January 11, 2017

1/18/17 Some of this is repetitive, but it was written a week ago, and I don’t have it in me to edit.


Mom is at the Island nursing home for a week or two, after being told she is unable to return home because her condition renders her unsafe in her home. The condition, spontaneous loss of consciousness behind the wheel, isn’t diagnosed as of yet. A trip off Island for an EEG is in the works to look for seizures, which mom assures us she is not having. Her doctor did a good job of holding the line with her. No matter what she said, his answer was unwavering: ‘You cannot drive anymore, without driving you cannot live on the farm, and it is not safe for you to live on your own.’

Mom has forgotten, a dozen times today, that she is at the nursing home for observation, therapy, and longer term planning, due to the fact that she totaled two cars in 10 days due to unexplained loss of consciousness. I keep bringing her around to this, and it’s painful for her, and me, particularly when she starts the conversation pondering what sort of car she should buy, or asking me if her car is at her house. She was also really unhappy that she was unable to return home before heading to the nursing home. Really Unhappy. I told her “They won’t let me take you.” When she got borderline hostile about it, I told her if she passed out while we were at the house, I wouldn’t be able to lift her. This is why it’s not safe… She’s going to go around and around, and I am going to plumb the depths of my patience.
I picked up clothes and reading material for her, and returned to learn she was very agitated after having a social dinner. She said she’d tried to call me again and again. It turned out she was calling my mainland house number. We settled into a PBS show for an hour before I needed to get back and have some dinner. Food has been hit and miss today.
I was compulsive about the house, after taking dozens of pictures recording the state I found it in. It’s akin to what my daughter and son-in-law’s living room looks like at the end of the day! A fairly even spread of toys across the room, only mom’s house was a combo of paper and magazines strewn across the entire house. Every surface. And if it wasn’t paper, it was the gentle chaos of the kitchen, including an electric frying pan, whose lid I peered under, after doing the hand wash dishes, that looks like she’s been cooking in it over and over without washing it.
Just before getting into bed I went through the bathroom drawers. I should know better than to be surprised… The most antique item was an eye wash that expired in 2005.
On my way in tomorrow I’ll stop at the dump. There is an astonishing amount of recycle now, and enough garbage, mostly from the bathroom, to make a dump run worthwhile.

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