Remembering Her

Two years ago today, I lost my Mom.  I was wide awake at 3:30-ish this morning.  This is not unusual, I usually wake up several times during the night, feeling hot.  Usually it's starts around 5:00.  I guess maybe I woke up because that was the time she passed.  I initially got the call at 3:15 that morning, so who knows.

It's been a long two years and I can honestly say I don't think I have ever let myself fully let out my grief.  I think I have always been afraid that if I started crying about it that I would never stop.  So, I just never let myself go there.  Maybe that wasn't such a good idea.

I wanted to do something today to remember my mom.  I decided to get my tattoo finished with something to remember her.  Whenever I think of her, I see dragonflies.  My tattoo is a big dragonfly as well as some little ones and flowers.  So I asked Ezra of Iron Elements to come up with another dragonfly that has my mother's name and her dates incorporated into the design.

I think he did an awesome job!

Visiting

Yesterday, I did what I have done for five years now.  I went to Nancy, Nick's mothers grave to visit her for her birthday.  As usual, I weeded around her name plate and put a new bouquet of pink tulips.  Pink was her favorite color.  She was also a big fan of tulips.

While there, I noticed that another friend is buried just a couple of rows over.  I don't know why I never noticed this before.  Maybe because I never walk around.  I go, do my thing, say a few words and I am on my way.  I will now add Kevin to my list of visits.

The Beginning of the End

One year ago, today, my mother had surgery to amputate two fingers that were infected with MRSA.  I truly believe that that was the beginning of the end.  The end of her life.  Mom had some complications after surgery.  Her heart rate elevated and she ended up being hospitalized for almost a week.  She should have been in one day.

While waiting for her to get out of recovery, I met Anastacia, the therapy dog.  She was all decked out for Cinco de Mayo.  She made me smile that day.

The following day, I had some major shit blow up in my life.  I made one of the best decisions I ever did and cut a big dead weight from it.  In return, I ended up depressed and just tired and exhausted with life.  I never did go to see my mother on Mother's Day.  I wanted to take her flowers but she was still in ICU.  In the state of mind I was in, I didn't go visit.

I did visit the next day.  She was in a regular room and I took her a nice floral arrangement.  She loved flowers.  It was just like most visits had become.  No talking and her just kind of not really caring if I was there or not.  This was the last time I saw my mother.

I let life get in my way.  I was extremely busy at the salon with prom.  Prom season goes on for weeks here.  I worked like a dog to get everyone in and ready for their big day.  I was exhausted, both physically and also mentally.  Then there was the Memorial Day rush.  I then had to work like crazy the first week of June so that I could get everyone in before we all hopped on a plane to head to Orlando for the Premier Beauty Show.  The Monday before we left, I had every intention to go visit my mom.  Somehow I talked myself out of going.  It was the frame of mind I was in.  My mother died a week later.  I was in Florida.

I really wish I had made myself go that day.  I just worry that she died thinking that I didn't care.  I did.  It makes me so sad to know that my mother died alone.  I still remember the call.  My ringtone at the time was Turning Japanese and I can't hear the intro to that song without feeling sick to my stomach.  I just really hope that my mother knew how much I loved her.

Christmas Without Her

This is my first Christmas Eve without my mom.  I grew up in a broken family.  My parents divorced before I was two years old.  My mother always allowed my father and his family to have Christmas Day with me.  I always had Christmas Eve with my Mom and Grandma.  It was great!  I got to open my presents on Christmas Eve around midnight.  I got TWO visits from Santa!

As I grew up and my Father disappeared from my life, I started spending Christmas Day with some of my friend's family and then eventually with Nick and his family.  The Christmas Eve with Mom tradition was always a given.

This year, I just find myself so sad.  I am going to go today and light one of her eternity candles, but it's not the same.  I am trying to remember the good times, but all I can think about is last Christmas Eve and all the crap that was going on at the nursing home and it just pisses me off that that is the last Christmas I got to spend with her.

My Mom loved Christmas.  She decorated like there wasn't a tomorrow.  Every year, she would decorate her tree differently.  She crocheted snowflakes one year, then the next year pastel snowflakes, then the next year she crocheted angels and hearts.  Each year totally different.  I never inherited that from her.  I really don't like the holidays.  Someone said this morning that they don't either that all they bring is disappointment and rejection and that is how I feel.  Yes, my mother made sure the holidays were nice for me, but there were just some things she couldn't fix.  She couldn't make someone love me or want to spend time with me when he didn't.  Here I am, 43 years old and still suffering that same disappointment and rejection.  Why do I care?  I don't know.  All I know is the one parent that loved me and thought the world of me and would have done anything for me, is gone.

So, I am going to try to get through this day, with a smile on my face and try to remember my mother when she was the most happy, loud, boisterous woman.  She was me times 10.  That's what I will focus on, not the small, frail, weak, soft spoken woman that she ended up being in the end.  I will hug my dog tight, knowing that if she was here, she would be doing the same.  I will light that candle and I will always love my Mom and I will always miss her the most on Christmas Eve.

Merry Christmas Mom.

Happy St. Nick Day!

Today is St. Nick Day and today I am really thinking of my mother.  Up until I was 21 years of age, St. Nick visited my house.  Sometimes, I wouldn't have a clue that it was St. Nick Day until I went to go out of the door to go to school and would nearly trip over a bag of goodies.  Sometimes I would go to put on my shoes and find money in them.

The goodie bags usually had candy bars, Bubble Yum (which was a hot commodity back them) oranges and walnuts.  All the goodies were in a brown paper sack that was twisted closed at the top.  As I got older and stopped believing in Santa, I also questioned who St. Nick really was.

My mother swore that it wasn't her, yet I reminded her that she would never let me eat things from strangers.  I thought for awhile that she may have invested in the help of my Great Aunt Marg.  I really don't know.  My mother never admitted doing it.

I am almost certain it was my mom.  It had to be.  And she never forgot.  Neither will I.

Happy St. Nick Day!  May you find some money in your shoe!

The Question

So, for the second time ever, I was asked The Question.  It is a simple question.  An innocent question.  A dreaded question.

So, how's your Mom doing?

Both times I have been asked this question, it was people, who knew my mom and one knew of her illness.  Both didn't know that she died.  They both felt horrible and I feel awful that they felt that way.

The first time, was about a month after my mother passed.  An old, childhood friend, was home visiting and was in the salon.  She asked and I responded.  I know she felt bad and I assured her it was okay.  I was fine and it truly was a blessing.

So, time passed.  I knew I would get The Question again some day.  Tonight I did.  A previous client, who gets her nails done occasionally was in tonight and while catching up, she asked The Question.  I had no idea how much that question was going to hit me.  It's been over five months.

I got a huge lump in my throat.  I instantly felt my eyes start to tear up and my voice quivered when I told her that my mom had passed away in June.  Again, the question asker felt horrible.  Again, I assured her it was okay and told her of my surprise at my reaction.

I realized that I still, really haven't let myself totally break down.  Why?  I don't know.  Maybe I am afraid if I let the gates open, I will never be able to close them again.  I guess I just never realized how much I was going to truly, emotionally and physically miss my mom.

One Week

Somehow, I blinked and my mother has been gone for one week.  I guess this is the first milestone to get over.  I will admit, I didn't sleep well last night.  I kept waking up, strangely at certain times that things had happened the week before.  It is all still so surreal to me right now.  I keep thinking of things and planning things in my mind, like I need to get Mom this or that, or I think of something to take her like Sheetz's new cherry chocolate coffe drink or I even start to plan my schedule so I can pop in for a visit.  Then I realize, she's gone.

Regina took this picture while in Orlando.  It is the view, right outside our condo door.  My heart nearly skipped a beat when I saw the photo.  This is the exact same spot I stood in and this is the view that I stared at blindly, trying to make sense of all that was happening after I got the calls.  This courtyard was very peaceful, especially in the early morning hours.  I am glad that I have this photo.

I've made it over the first milestone.  One week.  Life goes on.

She's at Peace.

In March 2005, my Mom nearly died from renal failure. She was hospitalized for 23 days and diagnosed with Bright's Syndrome. It is basically, chronic kidney disease. For the next year and a half, she was getting dialysis three days a week. On August 7, 2006, I got a call at 6:30 in the morning that Mom didn't show up for dialysis.  We found her at home, on the floor.  She was rushed to the hospital and then life flighted to Pittsburgh due to a brain bleed.  She had some complications during the flight, an IV infiltrated, which resulted in the issue of her left arm being destroyed.  August 7, 2006 is the day that I lost my mother.  June 7, 2010 is the day that she was finally at peace.

These last four years have been tough on both of us.  Tough on her, healthwise.  She has had many struggles.  Tough on me because I had to clear out her apartment, find a place for her to get good care and the worst part, was realizing that the mother that I knew was gone.

The loud, boisterous, life of the party, Mom that I had known for 39 years was no more.  I was left with a quiet, meek little lady that would rather lay in bed, watching MASH, and talk to no one, than get in her wheelchair, or walk for that matter, and socialize.  The only time she left her room is to go to dialysis or when her friend Sandy came and made her leave.

On May 5, my Mom had to have a surgery to amputate two of her fingers that were infected due to Osteomylitis and MRSA.  Not sure which came first, but the Osteomylitis is something that can happen in renal patients.  I was told that the MRSA was spreading and we needed to do this to stop the infection.  She had the surgery and when they were waking her up, her heart rate elevated.  The put her in ICU as a precaution.  She was in ICU for four days.  I last saw her on the day after Mother's Day, when she went into a regular room.  I took her flowers for Mother's Day since she wasn't allowed to have them in ICU.  Our visit was just like every other one lately.  Me talking, her saying something every now and then.  Towards the end, I didn't really know if she enjoyed my visits.  She always seems like she could care less if I was there or not.  These visits were extrememly hard.  It was hard to see your mother and have her not only not look like your mother, but not act like her either. 

I had my own surgery the week later, then the Prom Madness kicked in and I worked an insane amount of hours for the next three weeks.  I was exhausted.  I had the opportunity to go visit her the Tuesday before I left for the Orlando show and somehow, I ended up talking myself out of going.  Why?  I don't know.  Do I regret it?  Hell yes.

I then worked Wednesday and Thursday, trying to fit four days worth of clients in two days since we were leaving on Friday, June 4 for the show.  Thursday, I got a call at the salon from the nursing home, saying that she had tried to get into her wheel chair and had fallen on her behind.  They said that she was okay.  I believed that.

While in Orlando, I get a frantic call from Mr. Bruises Sunday morning, saying that something was wrong with Riley.  He was acting funny, he was having a hard time walking.  I talked him through it and had him call a client/good friend that used to be a vet tech.  We all determined that he pulled a muscle in his back and he was to get some asprin three times a day.  He seemed to be doing better.

Sunday night, I was the last one to go to bed.  I was still up, on our patio, chatting and visiting with an old friend, who had stopped to see me.  I went to bed at 12:30.  About an hour later, I was jolted awake by a surge that emitted from my heart.  I really can't explain it, it was like a vibration, a shock, a twinge, but it wasn't painful.  I immediately thought that something had happened to Riley, since he had been on my mind.  Little did I know, but I think this was a sign of my mother's heart attack.  Eventually, I fell back asleep.  I was jolted awake at 2:45 am, when an odd sound was coming from our room.  I was confused as was BFF Jill, who was in bed beside me.  I then realized that it was my phone ringing.  It was the emergency ring I had programmed into the phone for when the home called about my Mom.  See, my phone is so smart, that it knows certain numbers and even if you have your phone on silent, that number will ring no matter what.  I didn't make it to the phone on time, but I knew that they would leave a voice mail.

I went into the bathroom, closed the door and waited for the voice mail notification to come through.  It did.  I listened to it.  The head nurse called and said that when they did the 2:30 bed check, my Mom was unresponsive.  She said she was still breathing but her blood pressure was really low and that they were sending her by amulance to the emergency room.  I could tell by the catch in her voice that this was going to be bad.

I went outside, so I wouldn't wake any of my condo mates and called the emergency room.  I explained to them that I was in Florida and they were my eyes and ears.  I begged them to help me and to let me know what was going on.  At that point, she hadn't arrived yet.  So I sat down and waited for their call.  Somehow, I wandered inside and laid back down in bed.  At 4:10, the call came and they told me that she had passed.  I really think that she had passed at the nursing home, but they couldn't tell me that.  The ER nurse said that they had worked on her in the ambulance the whole way and that when she arrived at the ER she was cold and starting to turn blue, but they still continued to try. 

I then got on the phone with the Coroner.  This man has been drug through the mud lately, and unfairly so.  I have always had nothing but good things to say about him and now I can add even more.  This man is a gem.  He was very patient with me on the phone, explained everything to me.  My mother died of a heart attack.  He also informed me that my mother had refused dialysis on Saturday.  I did not know this.  He assured me that even though this resulted in toxins being in her body, it did not play into her cause of death.  At the end, he asked me if there was anything else he could do for me.  I replied that I just needed to figure out what I was doing.  He asked when we had planned to return hom and I told him Tuesday morning.  He told me that there was nothing for me to rush home for.  My mother was already gone.  There was nothing to do at home.  He said that the time, hassle and expense of changing flights and plans just weren't worth it for one day.  I thank him for that conversation.  It made sense, I guess I just needed to hear it.

It wasn't like I could rush home to see her before she passed.  It wasn't like I had a father at home to comfort or siblings.  To be honest, where I was, was the best place to be.  I was surrounded by friends.  Good friends.  I had my BFF by my side and my entire Nail Tech family with me.  I only wish that Mr. Bruises had been there, but I was able to talk to him and that's what I needed.

I was able to take care of just about everything via phone.  I went to the show late, Monday was my shopping day, so I made my way to each booth that I had listed and got what I needed then headed to FedEx and shipped it all home.  Monday was kind of like a fog.

All day Monday, I kept seeing dragonflies.  These weren't the normal ones that just buzzed by.  These ones lingered.  At one point I saw two together.  Whenever I used to think about Nick's Mom, I would see one.  It was comforting to see two together. 

At the airport, after arriving in Pittsburgh, we were walking from our gate to the tram and people behind me kept yelling "Ma'am", I didn't respond because, let's face it , I am a "Miss!", but they tracked me down with all of these one dollar bills.  They said they were falling out of my bag.  I was confused since all of my money, was neatly arranged in denomination order with the heads all facing one direction and they were all in an envelope in my purse.  BFF Jill said that maybe the zipper was open.  No.  Then she thought there was a hole in my purse.  No.  Then she thought I had put money in my laptop case.  No.  We just chalked it up to good fortune and moved on.

We used the restroom and on my way out, something hit my leg.  I looked down.  More dollar bills.  Again, these were all in disarray.  A few together folded some singles.  This is exactly the disarry that my mother kept her money in when she put it in her pocket.  It drove my OCD mind crazy.  Still, I just shook my head, not knowing where it came from.

At the funeral home Wednesday night, BFF Jill gave me an article that she had read in a magazine that day.  It was about a woman, whos mother had passed away and she started finding dimes everywhere.  In her bed, in her shoes, in her socks.  The article went on to say that finding unexplained coins was a well-known sign of visits from angels.  Still, these were dollars.  I then realized that my mother didn't do anything unless she did it over the top.  She didn't just decorate for the holidays, she DECORATED.  She did everthing in life times ten, so............... it's no surprise that I was finding dollars instead of dimes.

I've been overwhelmed by the show of love and support from everyone.  I received HUNDREDS of comments, messages and wall posting on FB.  There is no way I will be able to answer them all and somehow a blanket thank you doesn't seem fit.  I want each and every one of you who sent me a message know that it helped me.  I saved each and every one of them so that I could read them again at a later time.  Thank you for all of the hugs and offers to help.  I had clients offer to come to the salon and make phone calls for me.  WOW.  Thanks for all of the beautiful plants and flowers.  My mother loved both.  I have a lot of items to keep that will make me think of her as they grow.

I was able to create two, large collages of photos of her.  I got her a very nice necklace with Our Lady of Guadalupe on it.  The boys sent one of their tennis balls.  I am sure she would have cherished the ball the most.  She loved my boys, maybe more than I do, if that is possible.  That woman lit up like a Christmas tree when I would bring one to visit.

The day of her viewings was ugly.  It was a rainy, ugly day.  I really didn't notice too much.  Thursday, the day we buried her was one of the most gorgeous days we have had this year.  It was a sunny day with a nice breeze.  It was a day she would have loved, it was her kind of day.  It was a very fitting day.  She is buried next to her mother.  I am sure they are bickering (with love) already.

I am going to miss my mom.  It was a blessing for her to pass.  She had no life.  She is at peace now.  She left me four years ago, but it still hurts.  I am never going to see her again or get to tell her I love her again.  I always told her I loved her before I left so I know I said it to her the last time I saw her, but I just wished I could say it once again.  God speed, Mom.  I love you.

The IRS killed my mother....

Yes, you read that correctly.  The IRS killed my mother.  I am working with them now, to have them bring her back to life.  I have no idea how this happened other than some jackass who doesn't know how to do his job must have clicked the button "Deceased."

It all started with her 2006 taxes, which were the first ones I had to complete and file for her as Power of Attorney.  Each year, 2006, 2007, 2008 and most recentely, 2009, I have attached the Power of Attorney paperwork to her return, since she can't sign the return due to her brain injury and the injury to her arm from the IV infiltration.

Each tax year, the return gets sent back to me saying that they need EITHER her signature OR if a POA is signing, they need a copy of the original POA paperwork.  Well hello, Dumbshits, you received that paperwork with the return.  Every. Single. Year.  I have to send it twice.

2008 taxes started the nightmare.  I mailed them in April 2009.  July 2009, I got them returned to me as usual.  I sent again with second copy of POA.  September 2009, I got them returned AGAIN, so I sent it them a THIRD copy.  Imagine my annoyance when April 12, 2010, I get them returned for the third time.  I am hotter than a hornet now.

So, I went to the nursing home and had my poor mother try to sign her return with a pen in her mouth.  It was the equivilent of a scribble, but hey, they want her f'n signature.  I then typed them the following letter:

To Whom It May Concern: 

Here we go AGAIN. For the third year after my mother’s brain injury, you once again are insisting that this woman sign a tax return that she owes entirely no taxes on. Each year, I have sent you the Power of Attorney paperwork listing myself as medical and financial POA. This past year I had to send it AGAIN twice, along with a letter explaining that my mother is disabled, with a brain and arm injury and living in a nursing home. Now, you are still insisting on a “mark” from her.

I wish I could have video taped the poor woman holding a pen in her mouth, trying to make this mark. How humiliating. I would like you to know once again, this woman has NO USE of her hands, actually at the end of this month, fingers are going to be amputated. YES, I said amputated.

When someone is living on disability and lives in a nursing home and all of their funds go to the nursing home except $45 for personal items (which doesn’t buy much), and owes NO TAXES and files a ZERO return for three years in a row, it is ridiculous that you require this woman to sign this return with her mouth. Why on Earth do I have POA paperwork to begin with?

You need to look into your policies. As an only child, taking care of all of my mother’s affairs, medical and financial , on my own, this is just an unneeded thing that I shouldn’t have to deal with.

Sincerely, 

The Bitch you are really PISSING OFF!

Okay, I didn't sign it that way, but still.  So you see, this is a zero return.  She owes nothing.  She doesn't get a refund.
 
Fast forward to last week and I get a check in the mail.  It is made out to:
 
MY NAME, Claimant
MY MOM's NAME, Decsd
 
DECSD.  I was pretty sure that meant deceased.  So I called.  I was right.  Somehow, some douchebag decided that my mother was dead.  It seems as though my mom qualified for the $300 stimulus money that President Bush handed out for 2008.  The IRS guy told me to try to cash the check.  He said if I have any trouble cashing it, I need to return it and in 8-10 weeks they will reissue another.  It doesn't really matter, the nursing home is gong to take that money anyway.
 
He then told me that they sent a letter two weeks ago about my mother being deceased.  I have not gotten it.  He said when I do, to send it back with a letter explaining that my mother is alive.
 
So, as if I don't have enough bullshit to deal with, with my mother, I now have to work with the IRS to bring her back to life.  Bastards.  Does anyone do their job anymore and further, do it well?  And we want these people running our health care system....................

MOM

Well, today is Mother's Day. Mom is still in the hospital. She had surgery on Wednesday. They had to amputate the middle and ring fingers on her left hand due to the Osteomylitis and MRSA that was spreading. I am not sure which came first, but the Osteomylitis is a possible side effect of dialysis.

Her heart rate elevated when they were bringing her out of anesthesia so as a precaution, they put her in ICU. She is still there and should be going to a regular room soon. I don't mind ICU, she gets individual attention there.

One thing in honoring my mother today, I remember what a strong woman she was. She was married to an abusive man, who was an alcoholic and drug abuser. She stood up for herself and her child and left him. She was a single mother. She did the best that she could and I would say she was successful. Look at me. It's because of her.

I am amazed that 40 some years later, there are women that are still controlled by the men that are supposed to love them. They don't have any friends because they aren't allowed. They are told what to do, where to go, when to do things. Their lives are totally controlled. That is absolute horse shit.

I am thankful that Mr. Bruises is not that kind of man. Let's face it, if he was, he wouldn't be Mr. Bruises, like my mother, I would have moved on. That's one of the many things that she taught me.

Thanks Mom. I love you. Happy Mother's Day.

Happy Conception Day to Me!

Forty four years ago, I was conceived. How do I know this? Well, I really don’t know this for certain, however, my parents married on April 30, 1966. I was born January 30, 1967. Nine months, to the day. My mother also “claimed” that she was a good, Catholic girl and didn’t do the nasty until she said “I do”. I really don’t know if I believe her on that one, however, the dates don’t lie.


I’ve joked about this for years. One year, I was on a cruise for my Conception Day. Anyone who has ever been on a cruise knows at dinner they sing to just about everyone. They sing Happy Birthday, Happy Honeymoon, Happy Anniversary. Well, imagine the room going silent when they hear the waiters start to sing “Happy Conception Day” to me. My friends arranged it. The look of confusion on faces was priceless. Everyone was all, what are they saying? Are they really saying what I think they are saying?

I share this day with some special friends. Some great ladies in my life were born today. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that we share this day together. The most special lady that shared this day with me was Nick’s Mom. I always told her “You may have been born today, but “I” was conceived today!” and we would have a good chuckle and eat cake.

This is the third year that we are not celebrating this day together. It dismays me that three years have passed and she still does not have a headstone. I have no control over that and it kills me. There’s no excuse for it.

I’ve made her a beautiful arrangement of pink, silk tulips that I plan to put on her grave today. I’ve made her an arrangement every year since she’s been gone. If she doesn’t have a headstone, at least the beautiful flowers will mark the spot where a beautiful woman rests.

The Infamous Green Sticker

Well, here it is folks, the infamous green sticker on my mother's name plate, outside her door that is supposed to make me STOP and take warning that there is an infectious disease in the room.  Oh, look and it's times two!

First, it's yellow, not green.  Second, it is approximately three inches by one inch, which REALLY stands out.  Finally, walking down the hall, when I was leaving, I noticed that very few name plates DO NOT have these stickers or some other type of sticker.

This sticker is pre-printed with the word "PRECAUTIONS" on it.  It then has "See Nurse" hand written on it.  That's it.  Smack me silly and call me a dumb shit, but I think this is very minimal at best.  Sad thing, they are compliant with the law.

It seems as though they were totally complient in all areas.  They DO NOT have to call me if my mother says not to, even if she is saying "Don't call her, she's not home, she's on vacation".  See my mom is still in the frame of mind that we are all tied to a land line at the house.  She doesn't understand that I have my cell phone with me at all times. 

No offense, but a six year old would have figured out what she meant, that she didn't want them to call me because I was on vacation and not home.  She did not mean that she DIDN'T WANT ME TO KNOW!  So, to rectify this situation and to prevent it from happening in the future, the social worker and I talked to her together and we have it marked in her file that mom wants me to know everything.  Always.

I really wish the government would stay the hell out of my relationship with my mother and let me provide and oversee her care without their stupid bullshit laws.  Now I know how the gays and lesbians feel.

Finding Peace

I’ve been a bit overwhelmed by the number of responses I’ve gotten from my last post. I’ve cried a lot in the past couple of days. It’s been a long time since I cried myself to sleep. I’ve taken a lot of what you all said to heart and have done a lot of thinking. I’ve also had a few heart to hearts with others in the exact same situation and I’ve finally come to the point where I want peace.


I’ve realized that my mother is not trying to exclude me due to selfishness or with malicious intent. I think it comes down to one single thing. She doesn’t understand the consequences of her answer. When asked if she wants me notified, she replies “no”. In her mind, she knows that I am busy and that I worry. She doesn’t want me to be bothered with the small stuff. See, in her mind, this is small stuff. She doesn’t know that this is HUGE, gigantic, monstrous stuff to me. So, I forgive her and I will try to find some way to convey this to her that she will understand.

This doesn’t, however, mean that I don’t think the nursing home people are right in what they are doing with this “you don’t have a right to know if she says you don’t” bullshit. I contacted Area Agency on Aging yesterday and spoke with a nice man. He is doing some research for me because some things are just not sitting well with him. He wants to have all the legal stuff confirmed and in front of him when he confronts them for me. This is promising. I called, yesterday, desperate for some new direction, since I feel that I am still back at square one.

As I sit here days later, most of the sting has went away, but there are still a few things that bother me. One is the Director of Nursing pretty much chiding me because I didn’t notice the little, green sticker on my mother’s name plate that says “Precaution” or something to that effect. I was escorted into the room. I didn’t see her name plate. Obviously, I am not the only dumb shit, since my cousin and my mother’s friend all went into that room not knowing that we were to use PRECAUATIONS. I guess we are all dumbshits. I pretty much told her that maybe they need to educate people more on those stickers and what they mean.

Second, when I brought up the fact that all three of us were concerned that we were exposed to an infectious disease unknowingly, she ROLLED HER EYES at me. Seriously? Yes! She is pretty much treating MRSA like it is the common cold. This scares the living bejeezus out of me.

So I am moving on, trying to find peace in all of that. Once I am to the point where I know I can talk to my mother without getting emotional, I will go to see her and try to talk to her.

Thank you all for the kind words of advice and encouragement. They mean the world to me.

Peace.

Rights

I learned a lot about rights today.  I learned I have the right to handle her money, to pay her bills.  I have the right to attend her Care Plan meetings and be active in her care.  I have the right to visit and sit there in silence for an hour or more.  I have the right to bring her food, treats and goodies and have them gobbled up with no thank you.  I have the right to ask questions but don't have to receive answers.

She, however, has the right to not have me know if she moved rooms in the nursing home.  She has the right to not have me know that she was hospitalized.  She has the right to not have me know that she has an infectious disease and I can enter the room with my precious heart dog and be exposed to the disease.  She has the right to refuse to take a shower and she will continue to have that right until she smells, she is then a hinderance to her roommate and at which time, the roommate has the right to make her take a shower. 

All in all, how can someone that I give so much to and have done so much for in the past have the right to exclude me.  I mean I have had to do unspeakable things for this woman, like clean out a refrigerator that was full of rotten meat and maggots and clean an apartment that had three feet of trash over every single square inch.  I did this so many times I can't remember how many.  How can this woman choose to keep her only child, her only close relative besides a cousin uninformed.  How selfish.

What?  Is this punishment?  It's not my fault she is where she is.  That is totally on her.  She is the one that totally killed her kidneys by refusing to go to the doctor or take care of herself.  I will no longer be abused.  You want independence?  You got it.  You are on your own girl.  Good luck with that.

That.  That right there is MY right.

Nursing Home - Caught in a Lie

Yesterday, I started my bitch fest at the top.  I called Dialysis and spoke with the social worker.  She was VERY helpful.  She informed me that my mother was admitted to the hospital on Tuesday, December 15 at 5:30 pm by her attending physician at the home.  Now, the nursing home told me that Dialysis sent her to the hospital.  This is not true, since she is finished with dialysis at 10 in the morning, she was admitted at 5:30 pm.

It gets better.  Dialysis didn't know she was hospitalized until mom didn't show up for dialysis on Thursday, December 17.  They called looking for her and were informed that she was in the hospital.  I really don't know how long she was in after that.

So, let's just add to the miscommunication.  I guess the home isn't communicating with anyone!  At all.

I filed a formal complaint with the Department of Health yesterday.  The lady I spoke with said I had three legitimate concerns.  Mysteriously enough, I got a notice today that there is a Care Plan meeting scheduled for January 6.  Usually these happen quarterly.  She just had one in December.

I hope by January 6 I am cooled down enough that I don't rip faces off.

Update on Mom

The day after Christmas, I received a notice in my mailbox that I had a certified letter from the nursing home. I figured that this letter would be informing me of her move and her infected finger. I go to the post office and pick up the letter, which is just a notice that my mother's Speech Therapy will no longer be covered by Medicare and I have the right to appeal. WTF?

So, I called the nursing home. I was informed that not only was my mother moved because she has an infected finger, but she was IN THE HOSPITAL for it while I was on vacation. She was moved because her she not only has Osteomyelitis in her finger, which is a bone infection, she has MRSA!

I asked why I wasn't informed of the move or the infection and was told that they asked her on three occasions if they should call me. She told them no, I was on vacation. Again, WTF? I asked the nurse if she was aware that my mother has a brain injury that caused damage to the part of her brain that is responsible for cognitive thinking, which is problem solving and decision making. I mean really? This woman is in a nursing home, should she be asked that? I have medical and financial Power of Attorney.

There are so many things wrong with this situation and I am totally pissed off. First, Dialysis sent her to the hospital. The social worker did not inform me. The hospital did not inform me and finally the nursing home did not inform me. Three facilities dropped the ball. All three have record of her brain injury and all three have copies of her POA paperwork.

Next, I spent more than an hour in her room with my dog and was not informed that she had MRSA. Her finger was not wrapped it was open for anyone to touch. Also, she is in a room with another woman who has MRSA. Thanks a fucking lot for letting me know to protect myself and my pet.

I have the number for the PA Department of Health and I've been urged by people to contact them to file a complaint. Once I cool down, I will decide what to do. Tomorrow, the dialysis social worker and I will be having words.

The Christmas Blahs have set in..

Well, I've been doing so good this year. Usually my blahs come about three to four weeks before Christmas and climax with the holiday. This year, they didn't come. I blamed it on the unseasonably warm weather. Cold, snowy weather always makes me cranky, especially when I have static in my hair and my skin feels like it will itch itself off of my body.

Well, my blahs set in last night. Last night was the most joyless Christmas Eve I've ever had. It started out good. Riley went to work with me and we sold gift certificates. BFF Jill stopped and we swapped gifts. I got a Letang bobble head, Racing Nuns and a purple Snuggie. All three of those gifts made me smile and laugh in some way. Riley and I then headed to Kibuk Cycle Sales to see Mr. Bruises and crew and participate in their holiday party for the staff and customers. Everyone was jolly there as well.

Then came the downslide, I headed to the nursing home to visit my mom. We went to her room with her gifts and her name was no longer on the door. Her bed was empty. An aid saw my confusion and told me that they moved her. No explanation why. She proceeds to take me to a whole other unit and I find where my mom is. I walk in and she's having a breathing treatment and she doesn't look good. She seems confused when I ask her if she wants presents. She says no. I ask why and she says because she has nothing to give me. I explain that that is okay and we would really like to give her some presents.

I start to ask her when and why she moved. She said she moved about a week ago, while I was returning from vacation and in the midst of non-stop work for the Snowball and the holiday. I asked why and she said it was because she has an infected finger. She holds it up and it is disgusting. It wasn't even wrapped. I don't know if she has MRSA or what and no one could seem to tell me. It was Christmas Eve so I am going to look for answers on Monday.

First, I want to know why the hell no one told me that they moved her. I mean I am not only her only child, I am her POA for everything. Second, why the hell did no one inform me of her infected finger. I mean really, they call me when they change a dosage on one of her meds, which I could really give two shits about and something important like a move because of an infected finger, I get no call. Needless to say, I am pissed. Then, I get all depressed seeing my mom like that. Even worse than normal. That's when all the blahs hit me all at once.

We had a nice visit and Riley seemed to enjoy seeing her as much as she enjoyed seeing him. She opened her gifts, I got her two outfits, a new fleece blanket for dialysis and a big tin, filled with her favorite candy. Normally, she would have dug right into that candy. She smiled and thanked me and set it beside her bed.

We headed home after that and I started to immediately make the pie, dessert and cole slaw for dinner the next day. Mr. Bruises insists on having a full Thanksgiving dinner for Christmas. Why? Because his mother always did that. You know what? Nancy HATED doing that second dinner. How do I know? Because I was the one that always cooked with her. We both hated doing all that work again. Me especially since I just work my ass off non stop for weeks. So, last year I put my foot down and told him if he wanted it, he will cook it. Well that was a disaster last year. Looks like I will be doing most of the work this year as well.

All I wanted to do last night was eat a little, drink a little, watch The Hangover and play Rock Band. I sat alone until 10, when Tammy came down. Mr. Bruises came home from church about 30 minutes later. I am Catholic. I don't go to church, long story for another post. I have a big problem with people who go to church once a year and Mr. Bruises and his dad fall into that category. I take that back, they go twice a year. Christmas and Easter.

So we did get to watch the movie and it was awesome. I went to bed right after that. I was just physically and emotionally exhausted.

I know that I really should be happy with the things that I have, but sometimes it is just so hard to get past the things I no longer have and Christmas really brings it all back.

Merry Christmas everyone. Hug your loved ones and keep them close.

Silence

I've officially become one of those people. Someone who has a parent in a nursing home and doesn't visit regularly. I used to visit once a week, then it became every other week. Recently, it became every three weeks on my way home from my chiropractor appointment. Due to salon scheduling, I can't stop all of the time because on some weeks I need to get to the salon right after my appointment.

I am finding visiting my mother to be a chore now. That sounds so horrible and I am ashamed to admit it. I procrastinate, and say, "Oh, I will go tomorrow", but then tomorrow turns into next week and so on.

I think my biggest problem is that when I go to visit, she doesn't talk much. She asks a few very bizarre questions and that's it. In the past, I would sit there and watch M*A*S*H, since that was on constantly in her room. Now, she just lays there in silence.

I attend her care plan meetings. I am very involved in her care. I am assured that she is NOT depressed. I am told that she is very pleasant to be around and that the staff just loves her. I truly believe this. I've witnessed it.

Yesterday, I witnessed my mother, who is supposed to be in so much pain from neuropathy in her feet, get up on her own and go into the bathroom. This supposed pain, is her reason for not wanting to walk around, go into the dining room, watch TV or play cards and games in the social room. This supposed pain is so bad that she can't sit in a wheel chair. I witnessed no pain or even slight discomfort yesterday.

Yesterday, she asked me to remove her tape and gauze on her arm, from her dialysis treatment that morning, before I left. I then watched her call the nurse. When the aids came in to see what she needed, she asked them to hammer a nail in her wall to hang her clock. They said they would get the maintenance man to do it. After they left, I asked her why she didn't have the nurses remove her bandage, since that is what they are here to do, not hammer nails in the wall and she replied that she didn't think of that.

I can't tell if she is trying to punish me. I have nothing to do with this. Her lack of ambition is the reason why she is where she is. She could be in an assisted living facility or even living independently with minimal care, but she chose to stop living. If she is trying to punish me, she is only ending up punishing herself since it's making my visits less and less frequent. I am not the only one. Her best friend is coming less and less too. I am certain that she is at the same point that I am.

In the past, I always thought that it was horrible when people would have loved ones in nursing homes and then only visit every now and then. I now understand. I made the mistake of judging people and situations I knew nothing about.

I don't want much. I just want some conversation. I just want some acknowledgement that I am there. I just want to know that she is enjoying the sundae, candy or whatever treat that I brought her that she is woofing down without even chewing. I just want to know that she wants me to visit.

Nursing Homes are Amusing

I spend a lot of time in nursing homes. My mother has lived in one since February 2006 and now one of my oldest and sweetest clients, Mary, has been living in one since spring. I just spent the last hour with Mary, visiting and doing her nails.

Nursing homes can be very entertaining. I think a reality show would be really funny. They all have their own characters. My mother's nursing home has quite a few. There is Thomas, who has no legs and can't talk very well. I learned recently that he was deaf, which explains a lot. He squeals with delight when he sees me. I think I am one of his girlfriends. He communicates with me by mouthing the words in a very exaggerated way and spelling words with his finger in the air.

Then there is Merle. He buzzes around in his chair everywhere, asking anyone he can see to unhook his safety belt. Of course, we have to tell him no.

Mary's home is a little bit more exciting. It's more of a home than a facility, like mom's. The residents at Mary's are more able bodied and just need some assistance. There are some constants though. They almost all have walkers and the women almost all wear wigs. I am fairly certain that even though they watch TV, they have no idea what they are watching.

At both places, the residents are very well taken care of. The nurses and aids truly like the residents. You can just see it and feel it.

After finishing Mary's nails, I sat with her awhile. We sat there and watched out the window as a big, beautiful, black cat frolicked in the immense yard, behind the home. We watched him hunker down, flick his tail and then pounce on something. I think it was a bug.

Even though it is painful to see my mother and Mary, not being able to care for themselves, it is a comfort to see them both in homes like these. They are receiving good care.

Happy Conception Day to me!!!!

April 30, 1966, my mother and father married. Nine months, to the day, January 30, 1967, I was born. My mother always told me that I was conceived on their wedding night. Right............ Anywho, I've always made a joke out of it. I was on a cruise once during that date and my friends had the waiters sing "Happy Conception Day" to me. It was a welcome change from the constant Happy Birthday, Happy Wedding Day, Happy Anniversary songs that they had been singing every night at dinner. I tell you, the place went silent when they started singing. People were like "What are they singing?!"

I have a couple of good friends that share this day with me as their birthday, Kara and Steph. Another special lady was born this day as well. Happy Birthday Nancy, I miss you!