Mom

Mom is in a pain- and drug-induced stupor at a rehab facility. Two or so months ago, she was taken to a hospital after holding my dad hostage and nonetheless managing to wander off and have 911 called on her. She was there for a couple of weeks for testing, to see whether she would be responsive to various drugs, when she got up in the middle of the night, fell, and broke her hip. Fast forward to a couple of hospitals and bladder infections later, she hasn't really moved since. She screams when we try to adjust her pillows (we're not sure if it's actual pain or fear). There is actual pain--in fact, the latest is that she has kidney stones--and she's been on opiates nonstop for over a month.

That, in short, is why I was in Boston but didn't blog any mom stories. I guess I could have blogged a couple of dad stories (particularly an argument over whether socks could or should be recycled--I found a very dusty one somewhere as I was cleaning--as usual, I removed about two canisters of dust from the house without really trying). Dad insisted that the sock should be recycled, and couldn't understand why it wouldn't be.

Dad is exhausted and overwhelmed. He drives an hour each way to see mom (I'm nagging him to find a closer facility, but we're limited to those that have memory care, available beds, and Russian-speaking staff). Mom isn't saying much (except "oh what pain!") but when she does talk, it's in Russian. Did you know that nursing homes run $10,000 a month and are not covered by Medicare? So there's the fun of figuring out how to pay once the rehab period runs out in a couple of months.

At first I was relieved when mom was institutionalized; I'd been nagging dad for over a year. She was a danger to herself and to him, and also an emotional strain. I'd come to accept the fact that she would be miserable and angry for the rest of her life, but it was an additional blow to see her in such pain. I hope she recovers to the point where she can at least be physiologically at peace, if not emotionally.