Life sucks, and other deep thoughts...

You kow, both my parents are still alive, and married to each other. They are 90 and 91 years old. Dad has exceeded his expiration date, and, after a hospitalization for an inflamed pancreas, courtesy of his many, many medications, Mom threw him into a nursing home. They threw him out, ferried him back to the hospital, after chasing him up and down the halls and wrestling with him. Seems they could not medicate him there. The hospital could only keep him for observation and were pressuring Mom to get him the hell out of there, too. So. Mom called me. This in itself is a monumental moment in the cowwoman's tiny life. Mom did not feel it necessary to call when Dad was hospitalized. However, cowwoman is a good daughter, after all. She called the Elderlink folks, got lots of great ideas. Off to my hometown to consult with the doctor, who said best that he come home. Mom was not having any of that. No way. Well, I suppose she felt after 69 years, she had paid all the dues. Now it was time for some relief. Next, I called the first number on the resource list given to my mother by the hospital's social worker, a facility counselor, and we got an interview with a residence here in my town. Just a stone's throw away, actually. Very nicely appointed, social model dealing with dementia. Perfect. Expensive, but, hey, they have it. Next morning, we met at the hospital with their nurse to get Dad evaluated, and, joy of joys, he qualified. Still needed the physician's statement. And, what a guy, he called us to tell us he had filled out the discharge papers. And I said we can't move him till YOU get your act together. I found out how assertiveness training really benefits, let me tell you. After a lot of logistical maneuverings, a mountain of paperwork, he was delivered to the new facility that evening. Yay. Except, now, he is back in the hospital with a kidney infection, from the catheter they put in him during his last stay. Honestly, what a nightmare. And what a learning experience. I found I really liked telling my mother what to do. And she was happy to have someone to do that, I think. Really, there is something to be said for dying young. Oh, did I mention that between the first nursing home and the hospital, his meds got lost? And his clothes were not sent with him, either? And, owing to the fact that we thought we were transporting him, he had no clothes at the hospital and had to come to his new home in his hospital gown? Nightmare, folks.