I stopped and fed the cat again this morning. She’s getting really lonely and even though I hate that cat, I feel bad for her. Then I spent the morning making nasty calls to various people because my Mom’s doctor is lazy and thinks she is perfectly fine even though she won’t talk to him, so insurance wants to release her tomorrow. This was after I made a big scene in the hallway last night at the hospital because nobody would talk to me, and a nice nurse took me in another room and documented all the bizarre shit that apparently nobody has been documenting even though this is the third fucking time I’ve told these stories.
I’ve been on the phone for three days now trying to get someone to do something about it but the buck stops with the doctor – even his program director told him to call me but it’s almost 2:30 and he still hasn’t called. I told the last bitch I talked to that if I get a call in the morning saying they are discharging her and I still haven’t talked to the doctor, I am going to call the president of the hospital and the hospital’s ombudsman until I get some satisfaction.
At lunch, I made more calls while driving to Mom’s to get her another pair of glasses since hers cracked. She has 6 fucking pairs scattered about and I had no idea which ones she wanted so I just grabbed up all the ones that I could find and threw them in a bag and then raced to the hospital to drop them off. Then had to call my sister on speaker phone to prove to my Mom that she did in fact say that if Mom doesn’t sign a healthcare POA with me in charge of it instead of my sister, who lives out of state, that my sister will sign it and have her put into an assisted living facility upon discharge. So Mom said she would assign me as the healthcare POA in addition to the general POA I already have. But no time for that now, back to work. That took 85 minutes so no lunch hour for me. Ate half a horrible microwaved sandwich from the shitty cafe downstairs in 5 minutes and then calmed down my new boss who was downstairs ranting as she thought I turned in a job with a million errors on it (it was a draft, not complete, and in the wrong job bag – I just got it today in fact and am proofing it this afternoon).
I realized as I was driving back to work that I’m in a position I never expected. See, my Dad died when I was in college, and it was before I found out about some really terrible things he did. My Dad and I were very good friends despite him apparently having some significant problems, and were working on the transition to an adult/child friendship instead of parent/child thing when he up and died. A few years later, when I found out a significant chunk of what I knew about him had been based on a lie, a lie most people knew nothing about and thought he was a saint that my mother threw out for no reason, I wrestled for a good long while with the fact that I was never going to be able to confront him about his wrongs, to challenge him, try to – if not understand, at least hear his explanation, which I felt he owed me and would have given me. But he was dead. I did all that shit about talking to his grave and writing him letters but when there’s no answer, there’s no answer, and you just learn to live with it and hope there’s no monster in you.
I was glad I would never have to deal with something like that with my Mom. How wrong I was.
She’s here, not dead, but there’s no resolution. She thinks every bizarre, weird thing that’s happened was a purposeful choice that’s part of the “new” her, and she can’t reason normally.
I really don’t know which is worse.