I just had to share this bit of cuteness, first.

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Fluffer peeking through the bathroom window while enjoying any warmth coming through the screen.

In other things…

I called up my mother this evening. It ended up being a very challenging conversation. When I asked how she was doing, she switched to Polish and starting talking about the “Indianka” (Indian person) and her bed. At first I thought she was complaining about one of the staff somehow mistreating my mother while changing her bedding. She kept using Polish words I was unfamiliar with. I did figure out that the person she was talking about was in the room with her – and it was strange that staff would be fussing with her bed past 7:30pm.

After asking questions about just what the problem was, I eventually figured out that she was talking about her room mate. It seems this woman has been telling my mother to go away, and that my mother’s bed is her bed. There seems to be more as well, but my mother was having difficulty explaining to me. Once I figured it out, I said that this is something we need to talk to the nursing staff about. My mother said she’s already talked to them and they say there’s nothing they can do.

This is obviously an issue of someone with dementia. My mother has increased cognitive decline, but nothing like this. She said she told the nursing staff the people like her room mate should share a room with other people like her, while people like my mother should be sharing a room with someone more like her – this is in reference to levels of dementia. The problem with that is, there might not actually be someone there at her cognitive level. At least not another woman that she could share a room with.

Earlier in the conversation, while she was still speaking in English, my mother asked me if I knew about someone that had passed away recently. This person was part of a family that are “neighbours” out here, but I only know two of them – one of them was my elementary school teacher until 3rd grade, in the one classroom school our little hamlet used to have. Grades K-3 were all in that one classroom. It turned out that the person who passed was their mother. After getting a bit of a lecture about how I don’t know what’s going on, I pointed out to my mother that I’ve been stuck at home because the truck is in the shop; if I’m going to hear anything, it’ll only be if someone I know posts it on Facebook.

The truck reminded her to ask me when I’d be visiting her next. I explained to her the current timeline, and that it should be done on Monday. So am I visiting her on Monday? I said no, that’s when the truck is supposed to be done. I still don’t know how I’m going to get it. If anything, I’d be visiting on Tuesday.

When the conversation shifted to Polish and I managed to figure out she was trying to explain to me about her room mate, who was in the room with her while she was talking to me, she started talking about getting into the nursing home. It turns out the neighbour who passed away was in the nursing home she wants to go to. Which means a bed is now open.

…

We have explained to her that priority goes to people who are in the worst shape, but this was not the time to bring it up again.

As she continued to speak in Polish, she starting saying that my brother and I should go to the nursing home and explain my mother’s situation to them, and tell them she will pay them lots of money, every month, if they would just let her in.

So… she wants to bribe the nursing home staff.

I tried to explain to her again, that the nursing home staff have no control over it. It’s up to the government. The health department makes those decisions, not the nursing home.

I don’t know if she can’t understand this, or won’t. She is convinced that if we just ask and offer them money (she would be paying “rent” anyhow, so I don’t know what she’s thinking on that), they will let her live there.

I told her my brother had already contacted them and they confirmed this, but she kept on as if I never said a thing.

In other things, she mentioned my sister had visited. I told her I knew, and that she’s brought my mother the pickle juice she was craving. My mother was so happy about that. I think she just drinks a spoonful every now and then, but I honestly am not sure! I asked her how the food was, and she told me it wasn’t as good as at the hospital. Not bad, but not good, either. 😞

She went back to talking in Polish and saying she wanted to be out of there. Then began lamenting about how, in her old age, she now has no home of her own, no bed of her own. I told her, it won’t be any different in a nursing home, other than she’d have a room to herself. Oh, but at least she would be among her own people! She would be around Christians.

…

She still thinks the nursing home is run by the same people who ran it when she applied for a job there, 50 or so years ago.

Then she started telling me how she is afraid to sleep at night because of her room mate, and she doesn’t know what she might do. I don’t know what to make of that. One the one hand, if her room mate’s dementia is far gone enough, that could be a real risk. On the other, at one point of trying to figure out what the problem was, and my mother not being able to answer me (I still thought she was talking about a staff member at this point), I asked outright, is it because she is Indian? My mother answered, yes. So she might be fearing this woman because of her race. Or, more likely, it’s a combination of both.

Either way, my mother is not in a good situation, and there’s really nothing we can do about it. She’s in the system, and the system decides. My mother, however, insists that if we just talk to the right people, explaining her situation, and are bold about it, that system will be ignored and she would get to jump the que to get to the nursing home she wants to be in.

I’m really not impressed with this transitional care unit. I don’t have concerns with the staff or the measures they have to take. It really has more to do with the fact that they’ve got so many people in various states of cognitive decline, waiting to get into someplace else, in such a tight space and sharing rooms. This building is a converted hospital, but the TCU is only a small part of it. Too small.

I completely understand my mother’s feeling about wanting to get out, that’s for sure. Hopefully, she will get into a nursing home – even if it’s not the one she wants to be in, right away – soon.

Thankfully, my brother and SIL are back and they will be able to visit with her tomorrow. She will be very happy to see them. I suggested they might see about finding a private space they can wheel her to for the visit. There must be a common room or family room available. Somewhere that she can speak freely with them. I’ve already updated them on what my mother told me. Hopefully, they will be able to get more information from her, and will be able to talk to someone about it.

I honestly don’t know what we can do to make things better for her. She simply isn’t far gone enough for the system go consider her a priority when beds open up.

Plus, the system sucks at the best of times.

So very frustrating.

The Re-Farmer