Jane says:

  • She fell going down the front stairs, of which there are no more than four.
  • She landed on her right hand. One finger is swollen and very painful, but she doesn’t think it’s broken.
  • A home health person is coming twice a week. She was there when the fall occurred (thank goodness)
  • She said the home health organization told her she couldn’t drive anymore. This alarmed me. Only the department of licensing can revoke your license in our state. Other can turn you in for crappy driving, but the state does the dirty work. When I told Jane this, she said, “Oh, I know, but I have to go along with what they say.”
  • She said she hadn’t gone to visit AL communities when Dan was up last month, that he was grumpy, and she didn’t like him being in charge of everything (from more than a state away).
The home health folks say:
  • When the care giver is with Jane, the care giver has to drive. They will untangle Jane’s misunderstanding. While I’d rather Jane not drive, I’d also she rather drive to the end of her long driveway to get her mail, and not be isolated, or out of food.
  • She cut her finger gardening. 
  • That they will ask the folks listed on Jane’s care plan (my eldest and Dan) to add me to it, so home health can include me in on details… Like what actually happened. Due to HIPPA, they can’t tell me what the caregiver reported today, after my initial contact with the home health office. As I am the geographicly closest relative to Jane, it seems a good idea that I should know what really happened in a situation like this. An accurate historian, Jane is not. My daughter said she would authorize this access. 
Otherwise, Jane and I had the usual conversation. She had 8 reasons a hand rail couldn’t be installed on the front stairs, after agreeing it should have been done years ago. You see, it wouldn’t have helped anyways, because she was stepping down right next to the house…. Without her cane. Yes, she’s fast approaching 95, but this is Wackadoodle reasoning, if you can call it reasoning.

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