If I agreed with you, we'd both be wrong, or, the week from hell.

Hello friends, I thought I'd share some of the latest happenings from Momville. Brother Mike and I exchanged some really harsh words on Saturday before he left for a job in Alaska on Sunday. He had not said anything to me in advance of accepting this month- or six-week-long project, so I was more than a little unhappy.  My harsh words were "Why wait till tomorrow, why don't you get a flight out tonight and don't ever come back?" His were "You're blowing this situation way out of proportaion. Just hire somebody to take my place while I'm gone." Anyway, he is gone and Tom and I are going to have to keep things together until he gets back. Then we're going to move forward for placement for Shirley.

On Tuesday, I finally introduced the Depends line of underwear. Mom was pretty unhappy, but she finally agreed to wear them, and just in time, as she has begun to lost both bladder and bowel control. It embarasses her no end, but it is what it is.   

Wednesday, Tom arrived to find her lying sideways in her bed and in excruciating pain. She was crying that her back hurt, couldn't sit up or roll over without shrieking "It hurts, it hurts!" so we did the only thing we could do. We called 911 and the paramedics transported her to the local ER. 4 hours and several painful ex-rays later, the doctor said nothing was wrong with her, wrote her a prescription for high caliber Ibuprofen, and sent her home. In order to be sure that it didn't happen again, I decided to spend the night at her house. Talk about nightmare on Elm Street.

Mom went to bed at 8 and insisted I do the same. I was warned not to be bringing any men into the house and not to be going out anywhere. So I retired to my room with a book. A short time later, I began to hear her talking and crying to herself and to God. It seems she thought she had done something to cause her friend Ed to leave her. She was begging God to please let her have one more chance, that she would do anything if she could see him again. I could only take it for so long before I went and got her up. We sat on the couch wrapped in an afghan, she had some warm milk and I got her calmed and reassured that Ed would certainly be back.

At 11, I awoke to hear her shouting my name and coming down the hall toward my room. I got up, calmed her again, got her toileted and back in bed. At 3, we repeated that scenario. At 4, I awoke to hear her talking out loud again, and she was saying, "God, how am I going to get that woman out of my house? I am going to have to call the police! I want her GONE NOW!" What can I say? I got up, got dressed, gave her a hug and came home to fall into my own bed with Butterball. I won't be spending the night with her again any time soon.

So to end this whiny post, all I can say is that when Power of Attorney Mike returns from his working vacation, we will be finding mom a new home in a place that can offer better care than I can give her.  She deserves the best.  That's all for now, my best to you all.  I'll leave you with a picture of my parents in a far-away time . . .