The Temperature's Rising, And I Ain't Talkin' 'Bout the Weather

So yesterday afternoon, around 2-ish I get a call from someone at the office that provides Ma with her mental health services. I'd been trying to get in touch with the doctor since Friday to get a prescription refilled and had finally called Ma's "team leader" yesterday morning.

So I get this phone call.

"We need to get your mom in here to see the doctor tomorrow morning at 11:30."

Sounds simple enough, right? Except that I have a job where they'd like a little notice if I'm going to be off. And "here" is about an hour away. And Ma needed a bath.

"Are ya'll gonna come get her?" I asked. After all, her "team leader" promised me from the beginning that they would come get her and take her to her appointments, even have the doctor come to the house if need be.

"Oh, it would be a lot easier if you could just catch a ride."

*cough*

I'm sorry. Catch? A ride? Did she really say that? What did she want me to do? Push Ma's wheelchair out in the middle of the highway and tell her to stick her thumb out? WHAT THE EFF?

"She can't get in and out of my vehicle."

"Well, just make sure she's ready between 10 and 10:30," she said.

So last night I told Ma about it and sent her into a full fledged anxiety fit. She worried she'd fall. She didn't know who was going to show up. We'd already spent my whole lunch hour (and then some) entertaining a lady from the state who came to do a level two somechit kinda evaluation.

"If you don't want to go, just tell me. I'll call them in the morning and cancel."

"I don't want to go," she answered.

The nurse called me this morning to ask how mobile she was and if she was going to be able to get around with her walker.

"She'd like to reschedule for a later date," I explained. "She can't walk at all and she already had to be evaluated yesterday, she's a little overwhelmed."

"Well," came her snotty 'tude, "it might be another 2 or 3 weeks before we can get her in."

I felt the Ghetto Hillbilly rise up inside me. I've fought to keep it beaten down through all of this, but I've just about had it. A bitch was about to flip the eff out.

"WELL, I have a job where I'm expected to show up for 8 hours every day. I got a phone call late yesterday, telling me she needed to be all the way the eff out yonder by 11am tomorrow. I can't just up and leave on ya'lls whim. And? We didn't call asking for an appointment, so I don't really care when you can get her in. In the future, if she needs to be seen by your office before a prescription can be refilled, you probably shouldn't wait until a week after she runs out to think, GEE WHIZ! WE NEED TO SEE THIS LADY! And? She'd like time to take a bath and make arrangements for transportation. SHE CAN'T WALK. It's not like she can just jump in the effin shower and head out."

Her entire demeanor changed. "I understand," she said. Which I knew was code for, "OH MY GAWD THIS BITCH HAS THE CRAZY.. GET HER OFF THE PHONE."

I'm so tired of these people jerking us around. It's fixin' to get hot all up in this holler.

Later Taters!


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