Three days

I didn’t talk to or see Mom on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday of this week after taking her to the doc on Monday. That is possibly the longest I have gone without talking to her since her diagnosis. So I called mid-morning. She seemed a little fuzzy, but OK. She said she wasn’t sleeping. She tried to talk about a few things, but really just talked nonsense. She said there was a pile of … and then didn’t finish the sentence. This worried me a little, though it being Friday, I suspected she had some folded clothes on her bed since laundry day is Thursday. She also said, “What are you going to tell me?” She assumed I had news to report. She started reading to me from a piece of mail she had probably received months ago. I don’t know what it was. At the end of the conversation, she said, “Do what you can and can what you want.” Which I found quite amusing.

I decided to pop in for a quick visit before lunch. Mom was just coming out of her apartment to go to the dining room, but came back in with me to the apartment. Things looked pretty good. No ants. The litter box wasn’t too full, but I decided to empty it and refill it with completely new litter just to make any possible smell improvement that I could. The place wasn’t terribly malodorous, but just had a hint of a pee smell. I found six pairs of used disposable underwear between Mom’s bed and the wall. I need to push her mattress closer to the wall so she doesn’t see that as a place to deposit trash. She also had a lot of stray socks tucked against the wall, which I put in a drawer. I threw a few clearly dirty clothes into her basket, as well as a towel that had some brown smudges on it that was lying on the floor of her bedroom. That struck me as unfortunate, whatever it might have been. And I hung up one pair of pants. Mom had a completely different outfit on from the last time I saw her, so that was a good sign. But she had the same socks on that she was wearing Monday. I imagine her feet don’t smell so good.

I asked her what was going on and she said, “You came for a visit. That’s what’s going on.” I wonder if she is feeling a little bored these days. She doesn’t seem as compelled to visit with the goose outside the facility. Once again, a Canada goose is nesting in a patch of grass in the parking lot. Last year, Mom was obsessed with what she called “the creature.” This year, not so much.

I gave the nurse orders from the neurologist to wean Mom off of an antipsychotic drug and see how she does with that. I don’t think anybody knows for sure what to expect, but I hope it might clear Mom’s head just a little bit. It will be interesting to see if it reduces her confusion. Meanwhile, I am also trading e-mails and voice mails with the facility administrator about Medicaid. It’s time to apply, and he has some contact info for me. Presumably we’ll catch up with each other next week. I guess I can’t put this off any longer.

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