Dealing With the Crazy: At Least Life's Not Boring

Waiting for her walk
Life has been a challenge the past couple of weeks. The Jerry Springeresque aura surrounding me is starting to wear me down. I'm about ready to fire up the RV and head for the hills.

But we all know that's not going to happen.

It looks like Ma might be going to some sort of long term facility in the coming weeks. It's no secret that she's needed some kind of care, other than what I can physically or emotionally provide, for a long while. Lord know's I've tried to get her there. I've hauled her to the ER after an evening of her sitting at the kitchen table, talking to her imaginary friends only to be told that she was competent and could make her own decisions. I've tried to get her to a psychiatrist, taking off work (and ya'll know what a kind, empathetic soul Bossholio possesses.. oh wait.. that's IF HE HAD A SOUL,) and rushing around which resulted in her tossing herself on the bed in a fit of weakness, telling me there was no way she could "make it." This after she ran up and down the hall accusing me and T.A. of selling babies all morning.

So what changed?

I came home from work for lunch last Wednesday to find pack of peed-a-little pads lying in front of the RV, on the opposite end of the yard from the trailer. When I pulled up in the driveway, I saw the screen door standing open, Ma's walker tossed aside and Ma's two little sneaker clad feet wiggling in the doorway. Once I determined that she wasn't badly injured.. or dead.. I got kinda tickled.

Judge me if you want. It sorta was a funny sight.

Apparently, she had taken off with her walker, made the long hike across the front yard to the RV and back again (still not sure why she was taking her peed-a-little pads with her) then fell face first in to the doorway when she tried to get back in the house.

Don't worry, other than a booboo on her head, she was fine. I had to call the ambulance to come help me get her out of the floor and to make sure she wasn't hurt. Of course, because I'm me and this is how my life goes, it was Bubbles' Bubbahubby who showed up. We got Ma up and in the nasty, cobweb covered wheelchair that's been out on the front porch for about a year. She told the paramedics all kinds of wild stories. Once it was determined that she was physically fine, they handed me a pamphlet on a new program in the county that sends a nurse out to assess fall risk for elderly people.

I was all for it.

The nurse came out the other day and quickly determined that Ma needed to be somewhere else. The house was a disaster area, which normally embarrasses me to the point of meeting any visitors out on the front porch, but I was so beyond caring about anything but getting Ma somewhere that I welcomed the nurse in with open arms.

I'm not sure what happens next. I was told a social worker would be coming out to assess Ma and hopefully  that will start the wheels turning to get her the help she needs.

This leads to my next problem. I may sound a bit selfish, but it's reality. When Ma goes into long term care, her monthly disability check will go with her. That is a big ol' honkin' chunk of bill money we won't have anymore, which is fine, and we'll adjust, but it will be a challenge.

So stay tuned for more yawn inducing money saving schemes!

In other news, I want to thank all ya'll for the out pouring of love and support after my last post. It's a story I've wanted to share for a long time, but hesitated for various reasons. When I received the letter from Tennessee, it just seemed like the right time to, as the legendary Paul Harvey used to say, tell "the rest of the story."

Oh and by the way, the same day I had to deal with the county nurse, I got the contact forms from Tennessee. It was an emotional day.

I promise to get off the Springermobile soon and back to less depressing mayhem.

For now, ya'll have a rockin' Humpday. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

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