Okay, I did it. After my last blog post, I called and set up an appointment for a nurse from Place K to come and evaluate mom for memory care placement. It’s just gotten to be bigger than I can handle. She needs more professional care, people trained to know exactly how to help her, plus, she’s bored! Yesterday she asked ‘wonder what Peggy does all day?’ Really, under normal circumstances, she would know her sister works part time, takes care of her new great-grandbaby a lot of the time, and hangs out with her BFF. Mom HATED being bored. She could always find something to do, even if it was just go wander around a thrift store or something. Now she just lays around. I’m hoping that, if she moved into a facility, she might make friends, get involved in activities, and be distracted from her constant physical complaints. I can’t keep house, try to do a little work online, and entertain her too. I’m only one person.
Here’s how I presented it: her doctor was really busy, but he works with a program that sends nurses out to check on certain special patients, especially elderly ones and ones he has seen for a long time. No, she doesn’t remember it, but he has been her PCP for 20 years or so. Bless him, the Lord owes him an extra star or two in his crown just for putting up with mom all this time. LOL. Anyway, I cautiously advanced the idea that the doc might want her in a rehab hospital for a few days, to run tests, adjust her meds, and get her some therapy to get her stronger. She has griped about feeling weak and not being able to get around, so that fits in. She wasn’t super positive about the idea, but then, she’s never been super positive about anything.
The nurse came last week, was very pleasant and friendly, and, properly warned, he didn’t say anything to contradict my cover story. A couple of days later, I got an email saying she was accepted! So now the process begins: gathering the needed documents, lining up ALL the family help I can get (especially the one cousin who mom will usually listen to when she won’t listen to anybody else), making lists of things she will need (and not need. Um, no printed pill schedule please, nor cell phone, nor heating pad…honestly, I think they will have it made, because most of the things that get her the most confused and agitated are things we aren’t sending with her!). Collecting the furniture she will need and getting the room set up beforehand is essential too, because what hospital, even a rehab, do you go to and find no furnishings?
Speaking of lists, I can get a little bit obsessive myself. Also, I just love to plan stuff.
I’m a little excited and a lot afraid, for many reasons, some of which I blathered about last post. And now that it looks as if it may actually come about, I find myself making like Frodo in Lord of the Rings, when he knew he was leaving his beloved Shire but nobody else knew? On occasion, the past few days, when doing something with mom or for her, I think, what if this is the last time? What if this is the last time I listen to her talk nonsense about how to turn her chap stick off and on, or fix her a peanut butter sandwich, or take her in the car to pick up supper or get ice cream? It feels…strange.
I’m not going to talk a whole lot more about this right now. People say they don’t want to jinx something; well, I don’t exactly believe in that. However, my life experience has been that, if I really get my hopes up about something, it almost always falls flat. I tend to say it’s hard for me to enjoy things because I halfway don’t believe they are actually happening until they are over. This isn’t precisely something to enjoy, as it were, but it will, I hope, end up being something good.