Tick Tock
So, between now and Sunday, Jane needs to decide where the heck she will be living. This is so:
*we can move her crap out of the assisted living by Sunday
*call around and see if we can get a mover-with probably 24 hours notice
*pack all her crap
*go pay the new place so she can move in
*steam clean the carpet at the old place, because she is a messy eater and the cat would use the carpet like a litter box when he was mad at her
She looked at a place today and she likes it, but she wants to explore her options. It's another assisted living, but it concerns us that it's assisted living. We're of the mind that she needs skilled care. She happily told me they have an outside company come in three times a day to do medication management.
I asked "Do they take care of insulin?" and she kept telling me they come in three times a day. When I asked "Jane, did you ask if they take care of insulin for you?," I got a vague answer. Obviously, she didn't ask.
This afternoon, clock ticking, no phone to easily communicate with her, I stopped by the rehab center with her Halloween costume items and we talked briefly. She wants an identical iPhone to the old one, so plans are in the works to replace it.
When I walked in, she was talking with a social worker, who pretty much had the same questions I had, namely "Where are you going? Who will be helping you move? When is this happening?" and she got the vague answers I got, except for one thing.
"My brother will be moving me, because he's the only person who I can rely on."
One, she hasn't talked to him about this. Yet again, she assumes it will be done-but bitches that we're never there when she needs us.
And two? WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING, RUNNING MY ASS OFF DOING CRAP FOR HER ALL THE TIME?
I guess because I don't drop caring for the kids and my studies the second she needs things, I am not reliable.
Yes, I am pissed. Seriously pissed.
I let it slide because there is too much going on, but it is frustrating to do so much and be standing in the room as she states that only Ed is reliable.
Screw this.
*we can move her crap out of the assisted living by Sunday
*call around and see if we can get a mover-with probably 24 hours notice
*pack all her crap
*go pay the new place so she can move in
*steam clean the carpet at the old place, because she is a messy eater and the cat would use the carpet like a litter box when he was mad at her
She looked at a place today and she likes it, but she wants to explore her options. It's another assisted living, but it concerns us that it's assisted living. We're of the mind that she needs skilled care. She happily told me they have an outside company come in three times a day to do medication management.
I asked "Do they take care of insulin?" and she kept telling me they come in three times a day. When I asked "Jane, did you ask if they take care of insulin for you?," I got a vague answer. Obviously, she didn't ask.
This afternoon, clock ticking, no phone to easily communicate with her, I stopped by the rehab center with her Halloween costume items and we talked briefly. She wants an identical iPhone to the old one, so plans are in the works to replace it.
When I walked in, she was talking with a social worker, who pretty much had the same questions I had, namely "Where are you going? Who will be helping you move? When is this happening?" and she got the vague answers I got, except for one thing.
"My brother will be moving me, because he's the only person who I can rely on."
One, she hasn't talked to him about this. Yet again, she assumes it will be done-but bitches that we're never there when she needs us.
And two? WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING, RUNNING MY ASS OFF DOING CRAP FOR HER ALL THE TIME?
I guess because I don't drop caring for the kids and my studies the second she needs things, I am not reliable.
Yes, I am pissed. Seriously pissed.
I let it slide because there is too much going on, but it is frustrating to do so much and be standing in the room as she states that only Ed is reliable.
Screw this.
Comments
If she's in an ALF, it's only a matter of time before she has another 600+ blood sugar episode.
Having a kitchen full of crap she shouldn't eat is a recipe for disaster with her, and she refuses to believe that she must stop eating those things.