2007-04-30

updates @ 8:59 p.m.

Topic matter aside, I gotta say it's kinda groovy to have an inside track.

Update 1:

I. Feel. Vindicated. I shouldn't, because it's sad and heartbreaking why I do.

I finally got through to the nurses' station and got a little more on my mom's condition. Brother had finally found a ride and was there. She was put in restraints this morning and they wanted someone there with her so they wouldn't have to continue to do so. In an exact replica of the last time she checked out six years ago, she's paranoid, delusional and extremely confused. She'd pulled out her IV and was roaming about the room, so...

The nurse I talked to hooked me up with the nurse case worker since it looked like I might have to obtain medical power of attorney. I was able to raise her straightaway and while she hadn't seen her yet, we did some chatting about the what ifs and such. She called me after her rounds and confirmed that there's nothing we can do at present considering her condition. She told me what she knew and what she'd seen and asked me a barrage of questions. Had she any history of mental conditions? Stroke? Heart disease? I confirmed what my brother had told her about her habits, how she's been able to take care of herself, cooking, cleaning, getting around, no issues. I did not verbally take issue with her statement "your brother says that she lives with him", even though my brain screamed that he'd never left HER house. He is not the issue here, I chanted. But then...

She said she'd asked him about my mother's medications and he couldn't tell her much. Now, I know she's on a battery of pills that she takes daily, so I wasn't surprised that he didn't know. Now, I know I can tell you what AS is on at the drop of a hat from hypertension treatment to vitamin supplements. But I'm just OCD like that. Anywhat, she kind of tiptoed around him. Talked about what might happen as part of her release plan, carefully stating that she might need care and could be released to him. That was when I spoke up. I mentioned that he was epileptic as well, only to a much more extreme extent. That he'd been on heavy doses of barbituates since he was quite young and that had kind of scrambled his brain unofficially. That I was concerned that he could not care for her properly as she had detailed, i.e., setting out her meds, ensuring she took them, etc.

She made a very small sound that communicated "Oh, my god, I am so glad you've said something and now I don't have to." She said "well, I noticed that something wasn't quite right, like when he couldn't tell me about her meds. He also got...kind of confused when I asked for his phone number. He couldn't tell me what it was."

I could have shouted. If nothing else comes out of this, someone else, a neutral third party has seen what I have been trying to communicate for decades. The boy ain't right and something needs to be done. She made it pretty clear that she could not in good conscience sign off on releasing her into his care. Mind you, pigeons, trying to determine what should happen should it come to that is a whole different ball of wax, but it hopefully goes a long way in keeping him from being responsible for her dying because he just didn't know what to do.

He just didn't know what to do.

#2 - Am I bad daughter?

Didn't hear anything else from anyone yesterday. Can only assume that no news is good news or at least there has been no worse news to report. Still haven't been up there. It's odd to say "up" after spending so many years in Michigan and saying "down". I asked AS last night was I bad daughter for not rushing up there. He confirmed that I only would be if there was something I could do by being there. And there's not, short of shepherding my 41 year old brother which I'm just not willing to do. The point is kind of moot anyway, seeing as how we're pretty much destitute and payday is Monday. The hellishness with that is that there won't be as much as there has been. My tax situation was mortifying because I made the belated discovery that the Firmy Firm had NOT been taking my federal deduction, which means a) next year's taxes won't be much better and b) I'll see a marked decrease on this next check now that it's going to be applied finally. And of course, this is the rent check to boot.

I suppose I should call brother. Don't want to. Spent a better portion of the night before I finally drifted off in the wee obsessing about what would happen should mom not improve. As my mind starts to delve into the details, another usually silent part of me whispers "there is another option: just walk away from it all, this is just too hard" and I think that's part of the reason why I'm withdrawing now. Let them see what it's like to not have someone in your family that you can turn to for help without begging. Let them see what it's like to have someone turn an indifferent eye to you when you have a need. What it's like when someone ignores you when you need advice. All these things are just awful to think, I know, but dammit, I can't continue being the go-to girl, I just can't. It's an awesome responsibility even in the best of times, but with things the way they are for me right now, it's all but insurmountable. I can't bring myself to continue to play clean up for them when it didn't have to be this way.

#4

Nothing. I asked him when he called me first Wednesday night to give everyone he talked to at the hospital my number and have them call me to tell me the exact same information he was getting. Never happened. I haven't heard from the case worker since Thursday, either and she promised to keep me updated. No news is good news, right? I called him Saturday to get an update and he was rude and brusque as usual. I'd interrupted him eating his cereal, which he hung up on me to go and finish.

I'm done. I've done all I can to help these people help themselves. I can't do it anymore.

I've poured myself into it to find it was all for naught. My mother lives in this world where she believes that my brother is a grown man, the man of the house. And while he did indeed just turn 41 last weekend, he is not 41 mentally/emotionally. She acts like because I'm not there and don't see "how he tries", that I don't know. So if that's what she believes, then fine. Let him deal with it/everything. Let them deal with each other.

A long time ago, when my dad was still alive, I went home for a weekend. I was probably at the end of undergrad or in grad school. My brother was still washing dishes at Steak & Ale and rode his bike to work. It was raining that night. Dad was at work at Sears, mom couldn't take him for some reason so she asked me. I had already explained to all of them that I couldn't really be around him, but I promised my dad that I'd try. So I did. And it went as badly as it could have. He criticized a left turn I made into the parking lot because that was what had gotten him his umpteenth violation and led to him not having a license any longer. I was like, "no, what got you cited was the ACCIDENT YOU CAUSED. Do NOT tell me how to drive when YOU can't keep a license." And it just went from there. Damn, had almost made it. Then in the middle of all this yelling and pontificating, he abruptly changes the subject. "...I'm right, you're wrong and you shouldn't have made that turn because it's ILLEGAL, don't you know??!?!? So what are we going to for mom and dad's anniversary?" *blink* We're here. Get out of the car. No, he doesn't want to get out of the car, he wants to talk about THIS RIGHT NOW. I ended up literally/physically shoving him out of the car. People going inside the restaurant are like "miss? do you need help?" He runs around to the driver's side, I take off, tires screeching, heart pounding, chest heaving, wanting to hurtmaimkill. I go straight to Sears to see my dad. He's on the floor and I wait until he's done and headed back to his counter. I go right to him, blurt out what happened and finish with "I'm sorry, daddy, I tried!" and burst into tears. He holds me. Tells me he understands and that it's okay.

I'm sorry Daddy. I tried.

--later--

Nurse caseworker called. Mom is fine. She'll be released tomorrow. The bonus is that as part of her release plan, they are including home health care services, like an aide who will drop by and check on her, make sure she's taking her meds like she should, etc. This is a bonus because it means that they understand that brother cannot handle this sort of thing by himself. Perhaps this will have been the wake-up call she needed. But I can only hope.

#5

So I sucked it up and called her.

SHE THINKS I WAS THERE. AND HAS BEEN TELLING PEOPLE THAT I WAS. Shit. At some point, my Honest Abe self will have to tell her should she ask for details. But she is absolutely convinced that I was there.

I told her that I tried to get to her but was thwarted by her son. She said "oh, he was just trying to right, he wasn't doing it on purpose." I replied, "Yeah mom. That's the problem" and she was silent for a moment. Told her we'd have this dicussion later. She's supposed to call me when she gets home.

We'll see what happens.