Gotta Love These Kinds of Days
So, it started last night. I wanted to take a shower, but Ed was gathering stuff to do laundry. Another thing I hate is that the hot water heater might be set at 95% maximum temperature water, so I won't bathe if other water is being used-since it's already about 40 degrees cooler than I like for showering (if I come out of the shower with bright pink skin, I am happy).
I thought I'd be nice and switch the laundry around, grab a towel and head into the shower-except that he never actually started the wash. Plans of going to bed at a decent hour were scrubbed. I showered, started laundry, then stayed up to put those clothes in the dryer because dude, laundry stinks if you let it sit overnight!
We actually started cutting Z's around 2am.
At 5:30 ish, Ed wakes, uses the bathroom and was heard muttering about damn itchy dry skin. I woke up. Once the light went out, I drifted back to sleep.
Not too long after that, the cat decided to walk all over my legs, especially the RSD leg. It was not quite as bad as Vern Troyer's machetes, but that 6 pound cat feels like each paw weighed 80 pounds and was very pointy. Of course, I woke up. Thanks cat. It took considerably longer than the first time, but eventually, I drifted back to sleep.
Next, the boys were heard arguing because apparently, GameTeen decided to skip his meds last night and woke up crazy early to go in his brother's room to play video games. This went on for a few minutes and I stayed in my bed, because Mamma ain't happy when she doesn't get sleep and if I got up out of bed, things would get ugly.
It took a really long time to get to sleep.
No sooner did I close my eyes than Ed's phone rang with the Jane ring tone. You know, the most obnoxious one they make for iPhones because well, she's annoying 99.9% of the time. She was all chipper at 6:15 am, informing Ed "Transport is on their to take me to the Rehabilitation center!" He spent five minutes talking to her and later told me she made absolutely no sense.
I then closed my eyes again, tried to go to sleep-and my alarm went off.
On the way to deliver GameTeen to school, I called the hospital social worker that I'd spoken with yesterday (who was pretty clear that Jane would NOT be approved for rehab because 1. It had been less than 60 days (54) since her last hospitalization, the Medicare benchmark and 2. She decided (God knows why) to stay an extra three days last time and would pay them out of pocket (I think that was for some stupid reason that she wanted to be there to attend a Halloween party-that actually had occurred before Halloween).
It was a very brief conversation in which she confirmed that nothing had changed between 5pm yesterday and 6:15am today, that Jane's doctor had done round and told her she was free to leave and Jane immediately took to mean she was going to rehab. She told two nurses and called Ed before the social worker even got in to explain otherwise. I think she got a front row seat to what I'd told her about Jane yesterday!
So, sleep deprived and annoyed, my phone rings as I'm walking GameTeen into school. It's Jane. "I'm not going to rehab. I just wanted to let you know." I ripped her head off, something that should have happened a while ago.
1. You don't call people at 6:15am (I found she called Betsy last week at a time that if your phone rings, your first reaction is 'who died?') I don't care what hours you keep, respect the fact that others might not keep them, so DO NOT call us before 9am.
2. You're not going to rehab because for some reason I am not aware of, you decided to stay there an extra three days last time, and said you'd pay them out of pocket. You haven't, so they're not willing to take you.
3. You didn't stay out of the hospital for 60 days, so Medicare refuses to pay for rehabiitation.
4. I'm done talking to you because I'm bringing my kid into school and I have an interview in a half hour. Once school starts and I have a job, I won't be able to drop everything to bail you out.
Apparently, this didn't go over well with Jane, so she called Betsy and gave her a shopping list. Yes, she expects the family member who lives 40 miles away to do her shopping for her because she is now afraid of me. Much like the time she called Ed to drive 30 miles to go buy her kitty litter because she didn't feel well.
Guess we all need to tell her off more often.
I called her later to find out what was really going on and she told me she told the doctor she can't afford to stay in the hospital and needs to be released. Meanwhile, the social worker has been reluctant to sign off on the discharge because she knows if Jane goes home in this condition, it's likely she'll fall again-or worse.
Tonight, both our ringers are being shut off!