Dental Appointment

I spent last week, off and on, lining up a ride for mom to get to her dental appointment and back, this coming Tuesday. It started with:

  • The dental office calling to tell ME that the community didn’t have a ride for mom, not only for her Tuesday appointment, but for any of six other potential dates stretching six weeks into the future. I immediately,
  • Wrote the GM. We went round and round, for DAYS, until,
  • I was able to show him proof that,
  • The failure here is the ability of the concierge to take notes, disseminate information, and communicate clearly, concisely and correctly.” And sent him the text confirmation from the dentist as to what time and date the appointment was.
  • He wrote back apologizing.

I know that the above only gives a flavor to the enormous frustration five days of this bullshit caused. The GM, who has asked me in the past to let him know when the concierge disappoints, failed by believing not only what concierge said, but by believing what they said my mother said! Hello!! Further, how can a driver not be available for six weeks. Oh, not to mention the email the concierge sent me saying there was no one available into March. I offered up to the GM that mom might be the driver’s least favorite resident to transport, but given that it was an included service, please spell out the parameters of the service for future reference, etc. The GM, who mom has a complex about, is going to take her! I had to go on a walk Friday afternoon to shake out all the ire once this was put to rights.

I called mom this evening to remind her about her Tuesday appointment. She briefly insisted it was tomorrow. I let her know the dentist is closed on Monday’s, and then kept her focused on message for the rest of our brief conversation. She was very jumbled about the day and date, and sounded shaky, but not unhappy.

I haven’t talked to mom since Christmas, and feel bad that I dreaded making this call. I always assume the worst no matter how many times calls go ok. As much as I want to let her dives into returning to the Island roll off my back, I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to, and so anticipate any one-on-one interaction with trepidation. As I rang off, I said we’d chat soon, and she said “Oh Good. That’d be nice.” We might talk in three days, to three months. It’ll feel the same to her. We exchanged I love you’s. It was almost normal, and yet so, so not normal, given the week’s lead up to the call, much less that my mama is in a constant retreat from who she used to be.

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