Seriously? It should be at least Thursday. Not having any down time for I am not sure how many days tends to make the calendar all blurry-like.
My mother is in the hospital again. The trip to the GI doctor turned into an admission for tests, which I think is wise and long overdue. She's anemic and they will give her a couple of units of blood, which will perk her up. But God help us, I can't wait to see her in her perked up state.
Because tonight she was a monster. I left work early, with my boss's blessing (will work out the details of this later, since I have no leave time to spend). This is a good thing, because I was able to be at the hospital to answer questions from the admitting nurse. Holy shit. My mother is a shameless liar.
Any history of falls?
Mom, a month ago you were here after taking a header in the parking lot at the shoe store, and before that you fell at [the ALF] and before that, at the other nursing home, and before that, at the hospital in April!
Oh. Yeah. I guess.
On and on it went. She cursed at the admitting nurse, lost her temper many times, refused to answer questions, answered them falsely, it was quite the show. Her GI doctor came in, the one who will do the tests tomorrow and damn, he's a babe. Tall, dark, handsome, and naked ring finger. Girlchild needs to visit grandma. (That's for her benefit, of course, she does read this blog, but seriously, he's hot, and looks to be under 35. Seriously. I'm just sayin'.) He was sweet and patient and nice with her, and I told him a bit of the backstory, so he is ordering the results from the last GI series run at Bumfuck General in April. April. I have been dealing with this madness nonstop since April, and we have no more answers now than we did on day one. I told Dr. Babe a bit of the background, and he is on it, he will contact BFGeneral for the last tests and maybe, maybe, we will finally get answers.
But once again, I walked into a hospital room with a tiny, frail little bird of an elderly lady in a bed, and fled embarrassed by her behavior. But it is good that I was there, the admitting nurse thanked me for doing it, because otherwise they'd have a history full of utter bullshit from the little old lady in the bed, who sounds so lucid and convincing while lying through her teeth.
And oh, yeah, R worked like a dog to move the furniture into the ALF, it was a long, brutally hot, very physical day, and now I'm wondering whether we'll be moving it out again in the next few weeks, because I can't keep floating both options for too long. We need to pull the trigger - she will either be able to return to the ALF or not, but she is spending the equivalent of a decent used car every month and something has to give here. I am rounding up a posse of standby movers; R gave more than his share already.
And the little old lady plays pitiful neglected victim at every turn, when she's not being mean as a snake. She has no idea how many people are helping her - I've told her, I tell her their names, I tell her how they care and are there helping her, but she's not processing it, because it doesn't penetrate her victim of the world mentality.
Thank you Internets, for listening. I think I'll go crochet something mindless and watch endless Law and Order reruns now.