|DIARY OF AN URBAN MILKMAID|
| Boy, is my mom mad at me - and my brother!
She and the bro, had a talk today about her living arrangements. She was hell-bent on living with him and his kids. Him? Not so much.
Those two can barely spend an hour together without a screaming fight, with both their bloodpressures at top levels. She wants to live full time with that?
So, he was going over the pros and cons of them being roommates, and offering other ideas that he'd gotten from her friend, a visiting nurse. She suggested a bedside commode, so she wouldn't break a hip falling down on her way to the potty at night. Forget about it! was her retort. He suggested a hospital-type bed with railings she could pull herself up with I'm not sleeping in a hospital bed! was her sweet reply. Going to an assisted living residence? Too many old people! He gave up...
I called her to find out if the home health nurse had been by. Nope. I called the discharge planner at the hospital and got her voicemail. She didn't call me back.
I did stop a home health nurse that visits an old lady in my building. She says that Medicare pays for that service. Not every day, but depending upon what the doctor orders and how bad off the patient is - they pay! The nurse takes vitals, makes sure the patient is doing okay. If the patient needs a shower, they can make sure the patient doesn't fall over. The lady who works in my building, does the old lady's laundry for her, takes her on walks in the neighborhood, will cook meals... Jebus! Nice! If my mother had that a couple or three times a week - plus one of those medic alert necklace gizmos - she'd be doing alright.
She's really pissed though. Making all kinds of phone calls to friends and relatives, trying to score a place to stay. It's really sad.
I feel like I need to defend my position of not taking her in. Or maybe I just need to see it written down somewhere. I work in an office, with two women who have parents - and grandparents that live with them. They travel in packs - on vacations and everywhere with 6 or 7 members of extended family. They look at me like I'm crazy when I say that the home environment I have carefully created for me, and my daughter - is vitally important to my sanity. My very life! When I drive down my street, in the neighborhood I adore - and I see the green, the birds - all the places I know and love - my blood pressure goes down. I'm calm. Endorphins flow in my synapses. I close and lock my front door - against the outside world and all that chaos. I choose who enters. I answer the phone if I feel like it. I can sit on my balcony and feel the breeze, and watch the birds or the clouds go past. I can get centered here. I can regroup, relax, and refresh. This is MY world. I earned this. My child is happy here, for the first time in years - she feels secure in her cool, teenager's bedroom. I know where everything is. It's mine. We belong here. I can't give that up. I won't.
|Buh Bye! |
October 05, 2008
Be Afraid, People.... Really Afraid
One Last Bitchfest for the Road
Get the Popcorn Ready
I'm a Rich Ho-Bag
|Marriage is love.|