Monthly Care Meeting

Yesterday was the second care meeting for mom. She's delusional. She thinks she can just check herself out of the nursing home and go home. She's out of her mind. How will she get home? She can't fit in any of our cars. How will she deal with day to day life? She can't afford a live in nurse. She's convinced if she stays at Shady Pines, she'll "wither and die."  

She's still accusing my sister of holding her against her will at the nursing home (incorrect). She's now blaming my sister for the fact mom is at the home at all. Of course, it'd be easier to deflect blame onto my sister (or anyone else for that matter) than to realize the only person to blame is my mother, herself, for the current state of things.

It's taken my sister ten years longer than myself to establish and maintain boundaries. She's only seeing mom once a week (and to be honest, I think 1x a week is too much, especially for someone so thankless and abusive).  

Looks like she's either sweet talked (or coerced with some promise of financial gain) one of our cousins (who, in addition to being a certifiable flake, also has THREE daughters who are on the autism spectrum--all of whom are now in their 20s, and I don't know if they live with her or what), to commit to doing two days of home care or companionship a week (pretty big commitment, since the cousin lives over an hour away from mom). 

If the cousin doesn't flake out and does manage to be dependable, that would mean HER mom (mom's first cousin) would then be privy to all kinds of insider information about mom, mom's finances, home, plus the never-ending-stream of criticisms mom has about EVERYONE. 

Perhaps this cousin, much like mom's friend "B," are the last people to suffer mom's wrath. 

I said to my sister about the idea of our cousin doing home care for mom, "Let her. Mom will wear out her welcome quick enough. Let mom check herself out of Shady Pines. And let her next fall be a fatal one on a day when our cousin isn't there. Why should we give a shit, when she doesn't?"

More Telephone Twattery

I was in Vermont all last week, and I *did* try calling her a few times while away; and again, I tried to call her on Saturday. And then the weekend kind of ran away with itself. And here we are on Tuesday.

I tried calling on her cell and on her room phone, and both of which rang and rang, and neither of which have voicemail set up, so pretty much it's as if she's at her own house where the phone is equally fucked and no voicemail set up.  

And even if I did call and got her, her memory is so shot from either her glucose issues or the long term use of vicodin and lyrica fucking with her brain function, she forgets things too quick. 

So whatever. 

"Get Busy Living, Or Get Busy Dying"

So, the discussion I had with my mom a couple weeks back wen I visited her at Shady Pines. Sorry, I've been remiss. I guess I should just jot this shit down for posterity. In no particular order (given the conversation wasn't very linear anyway), I'll do word vomit in bullet points:

• Life is full of choices, and right now you have two: Get busy living or get busy dying;
• All of us want what is best for you, whether that means you go home or stay here in the nursing facility;
• NONE of us can do what needs to be done to get you back home--THAT IS UP TO YOU;
• Whether you are able to leave the facility or not hinges directly on you fully applying yourself in your rehab, because if you cannot walk unassisted with your walker, you cannot go home;
• There are many valid points to be made if you stay in the nursing home;
• How you verbally shredded your friend "B" should be a tip off to you that you need psychological help--she's the sweetest person, who didn't deserve your venom;
• If they offer counseling and antidepressants, take them;
• If the antidepressants don't work, keep trying a new medication until you find what works;
• Grandpa has been dead since 2012. Nothing can undo the damage he's done, but don't you want to be as happy as you can? Or at least TRY TO BE?;
• WE ARE TALKING ABOUT HOW YOU SPEND THE REST OF YOUR LIFE, HERE;

Anyway, that's the jist of what I said to her. Whether she processed it or not, who knows. But she's still the same, capricious, manipulator she's always been--hearing what she wants to hear, and telling each of us what she thinks we want to hear.

Forgot to Share This on March 4th

A bit of absurdity I neglected to share, and here I am, clearing out some of the photos off my phone, and totally forgot about this.

I visited my mother for her birthday in March, and she allowed me to snap this photo in all its glorious fuckeduppedness.

What you're witnessing here is what happens when you accidentally bend (quite possibly reused) your syringe and empty the contents (insulin) under the skin rather, I guess, into the meat, and then let the insulin pool there, subcutaneously (rather than try to squeeze out a blister full of insulin), and then of course, it gets infected. OH! And of course, NOT seek out medical attention for it.

At least she was keeping it clean--but STILL? I'm not a nurse, and yet, I'm relegated to this role, because she's stupid.

I wish I had a Kennedy half dollar for scale, as I believe the open wound's circumference was roughly that size. I ended up going to CVS to get some OTC silver based wound spray and that helped clear things up. She DID have a tub of Silvadene (or however you spell it), which was filthy and no doubt expired. This should have been a huge indicator that she shouldn't be left alone at home. WHO ALLOWS THIS TO HAPPEN TO THEMSELVES?