Monthly Archives: November 2015
If MS wasn’t enough…
Now, according to the last doctor who called me, we are dealing with Sundown syndrome.
Sundown syndrome is a term that describes the onset of confusion and agitation that generally affects people with dementia or cognitive impairment and usually strikes around sunset.
Where the hell is my lottery win so I can make sure he gets the care he needs that I am not capable of giving him?
He looked so much better when we saw him and then I find out that later that evening, he exhibited these symptoms.
I need a padded cell.
Lucy and Gavin miss their Daddy.
WTF again, do they have the slightest idea of what they’re doing?
So Good Shepherd rehab phoned me and a nice lady was telling me all about how they are going to work with The Curmudgeon if things go through. Sounded good and she promised to call me back and let me know…I never did hear back from her.
Fifteen minutes later some other place called (the woman slurred the name so badly I couldn’t understand it and she wouldn’t repeat it) I stopped her two minutes into her spiel.
“Um, Good Shepherd just called me. Have you actually talked to my husband’s case worker or anyone?”
“Well not actually.”
“Not actually? Really?
Tell you what, you call his case worker at St. Luke’s and between you, the case worker, his doctors, Good Shepherd, and all the rest of you money-grubbing vultures maybe y’all can actually talk to my husband and make some sort of arrangement. Then one of you call me when y’all have all your little yellow duckies in a row. How about y’all do that?”
Yeah, that southern influence sort of comes out of me when someone pisses me off by assuming I know what the fuck is going on with this shit.
OMG what a cluster fuck this is. I didn’t dare drive out there for fear they’d transfer him somewhere while I was en-route. It would be just like them to do that.
Yeah, the medical profession cares about you…
Not really. They only care about money.
The Curmudgeon looked better when we saw him yesterday.
The Doctor wants to release him to a rehab but none of the rehab facilities want to take them, they say he is “too high functioning” to stay there before coming home.
I’m sorry, but he’s too compromised for me to be able to take care of him here, we have steep stairs and I cannot lift him.
He still needs help with his food and he is NOT mobile. Yet, he’s “too high functioning” for them.
He cannot take a shower by himself as he could before. And I don’t believe they are sure he’s not still having seizures. And yet, he’s “too high functioning”
They think he can come home without going to a rehab first where he can be more closely watched than at home.
I do have to sleep sometime. I am not medically trained nor am I capable of lifting him. So how can him coming home before he is capable of doing more for himself be good for him?
I hate the bigwig medical professionals, conglomerates, and insurance companies. Their constant pursuit of the almighty buck and the lack of compassion truly makes me ill.
I have no idea what is going to happen to us today or tomorrow. This truly sucks.
Too long of a day
The dogs had me up early in the morning.
Then I had a morning appointment with my cardiologist–he never has afternoon hours in Allentown. Therefore, I didn’t get a call in to the plumber until after I got home.
I didn’t dare call earlier because I figured they’d show up when I had to leave for the doctor’s office. As it was, the plumber was here two hours after I called. Three hours and $276.00 later, my plumbing problem had gone away.
Phew! I thought, with our luck, I’d have a plumbing bill in the thousands.
Going to try for a run out to the hospital to see The Curmudgeon today, barring any unforeseen circumstances.
AAAAAND the other shoe drops…
Here I thought I might actually get a few things done yesterday, like the wash. I’d told The Curmudgeon I wouldn’t be in to see him because I had a dentist appointment that I’d postponed when he was in the hospital for his pneumonia. He seemed fine with that…the nurses not so much.
Excuse me? I cannot cancel and reschedule that appointment again. And I won’t be there today too because I have my cardiologist appointment–reschedule that one? Yeah sure. If I want to wait six months. I don’t think so.
I thought I might get some overdue chores done yesterday too. Went to put some laundry in the washer and found some smelly water in it. So, I ran it with washer cleaner…OMG!!!
Water in the basement and the drain from the washer shooting water several feet into the air…yep, we have a plumbing problem to top everything off.
I called one plumber and he didn’t get back to me until after 5 p.m. He can’t do the job–doesn’t have a large enough snake and no camera to send down the drain…
Too late to catch another plumber without paying through the nose…will call early in the morning…will also have to have G house sit for me while I go to my appointment.
I seriously feel the desire to pack up my vehicle and disappear with the dogs. I hate this house, I’ve hated this damned house for 43 years.
I wish the phone would stop ringing every five minutes
With The Curmudgeon in the hospital I am having a mini-nervous breakdown from the constant phone calls. And the stupid hacker phoned again, did he ever get an earful!
Need I remind any of my dear readers that I am NOT a morning person?
I am dead set against politicians phoning anyone in the days before an election. I swear we’ve had a call every five minutes since eight in the morning when they woke my ass up. That person got a loud ear full of all the swears.
I am not a nice person when I don’t get enough sleep and y’all have only yourselves to blame if I cuss at you.
Honey, if they (the people) haven’t made up their fucking minds by now they never will. So leave me the fuck alone and let me catch my breath.
So yeah, I am not a nice person to those who make political calls or call to harass us. I vote in all the elections. I was judge of elections for quite a while. I do not need the new kiddies on the block reminding me of what I already know and have done since I was 18. A long time ago.
I jump and my heart pounds at the phone ringing because The Curmudgeon is in the hospital and they have yet to figure out WTF is going on with him. They “THINK” he “MIGHT” be having night-time seizures but they aren’t positive.
I think I MIGHT want to slap them upside the head with a baseball bat but I’m not positive I will.
What do I want? I want a silent phone, some straight answers, the hacker’s dick to fall off, and a bit of what I can find of my sanity.
Not feeling very social
So tired, so stressed out, so lost. I am not feeling very social. G knows me well enough to not allow me to fold into myself.
The drive over to the hospital where they have The Curmudgeon now sucks big time. I’m so stressed that I have to impose on G to go along and be my navigator because I can’t remember from one minute to the next, how the fuck to get there.
He is very pissed at me for letting them take him there. But they don’t have the EEG monitoring available at the Allentown hospital. So far I am not unhappy with the nurses I’ve met on the 7th floor. Give it time, if they screw around with me or him, I will go ballistic. At least he’s not back on the 8th floor where he was not treated well.
I have many appointments over the next couple of weeks for me in various places at various times. I am NOT going to be able to drive over there every day.
Thank goodness for his speech therapist, I called her to tell him he is in the hospital because she has an appointment with him here Tuesday. She’s calling all the other home care people to let them know so I don’t have to. I really like this gal.
I hate that the phone won’t stop ringing–all the fucking political calls. Every time it rings I go through the roof.
Had to call for an ambulance again
Couldn’t understand why The Curmudgeon wasn’t downstairs when I noticed that the clock said twelve noon. I went to check on him and he did not wake completely or easily. He spoke gibberish and was acting strange.
The only coherent thing he said was “NO” when I told him I called for an ambulance. Tough shit dear, you are scaring the crap out of me, of course I’m calling them. You need professional care and I am not a professional.
He’s been transferred to St. Luke’s in Bethlehem so they can monitor him with EEG set up.
I am exhausted. Scared to death too because they asked me about intubating him and I had to follow his wishes and say no intubation and that he is a DNR.
Doggonedmysteries 