Mom’s first care plan meeting went well. I walked in and the first person I saw was the dietitian I worked with almost daily when I worked at Place K! It was actually funny once the meeting started, because she was asking me questions about mom’s diet needs and swallowing and such, almost as though mom were a patient of mine. To be honest, sometimes I do find myself having to detach from daughter-mode and go into something like therapist-mode, to have any kind of objectivity. I tried to do that when she was here with me, but, uh, didn’t work so well. Not a surprise, right?
Anyway, the care team gave me the news I was expecting. There’s no way mom can move back into assisted living, even the memory care unit. She can’t do nearly enough for herself, and the odds of her improving enough to be able to do so are, maybe not nonexistent, but close enough as no matter. One main thing is, to live in assisted living, you have to be able to transport yourself to a designated location in the event of an emergency, in a given amount of time, without help. Practically speaking, that means if the fire alarm goes off, say, you have to know, or be able to follow directions, to go to the stairwell within say 3 minutes. This is a law, and if you can’t do that, you can’t live there. Well, you aren’t supposed to live there. I’ve worked at ALFs where we knew for a fact some of the residents couldn’t do it, but the facility wanted the rooms filled and the rent being paid, so they kept the persons long past when they should have been moved into long-term care. Place K, fortunately, is not one of those places.
The good news is mom is making progress with her therapy! She’s getting stronger and more able to dress and clean herself up, with less help, so that is great. I have to go this Tuesday and ride on the facility van with her back to the foot doctor, at the nearby hospital, to follow up on the toe that somehow got fractured while she was at New Psych. So it’ll be another case of, fine until I get ready to leave, and then freak out, probably; though I hope not.I went by last week to drop off her walker, and was mentally girding myself for a visit and the usual issues at its end; but a kids choir was singing for the residents, and mom was sitting sipping on a protein drink and listening and visiting with them. You think I interrupted that? I ain’t that dumb. lol
Reclaiming my life continues apace. My tattoo is healing nicely and getting rave reviews from everybody. Seriously, I don’t think a soul in my life who knows about it has had one single negative thing to say. Yay!
Friday night, I was settling in for a quiet evening of baby-blanket crochet and movie watching. I’ve just about worked my way through all the Marvel Cinematic Universe movies. Don’t turn your nose up, by the way. Those things are like this ginormous jigsaw puzzle, and every one I watch gives me pieces that fit with something else. It’s amazing. Plus so many of the characters have this backstory and depth you wouldn’t expect in a ‘superhero’ flick, which wouldn’t matter, except for the tremendous acting out of the great stuff the writers put on the script pages. Oh, and eye candy. Lots of eye candy. Along with reclaiming my life, I seem to be reclaiming my libido. LOL! (My heart and other relevant parts totally belong to Iron Man/Tony Stark, however. Doggone that Robert Downey Jr. He can wring my heart like a dang dishrag without saying a word. Give me a flawed hero who feels the fear and does the thing anyway, all day long)
Okay, sorry, got sidetracked. (comes back up out of MCU rabbit hole) So I was ready to veg when my aunt Connie called me. My cousin Jess, her daughter, co-hosts this hilarious podcast with two sorority sisters, and last Friday they sponsored a…trying to think how to describe their Champagne Friday. It was at a small venue, and for a small cover charge, you got 3 drinks, a sticker, and an evening with 3 female singer-songwriters. So yeah, I ended up getting all dressed and riding with my aunt and uncle to sip champagne and a mimosa and a peach bellini (I think that’s what you call champagne and peach nectar? It was awfully good, whatever you call it) and listen to some excellent music.
Y’all. I literally cannot remember the last time I dropped everything on a Friday night on an hour’s notice and went out! I mean, I knew about the event and I’d thought about it, but did I really want to go by myself when I wouldn’t know anybody but my cousin? Not really. Besides, this way, I could actually have my 3 drinks, which weren’t huge so it wasn’t like I was blasted or anything, but I never drive when I have had anything at all to drink. I did it once, back in my Music Row days, and even though I was not impaired, it so unnerved me that I swore never again.
My doctor told me several years ago to start drinking a little red wine every night for my health. I have, historically, NO head for alcohol. For reasons I’d rather not go into, I’ve always been very wary of the stuff. And with mom here, and never knowing when things might blow up, I’d have to chase her around outside, or rush her to the hospital for something or other, I clearly could not indulge in anything remotely impairing. Since she’s moved, though, I have started doing a small glass some nights. And maybe that has improved my tolerance, because I enjoyed my 3 drinks Friday night and did not get sleepy or stupid. Well, not any stupider than usual. :D
Here's the link to the podcast web site, which I highly recommend. It also has info and links on the gals who picked that night, all three of whom really were super good, and I hope they all hit it big so I can say I heard them when.
The Champagne Way