I talked with the psych unit’s social worker last Thursday. She said Place K had sent a nurse out to evaluate mom, and they were deciding whether she could come back to memory care, or needed to go to their rehab floor for a while first. In rehab, she would get pretty intensive physical therapy, which would be great for building her strength back up and getting her more able to do things for herself. That is, of course, assuming she wants to.
Mentally, psych says she is more stable, though still yelling out names at times. She knows where she is…sometimes…and spits up when she can’t get her way. In other words, she sounds pretty much the way she way at home before her most recent decline. My aunt says I should feel good that a hospital full of highly trained professionals is having the same trouble wrangling her that I did. I suppose I do. It’s just strange that I miss her so, when she really hasn’t been here for months. Does that make sense? She was here physically, so maybe that’s why.
I’ve been getting a lot of little things done around the house, things that have needed doing for ages, but that required more than 3 minutes of attention at a time to do or couldn’t be carried back into mom’s darkened bedroom and done. Cleaning out the pantry and the fridge and freezer, clearing stuff that’s been recorded for months off the dvr, watching video classes and taking tests so I can keep my therapist’s license (I may or may not go back to working in speech, but I’m not going to let my license lapse while I’m deciding!) Nearly every afternoon this past week, except the days it rained, I’ve spent some time out on the patio, reading and listening to music while the cat nibbles on my toes. So, yes, I’m still rejoicing in being able to do things everybody else finds totally boring, hehe.
The unaccustomed state of being able to do things on my own schedule continues to delight me. One day last week, Aunt Connie was spending the day with a friend who had come to visit, so I went with Uncle David to McKays’, the huge used bookstore across town. I hauled a couple of big tote bags full of books and got a nice chunk of credit which I spent on several more books. It’s a cycle: read, return, get credit, use credit to get more books, lather, rinse, repeat.
In another book-related item, our excellent local indie bookstore, Parnassus, has a continuous series of very cool people who come in and talk about their books and sign autographs and such. Even though I worked within walking distance of the place for 3 years, I never got to go to one, till this past Friday night, when a member of one of my all-time favorite bands was there (Jonathan Cain from Journey, swoon). I managed to cover myself with glory by arriving at 5:15, buying his book, sitting down in the event area, and reading the book by the time said event started about 6:40. Dude laughed in frank amazement when I told him that in the autograph line later. (no, I didn’t bring it up to brag, but he had noticed I was nodding every time he told a story from the book, so I had to explain that yeah, the book was REAL fresh in my mind. Ha!)
I have an idea for another collage but have just gathered the parts, haven’t started putting it together yet. However, I had an idea the other day that I tried out, and it turned out quite well! I used a large shaped hole punch to punch pieces of text out of a page in an old book, glued them to recycled cardboard, punched tiny holes for findings, then sprayed them with some matte fixing spray I bought for aforementioned collages. After several coats, the paper/cardboard pieces were pretty sturdy but very lightweight. I hooked them together with wire rings, put earring hooks in the tops, and voila!
When I posted them on my facebook, half a dozen friends asked me to make them some! And I wore them to the big spring craft fair at Centennial Park downtown today, and several of the artists there complimented them. so maybe I’m on to something. Contact me if you would like a pair; I’m only charging $20 plus shipping. /end shameless plug
I’m anticipating having to spend tomorrow in a replay of the original all-hands-on-deck moving of mom into assisted living, only this time it’ll be packing her clothes and toiletries up at the psych ward. When nobody from the hospital or assisted living called by lunchtime Friday, I tapped into my knowledge of the place: therapists don’t work on the weekends generally, so the facility doesn’t like to admit new patients on Fridays, especially late in the day, and then have them sit around all weekend until they can get evaluated on Monday. I hope we can get her settled someplace pretty soon, so I can actually start to pursue a job, and maybe a move, and whatever else.
A gal on twitter a while back told me that the things you go through prepare you for what is coming next. Interestingly, Jonathan Cain said pretty much the same thing the other night while talking about his book. So, I’m, what, bracing myself? Not really, because I’m in hopes that what comes next won’t be dreadful. I’m trying to ready myself, I guess, and keeping my mind and options open.
By the way, thanks to all y’all who read my ramblings regularly and say nice things about them. You don’t know how much it means to me. Next time, I’ll pick y’all’s brains. I may even take a poll! I have two novel manuscripts basically done, but can’t decide which to polish and go for publication first, so I may ask for opinions. Also, I'll share an awesome book series I just started reading; plus, I need to vent about Mother’s Day, and may disclose something I really want to do but feel a bit guilty about. (insert cliffhanger music here, lol)