Friends just call me Ross

The nurse in charge of setting up Home Health Care came this morning.

She stayed about 2 hours and collected a ton of information.

On Tuesday, a guy is coming to evaluate my Mom's ability, or lack of ability, to care for herself.  If she qualifies, the paperwork will be passed on to Medicare and her supplemental insurance company.  If her insurance approves coverage, then, and only then , will my Mom be able to receive some medical assistance.

Until then, we will continue to assist her in every way we are qualified to do so.

Neither of us can draw blood or do a lab analysis for her Cumadin levels.

In the meantime, I had to go back home because I have a doctor's appointment of my own tomorrow.   Our baby sister will hopefully take my place until I can get back.  She works full time but would be there for her after work.

My brother Brother Peter does such an amazing job of caring for my Mom.

I was able to handle all the stress of this past week, until she started saying hateful things about him behind his back.  I reminded her of all that he has done/is doing for her and that without his help, she would be in a nursing home.  Only, I didn't word it quite that nicely.  I am ashamed and sorry that I lost my cool.  But it wasn't her failing body that I couldn't handle.  It is her failing mind.  She sleeps 20 to 23 hours a day.  Her waking hours are filled with fear and confusion.  But, mostly she is frustrated.  I am sure her frustration lends to some of her darker moments.

She has no concept of what day, month or year it is.

This morning, she wanted me to open the drapes so she could watch my sister Teri get on the school bus.  My sister Teri is 49 years old.  

Besides being mean and nasty sometimes, there is the fixation.

She keeps going on and on and on and on about wanting us to take her to some non-existent park to look for her mother's rings.  (They went missing when they moved her from one hospital facility to another.  They were stolen and reported stolen but are gone forever.)  

We can explain the reality of the situation until we are both blue in the face, but she refuses to believe us.  My brother has driven her all around for hundreds of miles asking her to point out the park where she left the rings sitting on two wooden posts...just to humor her.  She feels so badly that she is responsible for the loss of her mother's rings, so we try to explain that she didn't LOSE them, they were STOLEN from her.  All to no avail.    

Dimentia is proof positive that we were never designed to grow so old.

Thanks for allowing me to vent. ❤️❤️❤️