And the saga continues....

I had to step up again today and be the adult. That dreaded part of my life that makes me want to run crying for my blankie and stay in bed all day.

About two weeks ago, my mom became combative with her caregivers while they were trying to bathe my stepfather (she was jealous and thought they were trying to steal her guy). She then ran out of the house. "Eloped" is the word the social worker used today. A word that brings up a different scenario to me than how they use the word. Needless to say, 911 was called and my mother was brought to the hospital. She was kept there until midnight and then they finally decided to admit her for evaluation. I wasn't told until after the fact. I was told the next day, in fact, and that was by my sister. Not my brother who lives in the same state as I do. And really by then they had already sent her packing saying that she wasn't ready for "facility living", but they did give her some extra drugs. And if you've read my blog you know that I am not a fan of "let's drug them up so they don't give us any shit" when it comes to my mother and her Alzheimers.

So today I was bringing her to see a new doctor. It is a group of psychiatrists and social workers that specialize in geriatric care. Good place to be, I guess. I was a bit late in picking her up, but thankfully this new doctor is maybe 5 miles from her home and in an area that I am well familiar with. She seemed drugged. She could not hold a conversation and she could not follow simple instructions on how to get into my car. I literally had to lift her up to get her into the seat and then pretty much tug her out when we got there. I'm pretty sure if you asked her what my name was today, she couldn't tell you. Oh wait, they did ask her and she had no clue. The social worker took me and left her with a doctor. Then we came back together and another doctor came with with the social worker. They asked more questions (some of which I could not answer because I am not her POA or Conservator) and then basically told me that my mother is in the late stages of Alzheimers. Dude really? Like I didn't know this? Sigh. So we're charging medicaid and blue cross $150 for you to waste my time for 2 hours on one of the last days of summer vacation with my kids so you can tell me what I already know? Pulease.

And then they spoke of the fact that she needs some kind of stimulation during the day because that is likely why she isn't sleeping well at night. Not enough daytime stimulation and likely the current caregivers are not even aware of what should be happening with her. Adult day care. Oh terrific. Great. I want that for her too, but how the FUCK am I supposed to pay for it? Right. Did you not get the memo when I spoke to the social worker that all her care is paid for from my stepfather's lawyer? A lawyer that we did not hire and really was hired to act in my stepfather's best interest? Oh I'm sure she is a very nice lawyer, Miss Social Worker, but I've dealt with her before at my last house closing and she was a total and complete, unprofessional BITCH. So yeah, my brother will have to broach that subject. We may be able to get small grants through the state's Alzheimer's group. I have numbers and papers and my head is swimming. Oh and another appointment on September 9th.

So I bring her back to the house and her PM caregiver tells me that my mom is so much better now that she is home from the hospital. Yep. I'm sure she is, Miss Caregiver. She is loopy, can't think straight and shuffles around on her feet like an old woman. Of course, that is how you wanted her to begin with, right? Just one month ago, she was a totally different woman. And yes, she was still forgetful and couldn't always find the words she needed, but she wasn't like this.

I feel like a failure. No money, no job, no say...I cannot care for her here and I cannot care for her there. I can drive her to appointments. Big fuckin' whoop. Did I mention that I hate this part of my life?