and I am. But when the rubber meets the road, I'm a complete wuss. I don't take it lightly that I've ripped someone out of their home and put them someplace they don't want to be.

God help me.