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Saturday, 1 June 2013 19:59
[personal profile] prog
There's no other way to put it: Mother is actively sabotaging all my attempts to help her. After two days of effort I got her checked back into Sunbury with an Ambien prescription that would get her through her nighttime confusion, glued to my phone as I coordinated nurse, doctor, brother, caretaker and building manager to set everything up. Total victory, right? End of story?

No! Because she refuses to take the pill! And of course she scared another resident at 3 AM last night by pounding on his apartment door while sundowning and out of her mind, the sort of thing she will keep doing every night until they finally toss her out.

I call her up to tell her I hear that she's been having trouble at night lately. Those people are trying to set me up! she says. I tell that her some guy said she wandered into his room. No, she insists, it was he who wandered into her room, and he turned the story around and got the whole building to believe him, and I guess I believe him too and not my own mother. Don't I know that she just lost her husband? How dare I. Forget it, she says, she's done with this place. She's going back home.

Enough. I am not pursuing this path any further. Barring a miracle, mom's not going to live an Sunbury past this month. That's four large down the crapper but whatever; call it money spent on learning just how messed up she is. (Plus the hospital bills, which are of an as-yet unrevealed amount.)

I need to move her into a more secure assisted-living center. There's one next door, and for five thousand more bucks we can gamble with that for a month. That is looking like the most attractive option right now, even though it means accepting a loan (and one that has already been offered) to accomplish.

I'm going to have to get a full-time job to help pay for this; this is beyond what freelancing can pay for, at least until I get other financial helpers set up. I will, for example, sell their house, but that isn't going to happen overnight. But nothing can get done while mom's still in flux, and that includes me working on anything. I could not even start a job so long as I'm still getting woken up daily by we-had-another-incident-with-your-mother calls, each one requiring a full day on the phone dealing with fallout.

I'm in Austin now for a Perl conference, allegedly. Christ.
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