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Monday, November 23, 2015

Challenges and limitations

Thank you for continuing to follow our journey. Since my mother's passing, it has become more important than ever that I continue. Mom and I discussed my blog often and she always encouraged me to share the WHOLE story, but even with her unending support and encouragement, I felt somehow the sharing many things would strip some of the dignity I struggled so hard to help her preserve. I made a promise to my mother that after her journey home to The Lord I would reveal some of the more personal "stuff" about my role as a carer and hers as her need for care increased. As always, I will attempt to be delicate and tasteful, but some of you may find some of the details to be a bit graphic.


Challenges and limitations.



The first week of September, 2013, mom started her third stint in the Sub-Acute Rehab
Unit for the year.  Things started out good and mom was doing “as well as could be expected” with her Physical and Occupational therapies, given the new challenges and limitations she was facing.  Between therapies, when mom was whisked away for audiology testing, I took a break and headed for the cafeteria as I contemplated the many anticipated new challenges and limitations.


The surgeon had shortened moms’ leg by one inch to allow it to “swing through” as she was to be “toe touch” weight bearing (for balance only) until they could do yet another surgery to put her knee back together in a few months.  The hope was this would prevent the rod from pushing through moms’ mushy soft bone again until they could be certain the infection had cleared enough to chance replacing the hardware.  Although her shoulders were bone on bone, mom was able to push through the pain in her upper body by using a platform walker with nearly all of her weight resting on her forearms with each step she took.



I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of a toll this latest setback was going to take on mom.  Nearly every joint in her body, except her hips, were ravaged from RA.  Her joints were already so damaged from her 50 year history with Rheumatoid Disease and the various medications she had taken for it over the years, I wasn’t sure how much more they could stand up to (no pun intended).






More than once I wondered if we had made the wrong choice about not amputating moms’ leg.  It almost seemed like we had sacrificed the rest of moms’ ravaged joints to save the leg.  Of course, that thought made me beat myself up for a while.






I had been so focused on the fact that mom needed her leg, at least enough to balance for transfers, I hadn’t taken in to account she would also need her arms to assist in said transfers.  Now, anyone who knows me knows that I can do a much better job of beating myself up over things I either have no control of whatsoever or things that “might” or “could” happen.  Indeed, my mind quickly shifted to the unanticipated complications.

 
Thoughts of how bad it could get if mom lost the use of her arms were consuming me as I tried to choke down the food I had forced myself to buy in the hospital cafeteria.  I felt tears on my cheeks as my mind processed graphically vivid pictures of mom in various states of decline; visions of a less than desirable quality of life for her, way less.




As it was, mom already needed help with just about everything: she was barely able to lift her arms enough to brush her teeth; washing her face required both hands (one hand to lift the other arm at the elbow enough to reach her face); she was unable to shower or dress herself due to her limited range of motion of her shoulders and the massive amount of hardware in her back; she couldn’t even open a yogurt or cream container due to the pain and deformity of her hands from the RA.  What was going to happen if mom wasn’t ever able to use that leg AND she loses any of the mobility she has somehow been able to maintain?  How could I even plan for that?


The dark thoughts of how bad it could be for mom were replaced by much more selfish thoughts of how bad it might get for me.  What about my challenges and limitations?  I was already the personal shopper; the maid; the cook; the secretary/appointment scheduler; transportation specialist; hair stylist; etc.  How much more was I going to have to do?    How much more was I going to have to endure?  What was going to happen to my life if mom continued to decline?  When was I going to catch a break?  Why was this happening to me?  What did I do to deserve this?


 
Of course, with each thought, I chastised myself sufficiently enough to get a good dose of depression brewing.  Also, with each thought, my sweet mothers’ face flashed through my mind, reminding me that as bad as it was for me, it was much more so for her; reminding me she had made many sacrifices for me over the years; reminding me I already knew the answers to most of my “poor me” questions.

I didn’t do anything to deserve this; It’s all somehow part of God’s plan.  This wasn’t happening to me, it was happening to us.  I was going to have to do however much more my mothers’ declining health warranted.  I would endure however much more was required, for as long as required.  I would catch a break when mom did.  Of course, there was no way I could know (or predict) what was going to happen to my life regardless of how fast mom did, or didn’t, decline.

I just hoped and prayed that, whatever was yet to come, God would give me the strength I needed to get through the dark days ahead.


Trust me.  There are dark days ahead!

Monday, August 17, 2015

Don't look a gift horse in the mouth

Thank you for continuing to follow our journey. Since my mother's passing, it has become more difficult, but more important than ever that I continue. Mom and I discussed my blog often and she always encouraged me to share the WHOLE story, but even with her unending support and encouragement, I felt somehow the sharing many things would strip some of the dignity I struggled so hard to help her preserve. I made a promise to my mother that after her journey home to The Lord I would reveal some of the more personal "stuff" about my role as a carer and hers as her need for care increased. As always, I will attempt to be delicate and tasteful, but some of you may find some posts to contain details that are a bit graphic.



Don't look a gift horse in the mouth


I woke early on Monday, September 2, 2013 in a panic.  It was only 6:15; I hadn’t fallen asleep much before four.  By 8:30 I had showered; packed the suitcases; emptied the refrigerator; and stuffed everything else from the previous couple months in to the boxes I had collected the night before.  As I surveyed the contents of the room, I realized I had packed everything in a daze and had no idea now where anything was.



Everything seemed so surreal and I felt disconnected in a way that I cannot even begin to fully explain.





I made a concerted effort to focus my attention to the issue at hand.  I hadn’t worked out the logistics yet, but what I knew for certain was, if the choice was for mom to return to the SNF or for me to chance taking her home, we were heading for home.



I was lost in thought about how in the world I was going to get everything back home
when mom called, “The doctor was just here and they are scheduling me for an x-ray and a couple other things.  I couldn’t really hear what else he said”.  I wanted to know which doctor ordered the tests; if something more had happened or if the tests were “routine” and/or part of the discharge process.  “What?” “WHAT?” WHAT?!!” moms voice got a little louder and a lot more agitated with each question I asked.  I grabbed my keys and shouted in to the phone “I am on my way” as my mind shifted in to overdrive.


As I drove to the hospital, I wondered about the x-rays and “other things” mom was having done, however my biggest concern at that moment was how markedly and rapidly she was losing her hearing.  I was still trying to pinpoint when I had first notice the change in moms hearing as I pulled in to the parking lot at the hospital; I was feeling very anxious because I honestly could not remember exactly when it started and was becoming almost obsessed with the fact that I couldn’t remember.  Was something wrong with me?  I reminded myself to breathe and tried to push the dark thoughts from my mind.


I was sitting in my mother’s hospital room waiting for her to return, trying to focus on a magazine I had picked up in the lobby, when mom was wheeled back in to the room and helped in to bed.  “What tests did they send you for?” I asked once mom was settled.  The surgeon had ordered several x-rays of her leg and a couple of her chest; someone would be coming soon for another blood culture.

I listened as mom complained about how her eggs were cooked; they had taken her to x-ray before she could even drink her coffee and how loud the nurses on night shift had been.  Mom went on to tell me of the various “rumors” she had heard about this person or that person.  I tried a number of times to interject in to the conversation; apparently mom couldn’t hear me.  “You’re awfully quiet this morning.  Are you OK”, mom looked concerned.  I assured mom (very loudly) that I was “fine” and “just tired”.


Realizing, even if someone had said something to mom about discharge, she very likely hadn’t heard them, I told mom I would be right back and went to find the nurse.  “Hi!  I didn’t see you come in.  She’s looking pretty good, huh?” the friendly voice of a nurse who had cared for mom last time she was here greeted me just as I stepped out of the room.  We chatted for a minute about the horror of this most recent “procedure” and how much mom had been through; she told me the surgeon had been in earlier to see mom and he’s who ordered the x-ray on the leg; she wasn’t sure which doctor ordered the chest x-ray; and of course, the blood cultures, after so many and such serious infections, were just part of life for the foreseeable future.  When I asked the nurse about the plan for discharge, she said, “I haven’t heard anything, but it won’t be today”.  I didn’t know if I should be thankful or alarmed.

As I headed back in to moms room, I was relieved that I had at least a little time to figure out how to transport mom and all our stuff the 250 miles back home, but I couldn’t help but being a little concerned as I wondered what had happened between yesterday and today that would make them change their minds about discharge?

Had the surgeon noticed something unusual with the new hardware?  Could it have something to do with her erratic blood pressure?  The nurse hadn’t indicated that anything was “wrong”, I just couldn’t imagine them keeping her unless there was a reason.  Of course, I could think of a myriad of reasons mom should have continued medical observation and care; unfortunately, the rules of Medicare don’t generally support my way of thinking.

“Am I the only one concerned that she went nearly deaf, seemingly overnight?”, I muttered to myself as I stepped back in to moms’ room with the TV blaring and mom snoring.  Mom didn’t even stir when I clicked the TV off.  I flipped through the magazine for a few minutes and then wrote mom a note, “I went to get something to eat”.  An hour later, when I returned, mom hadn’t moved and was still snoring loudly.  I wrote another note, “I’m going back to the motel to rest.  I’ll be back before dinner”.


I hadn’t been gone from the hospital for more than five minutes and was easing in to traffic on the interstate when my cell phone chimed with the familiar ring I had assigned to my mother.  Knowing it wasn’t safe to answer at that particular moment, I let the call go to voice mail.  I pulled off the interstate at the next exit and in to a parking lot before retrieving the message.

Mom pushed a couple buttons before she started leaving her message, “I don’t know if this is recording or not.  Hello?  Well, I hope you get this message; it looks like I am going to need some clothes when you come back.  No hurry.  Oh, and don’t forget my shoes.”  I quickly pushed redial and listened as moms phone rang and then went to voice mail.  Figuring there was no sense leaving mom a message that she likely wouldn’t be able to hear, I disconnected and pushed redial again; voice mail again; and again.  My anxiety level increased each time there was no answer.  By the time I gave up calling and started driving, I was having a full blown panic attack as I imagined my mother clothed in a hospital gown waiting for me in the parking lot.

I took the side street and drove a block back towards the hospital before reminding
myself that mom had said “No hurry”, she wouldn’t have said that if they had kicked her out, right?  I took my next right and turned back toward the motel.  A few blocks later, I convinced myself that I really should go back and check on mom at the hospital and start the appeal to Medicare if need be; I turned around again.  But, wait.  Mom said she needed clothes; another turn around heading back to the motel.  I really don’t know how many circles I made before somehow I got myself to the motel; gathered clothes for mom; and returned to the hospital after what seemed like hours, but was likely less than thirty minutes after moms call.

Mom didn’t hear me come in; she didn’t hear me say “Hi mom”; she just continued to study the dinner menu with a look of disdain.  I was sure mom had spent enough time in the hospital that she had tried everything on the menu at least once and was likely craving the not so healthy options she had at home.

I startled mom as I entered her field of vision; she shrieked and I jumped.  “You scared me!” mom started laughing.  Soon we were both laughing so hard there were tears streaming down our faces; it really wasn’t that funny, I think we both just needed a good laugh.

“I can’t wait to get out of here” mom started pulling the clothes out of the bag I had set on the bed next to her chair.  I started wondering if mom was planning on making a break for it and I asked her if she knew when she was going to “get out of here”, to which she replied, “No, these are fine, but I told you not to hurry.  Is my pink sweater dirty?”  It was; I assured her I would do laundry as soon as I could.

I made sure mom was looking directly at me when I asked her if someone had told her she was being discharged AFTER they had told me less than two hours before that she would not be released today.

Mom was smiling like the Cheshire cat and I thought for a minute she either had lost her mind, or she still hadn’t heard me, then she said, “Yes, but they still don’t know if it will be yet this afternoon or tomorrow”.  I knew mom was anxious to get out, but I still didn’t think it was safe to make the trip home.  I was afraid of her answer, but I had to know if mom had already signed the discharge paperwork and the “Know Your Right’s” page from Medicare, maybe I still had a chance to do something; my heart sunk when she said she had.  Moms’ smile faded when she saw my reaction; I thought she was going to cry.

“I’m sorry, honey, I thought I was doing the right thing” mom went on to tell me that they couldn’t get the paperwork done for her “transfer” until they were signed and she was afraid if she didn’t sign it, they wouldn’t let her go.  My scalp was tingling and my fingers were going numb; I thought I was going to pass out while I waited for the answer to my next question, “Transfer you WHERE?!”  Please tell me someone didn’t talk my mother in to agreeing to go back to the Skilled Nursing Facility!


 
Mom looked appalled that I even thought she might agree to return to the SNF.  “No, of course not” mom assured me that she was NOT going back there.  A short time later, I followed with a cart of moms things while she was pushed down the hall and admitted to the Sub-Acute Rehab unit AGAIN.  Thank you, Lord!






Although I had my suspicions, I wasn’t sure who exactly had greased those wheels, but momma always said “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth”.

Monday, June 22, 2015

A tribute to Dad, by Rhonda Long

http://www.Homesbythecase.blogspot.com If you're "just tuning in" this post may leave you wondering what the heck I am rambling about, I hope you take the time to go back and review my earlier posts so you can catch up with our story. I very much appreciate your thoughts and comments For anyone who has been along for the whole wild ride - Thank you!


Although I am still struggling with the words to continue the story of our journey (which I WILL do), I would like to share the words of another caregiver with you.  The following tribute was read at the funeral services of her dear father. Thank you, Rhonda Long for sharing such a heartfelt and loving tribute with us.




Sunday, May 24, 2015

Memories

Some events are hard to put in to words and some posts are very difficult for me to relive as I tell our story.  Please be patient as I struggle to spare you some of the grizzly details and my very raw emotions.

For those of you just tuning in and wondering what I am rambling about, I hope you will read my earlier posts and catch up with our story......sometimes truth really is stranger than fiction!
For those of you who have been along for the whole wild ride, thanks for hanging with me!
I would very much appreciate your thoughts and comments.....it helps to know someone is out there!


For those of you who have been following our story, rest assured, in due time I will continue.  Right now there are a lot of things to take think about and take care of, but I wanted to share the link to my mother's online guest/memory book. Some of you knew mom personally and some of you have come to know her through this blog; I invite you all to copy/paste to follow this link and share your favorite memories of mom.  This link will be active until about June 10th, at which time I will print them to keep in our memory box.

http://www.legacy.com/guestbooks/gjsentinel/mary-adams-condolences/174848486?&page=2#sthash.rfUpUIo3.dpbs










Thank you and I will return soon!





Friday, May 15, 2015

Knowing and Believing......

Some events are hard to put in to words and some posts are very difficult for me to relive as I tell our story.  Please be patient as I struggle to spare you some of the grizzly details and my very raw emotions.

For those of you just tuning in and wondering what I am rambling about, I hope you will read my earlier posts and catch up with our story......sometimes truth really is stranger than fiction!
For those of you who have been along for the whole wild ride, thanks for hanging with me!
I would very much appreciate your thoughts and comments.....it helps to know someone is out there!


Knowing and Believing......


It’s time to walk with the angels, mamma, as they gently take your hand; Follow them to Jesus and that glorious promise land.

I know you’re in a better place, I believe it’s really true. Knowing and believing doesn't make it hurt any less; it doesn't stop the tears from flowing or the feeling of emptiness.

I hope tomorrows easier, I’ll take it day by day; I know that God will guide me; He will help me find my way.

I’m sorry I wasn't there, mamma, when the angels came around; God had other plans and He sent me home to rest.

Today my heart is heavy, but I’m shaking off the guilt.  The memories get sweeter with each and every passing day; I look to heaven often and know that I was blessed.

I tell myself it was meant to be; God planned it long ago.  Maybe it’s easier this way; I guess I’ll never know.

Although I imagined things ending differently, I cannot second guess The Lord; I guess He knew how hard it was for me to let you go.


I know that heaven got a little brighter, as you danced your way right in; I believe you’re in a better place that’s free from hate and sin.


Knowing and believing will someday ease the pain.

As you walk with the angels, mamma, free from all the pain, I pray that you’ll watch over me and help me keep the faith.  I hope and pray I earn my wings and someday we meet again.


RIP
Mary L. Adams (Mom)
June 13, 1936 - May 9, 2015

http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/gjsentinel/obituary.aspx?n=mary-adams&pid=174848486&fhid=20357


Sunday, May 10, 2015

Happy Mother's Day

Some events are hard to put in to words and some posts are very difficult for me to relive as I tell our story.  Please be patient as I struggle to spare you some of the grizzly details and my very raw emotions.

For those of you just tuning in and wondering what I am rambling about, I hope you will read my earlier posts and catch up with our story......sometimes truth really is stranger than fiction!
For those of you who have been along for the whole wild ride, thanks for hanging with me!
I would very much appreciate your thoughts and comments.....it helps to know someone is out there!


Mary L. Adams
June 13, 1936 - May 9, 2015
I love you momma!
RIP

Soon I will continue our story;
Share more of my fears.
I’ll cover the triumphs;
and visit times we said "cheers"!
But, for today, I have little to say
Except Happy Mother’s Day!

Sunday, April 26, 2015

Epic Fail!

Some events are hard to put in to words and some posts are very difficult for me to relive as I tell our story.  Please be patient as I struggle to spare you some of the grizzly details and my very raw emotions.

For those of you just tuning in and wondering what I am rambling about, I hope you will read my earlier posts and catch up with our story......sometimes truth really is stranger than fiction!
For those of you who have been along for the whole wild ride, thanks for hanging with me!
I would very much appreciate your thoughts and comments.....it helps to know someone is out there!



2013

EPIC FAIL!



It had been just over a day and a half since mom had undergone a major surgery inserting a longer, stronger rod in to her leg after the previous one had broke through her femur during her stay at a Skilled Nursing Facility for rehab – talk about an epic fail!





“How is she doing this morning”? I smiled at the nurse who had just stepped out of moms’ room as I approached.  Although I wasn't particularly surprised by the nurses response, I was a little panicked and completely unprepared.



The panic stemmed from realizing how little control I had over the current situation.  As a dedicated Control Enthusiast, being out of control turns me into a full fledged control freak!  My mind shifts in to overdrive and conjures up every “what if” scenario that “might” ever come up, along with every possible solution; my anxiety level sky rockets and I literally have to remind myself to breathe; my face feels hot as my blood pressure rises and sometimes I swear there is a whole band pounding in my chest.  Being unprepared only magnified my current state of panic.



My lack of preparation was not due to lack of trying, it was more due to lack of time and resources…..oh, and all those pesky emotions that get in the way of any form of clear thinking.





Honestly, I had attempted to prepare since the moment I knew mom was going to have yet another surgery.  I had attempted to prepare for it prior to each of the previous surgeries/procedures/tests/hospitalizations over the past nearly year and a half; 542 days to be exact.  Again, epic fail!


It turns out the world of Senior Healthcare and Medicare is kind of like a horrible rendition of Ground Hog Day, you have to relive the horror and the panic again and again and again.



I don’t know why I had let myself hope that this time would be different; maybe this time mom would be kept in the hospital at least as long as the surgeon had indicated she should be; maybe this time I would have more than a few hours to make a decision; maybe this time the powers that be would act in favor of the patients well being, rather than their “bottom line”.






At least I had only hoped it and not actually believed it; I knew it would be the same this time as it had been all the other times.  I knew the nightmare was getting ready to start again.





The nurse didn't really tell me how mom was, only that she would “probably be discharged sometime late afternoon”, they would “call for transport” back to the SNF as soon as the orders were signed.  WAIT!  WHAT? HUH?!!



“She’s NOT going back THERE!” I felt the tears stinging my eyes.  My voice squeaked through the lump in my throat, “They can’t discharge her this afternoon”.  I found myself pleading with this nurse to do something and demanding the surgeon be notified; obviously I wasn't the first person who had ever been mortified and overwhelmed with the healthcare system.  I probably wasn't even the only person who had ever voiced my frustrations vehemently to a nurse.




I know nurses are the “front line”, so to speak, and it really isn't the nurses’ call, she’s just the messenger.  In the heat of things, with emotions running high, it’s really hard to remember not to stone the messenger.




I also now know that a patient’s discharge date (due to the payment structure of Medicare) has much less to do with how the patient is really doing than with whatever condition/diagnosis the patient was admitted for in the first place.  The longer she stays, the less money they make; the sooner they get mom out, the more money they make.  In my mind, this puts a whole new spin on "survival of the fittest".


The facility will receive lump sum payment based solely on the “normal length of stay” for the procedure/diagnosis, without taking into account any extenuating circumstances or mitigating factors.  This means none of moms other afflictions are taken in to consideration when determining the length of stay she is entitled to or “should need”.  According to the payment structure, mom should need no more time to recuperate at 77 with a number of other severe health issues than a 40 year old, otherwise healthy person, would need for the same procedure.


I knew mom was not ready for discharge; she needed better care than would be provided in a SNF (as had clearly been demonstrated) and certainly more care than I could possibly provide for her in a hotel room for the night.  The 5+ hour drive home alone, with mom still requiring a 2 person assist to transfer, was way too risky in her current condition even if we started at noon; “late afternoon” was out of the question.




Before I caused too much of a scene, and before I went in to see mom, I returned to my car to just sit and think for a few minutes. OK, what I really did was roll up my car windows and scream; cry; beat on my steering wheel.  Although she had been a little crass, the nurse was right, I needed to calm down.  I had to figure something out.  I had to buy some time.



Deciding my only recourse was to file a Medicare appeal as soon as they tried to discharge mom, which would likely only buy us a day or two, I dried my eyes and headed back to moms’ room.  The appeal would at least give me time to pay a surprise visit to some of the other SNF’s in the area and at least try to make a good decision.

http://www.medicare.gov/claims-and-appeals/right-to-fast-appeal/hospital/fast-appeals-in-hospitals.html

I took a deep breath as I stepped off the elevator and reminded myself to stay calm.  I was feeling pretty confident that I could now talk to mom without crying.  At least I had a short term plan; true, I didn't know exactly how to implement it, but I knew an appeal could be filed which would make them keep her while it was in review.  I detoured by the bathroom on my way and as I exited, I heard a friendly, familiar voice, “What are you doing here?”  The look on her face said “I hope nothing more has happened to mom”.


I tried not to cry as I explained to this nurse, who had become a friend during moms previous stays, how the rod had broke through the femur while she was in rehab at the SNF.  Remember, I said “I tried” not to cry - another epic fail.  I was sobbing as I told the nurse what had happened and what was going on now.  The nurse hugged me tight and asked, “Why can’t she come over 
here?”, referring to the sub-acute rehab unit.





I sobbed even harder when I told her that’s what I had hoped, but was told by a nurse the night before that there was no availability.  “Well, we don’t have anything today, but we will in a day or two” the confirmation there wasn't anything available “today” didn't console me.  “But they are planning on discharging her today” I wailed.



Once again, I returned to my car to try to get hold of myself before seeing mom.  It was 11:00AM and I knew she was going to be wondering where I was, but I really didn't want mom to see me this upset.  Moms’ blood pressure was pretty sensitive to any problems with any of us kids, the last thing I wanted to do was cause her any more stress.  





My phone rang with the familiar ring I have assigned to my mother just as I got in my car.  “Hi mom, I’m on my way” I tried to sound upbeat as I answered, “I’ll be there in a few minutes”.  I suggested mom order her lunch and I would be there in time to help her so she didn't have to wait for someone to open the containers.  I sat there for a few more minutes just thinking.




I had jumped to a lot of conclusions before I had even gone on in to see her; mom sounded pretty good, maybe she was ready to be discharged.    Maybe I've suffered all this angst for nothing.  Maybe I should try to think a little more positively.  “I’ll just tell mom I didn't sleep well” I thought to myself as I looked at my puffy eyes in the mirror and headed back in again.



“Hi”, I smiled as brightly as I could at my mom, “I hear they might spring you today”.  The slight smile she offered as I entered, quickly faded.  “When?”, mom wanted to know.  I told her it sounded like possibly that afternoon and I watched the same emotions cross my mother’s face as I had felt upon hearing of the pending discharge, she also knew it was too soon for her to go home.  “Will I have to go back?” mom asked, referring to the SNF where her leg had been broke.  "Not if I can help it" I assured her I would figure something out.



Feeling I had armed mom with enough information about the plan to file an appeal
that she would not sign anything regarding discharge until I returned, I left the hospital in search of some place mom would be safe and well cared for until it was safe to make the trip home.  I was praying such a place existed.




Does such a place exist?  All my research; surprise visits; and moms' recent debacles at two different "top rated" facilities indicates to me that such a place does not exist.  In my opinion, the options available for senior rehabilitation and the rules & regulations (or lack thereof) that govern Senior Health Facilities are absolutely EPIC FAILS, as was my attempt to find adequate placement for mom.




Feeling completely defeated, utterly exhausted, and very emotional, I sat in my car in the parking lot of the fourth facility I had visited that afternoon crying and wondering what to do next.  I toyed with the idea of finding out exactly what they would do about moms' discharge if I simply didn't show up to pick her up, but quickly dismissed the idea because I wasn't sure I wanted to find out.  The outcome could be a serious epic fail!

Knowing the appeal was going to be my only option, I returned to the hospital and sat with mom as we waited for the nurse to arrive with moms' discharge papers.........we waited and waited and waited some more.


It was nearly 6:00PM when the nurse I had encountered earlier came in with moms' meds.  I had dug the paperwork out that instructed me on how to file the appeal on early discharge and was ready to pounce when the nurse, very sweetly, asked mom, "Do you need help ordering dinner tonight?" and then to me, "Or, will you be here to help her?"  I assured the nurse I would be there as I shoved the papers back in my pocket; no sense reminding her that mom was to be discharged, right?

By 8:00PM, I decided it was late enough that a discharge was unlikely that late. Feeling it was safe to leave mom for the night, I returned to my hotel.  I figured I better try to get some rest so I would be ready for battle in the morning; the reprieve was bound to be short lived, wouldn't you think?