Challenges!

In the previous post I seem to have left out a few important things.  Perhaps I was trying to be nice, as seems to be my instinct most of the time.  I think I get that from my plucky Mom--she wouldn't dream of complaining about her treatment at Bremerton Health and Rehab.  But yesterday as she watched me fly off a wheelchair that I  tried to sit on next to her bed, I think she might have changed her mind.  There was not, and has never been, a chair next to my Mom's bed.  There is a chair next to the other bed in the room, but it's Frances's chair, so I've never pulled it over to the other side of the room to use.  Yesterday, the wheelchair was there, there was a pillow on the seat, and I sat on it.  The brakes were not on and there were my Mom's books underneath the pillow, so it shot out from under me and I went down hard on the floor.  I am as happy as I can be that there was a nursing aid in the room to see me hit the deck, because she can testify to it when an investigation is done based on the complaint paperwork that I completed, with tears streaming down my face. 

 I had a few other complaints, too.  Mom had one pair of underwear on her body when she came into the nursing home and I brought another pair the next day.  Now, both are missing.  I had filled out another form that stated I would take her laundry home with me, having heard stories from friends about clothing and other belongings going missing during nursing home stays.  And then there was the issue of my Mom's broken arm immobilizer, which was not attached as it should have been, leaving her poor, broken arm hanging down at her side.  When I asked to have it put on properly, the nurse (who I've liked very much) was unable to do it and felt a part of the brace was missing.  She ran off to look for the missing piece.  A half hour later a PT fellow came in, looked at her brace and put it on correctly.  There was no missing piece.  The nurse did not know how to attach this type of brace.  All of these things went into my complaint.

I feel as though I have been angry for 5 days now and it's not fun to feel that way.  Just below the anger is sorrow and just below that is fear.  I'm not sure those emotions go in that order, but all are there.  The sorrow is for seeing my Mom in this predicament, where she is absolutely helpless, except for her voice, and as I said before, she would not dare to complain.  The anger is because I don't know how to make myself heard except by yelling--it seems the only way to get anyone's attention.  The medical system rules are unknown to me--I am having to learn as I go and the learning curve is very steep.  I feel helpless, too, but at least I can walk and find the person that needs to be talked to, I can drive my car to get the prescription or to "get in the face" of the nurse who isn't responding.  But it makes me angry that I have to do these things and glad that I have the balls to do them.  A more passive person would have a very hard time.  

The fear is of the future.  In the years since my father died in 2001 I have learned that my habit of projecting my fears into the future, in other words, trying to figure out what is going to happen so that maybe I can control things, does not work.  After my Dad died I was extremely concerned and fearful of what my brothers would do to each other (they hated each other), what would happen when Mom would die someday, what kind of horrible battles would occur over Mom's healthcare and ultimate death?  I was so tied up in knots over these potential hazards and crises that I ended up in therapy and on anti-depressants.  The therapy helped and the Paxil helped and during the 7 years on the Paxil I was able to see my behavior and learn in a calmer way.  And my other brother dies in 2002, something I could never have predicted, even in my wilder attempts at prognostication.  So I'm trying not to play this out too far into the future, but the fact is my Mom has fallen twice in two years and both times she has broken bones.  Two years ago she fell on her porch and broke her ankle in 4 places.  And this time it's her arm and her kneecap.  I can't help but wonder what will happen next.

I have cried in my husband's arms many times in the past 5 days, I have cried on the phone with my best friend, I have cried at the nursing home, and I have sent SOS emails to my friends.  I think that's a better way than trying to stay adult and mature.  Adult and mature works well when you are in offices, but I, at least, have to let down that facade when I am at home, and give in to all the fears and sorrows of this new challenge.

Let me say one final thing about the word "challenge".  I have noticed in the past few years that the word has been lovingly adopted by the "caring" professions, including the education system and the managerial professions.  No, it's not a problem, dear, it's a challenge.  We don't have a crisis, we have a challenge.  Well let me tell you, I can think of a bunch of other words that start with C that more appropriately describe problems:  crap, crisis, corruption, catastrophe, calamity, cheerless, cheesy,chilling, choleric,circuitous, clamor, crash, cloddish, clumsy, coercion, combat, curse, cry --I have no time to keep listing C words, but I imagine you have some of your own.  It's time for me to go pick up a pain killer prescription and go participate in my Mom's doctor's appointment.  Wish me hope.