Before I get into the frustrating stuff, I will start with the cuteness.

All of them, fluffy.

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That first picture, we actually named her Fluffy. We got her to the vet and they wanted a name. It was all I could come up with, quickly! We got her in only because she willingly walked into a carrier. Once in a while, she lets us pet her.

The second picture is of another fluffer, but with more white on the chest. With how much they move around, that extra white is the primary way we can tell them apart. That one has taken to hanging out on the window shelf while I put the food out, and has been willing to let me do that, and even not running away while I pet other cats beside it. It has even sniffed my fingers a bit. I’ve managed to touch him (I’m going to guess “him”, only because – as far as I can tell – he didn’t get pregnant last year), but he takes off when I do.

Then there are these two.

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These are both among the oldest kittens of this past year. A matched set of adorable fluffiness.

Now that I look at the picture, I can see why the one tends to have its eye looking half closed all the time. There seems to be an issue with the inner eyelid.

Now, on to the frustrating part.

My daughter and I went into town today. I brought a couple of things for my mother, so we were going to go there first, then go to the grocery store for our last shop of the year.

My mother had requested some of her Pepto, because what the hospital was giving her apparently wasn’t working. She wanted me to sneak it in to her and not tell them. Which I had no intention of doing, but I did bring a bottle from the stash I brought to our place, because my brother buying her to many made her angry instead of thankful. I also grabbed another of my mini tagine sauce bowls for my mother to use to count her pills. I’m glad I had a set of four of those, because two are already at my mother’s apartment!

Our first stop was at the nurse’s station. I showed them the Pepto and explained why my mother wanted it. They had to keep it so that a doctor could authorize it, and she made sure to label it with my mother’s name as we talked. I also showed her the tiny tagine and explained about my mother using it to count pills, because home care would sometimes drop a pill while getting them out of her bubble packs. Now that she’s putting them in her palm to count them, she doesn’t seem to be seeing them as well, and has miscounted. I just wanted them to know what it was there for.

My daughter and I then went on to visit my mother.

The first surprise was that her door was not quite shut. There’s a sign on her door to keep it closed at all times.

The second surprise was when we walked in and found she had a visitor.

Our vandal.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

When he saw us walk in, he immediately began to say his good byes and left, not making eye contact with us at all. I did say Happy New Year as he went by, but he ignored it.

After he was gone and I gave my mother a hug hello, I asked if she knew how he found out she was in the hospital. She just threw her hands up and said, maybe my sister. I wasn’t sure about this, since my siblings and I had been talking about making sure not to tell anyone about my mother being in the hospital, so that word would not get to him.

Thankfully, he was on good behaviour, even though his wife was not there, but she had specifically told him not to come around anymore, after his last yelling session at her place, not that long ago. It didn’t stop him from leaving a really nasty letter more recently. We really hoped that she would be safe from him in the hospital. She tried to say he was being okay, but I pointed out to her that’s because she’s in a hospital, not at her apartment – but that this could change at any time.

Then I told brought out her little pill counting bowl, which she was happy with. I told her about bringing the Pepto and leaving it at the desk, which she got angry with. She had told me not to do that, because she intended to basically sneak taking it without the hospital staff knowing. I told her, she can’t do that. They need to know what she is taking, when and how. She complained that they took away her painkillers and I said, it’s the same thing. They can’t leave medications because patients might make mistakes. Oh, but she doesn’t have that problem, so they should let her keep her extra meds. I had to tell her, they can’t pick and choose who they can do this with and pointed out that she does forget things.

Then she got mad at me for another reason. I was wearing my work sweats, and I’ve got a tear in one pantleg. She spotted the hole and got angry. I shouldn’t wear clothes with holes in them because we live in the best country in the world.

…

???

Needless to say, we didn’t stay long. Her lunch was about to be delivered, anyhow.

As we left, I stopped at the nurse’s station again. I’d called about our vandal before, and I wanted to confirm with them who he was. I made sure they knew I understood there isn’t much they can do, but at least there was an awareness of a potential problem.

I had suggested that my daughter go on ahead to the truck while I talked to the, but she stayed with me. She was concerned that our vandal might be hanging out in the parking lot. I later found out that he’s getting his chemo at this hospital, so he’s going to be there regularly.

*sigh*

Also, for someone who is dying, he looked really good and pretty spry.

Thankfully, he wasn’t stalking us in the parking lot, but we also had to keep in mind that he might also be at the grocery store we were going to. Once we parked there, I sent a quick update to my siblings in our chat group about him being there before going in (we never saw him in the grocery store, either, thankfully).

While shopping, I got a response from my sister, saying that people from church had recognized my mother, so that’s probably how word got out. I made a short response saying that my mother thought my sister had told him, but was just guessing. My brother tried to phone me on my cell, but it was just too loud for us to talk. My daughter and I had our own shopping lists, so we took care of that, loaded up the truck, then headed home.

My phone started dinging while we were driving so, when we stopped along the way for my daughter to check the mail, I took a look.

This is where I’m going to be fighting a battle between being honest about things on this blog, while being careful not to say things I shouldn’t, even though this blog is anonymous.

Long story short, my sister did tell our vandal about my mother being in the hospital – at my mother’s request. They both tried to hide that from me and my brother.

The whole point of our group chat has been to communicate with each other because my mother likes to play us against each other, telling each of us different things about the same topics and the like. We also need to protect my mother, not just from people like our vandal, but from herself, if necessary. Yet, my sister still let my mother manipulate her, and … let’s just say, she didn’t see the problem with this. Even after I pointed out that she put my mother’s health and safety at risk, by going along with my mother’s self sabotaging demands.

My brother and SIL, meanwhile, were on their way to visit my mother as well. Once we had the chance, we talked on the phone while they made a stop along the way. As you can imagine, they were pretty alarmed by what my sister did, too, and that our vandal showed up. My sister added something else that is of concern, too. Our vandal’s wife works for the health care system, in some administrative capacity, and apparently said something about the waiting list for the nursing home my mother wants to get into. There have been other things that have come up that suggest that she’s been looking up private medical files and passing things on to our vandal, and that seems to have happened again in relation to my mother. This, of course, would be a PIPA violation.

Anyhow, once at home and settled in, I responded to my sister about what happened. I tried to be very careful in addressing the issue without making personal attacks. She responded with a personal attack.

*sigh*

Unfortunately, all this shows is that my sister cannot be trusted when it comes to caring for our mother, because she allows herself to be manipulated. That is involved our vandal took it from being a minor frustration to alarming, because it has literally put my mother’s safety at risk – and both she and my mother tried to keep it a secret from my brother and I, because they both knew we were against our vandal having access to my mother!

*arrrrggggghhhh*

When they were done their visit, my brother called to update me while they were driving home. They had an all right visit. My mother wouldn’t have said anything except the noticed and commented on a box of chocolates (my mother keeps saying, she doesn’t want sweets) and a Christmas card signed by our vandal and his wife. She then acted like she just remembered that, oh, right, our vandal had come to see her – but he behaved well!

*sigh*

They explained to her, why this is a problem and told her that, if he shows up again, to use the call button so someone will come over, and see that he’s there. That will make things a bit safer for her, at least.

My brother had tried to get some idea of what’s going to be happening with Mom. Everyone is saying we need to talk to someone else, and no one knows anything. One thing we do know now is, if my mother gets paneled to go straight to a nursing home from the hospital, rather than being discharged to home, they will start billing her for her time in the hospital. She would no longer be their patient, so the province won’t cover her costs anymore, so she’ll basically be charged for room and board.

Which means we’re going to have to do something about her apartment, so she’s not paying both at the same time. Yet, we can’t really start doing that until we officially know that she won’t be coming back to her apartment.

My mother has so. Much. Stuff. In that tiny apartment. This is not going to be easy. Most of it is papers she refuses to throw away, but there’s important stuff mixed in with stuff that she should have thrown away long ago. She has a habit of reusing envelopes from junk mail or solicitations for donations and sticking important things in them, all mixed up.

Well, it will need to be done, and that will mostly fall on me, since I’m the closest and my schedule is the most flexible. At least I’ll have a daughter or two, to help me!

I really wish we didn’t have to deal with this whole soap opera going on, and could just focus on taking care of my mother!

Ah, well. Such is life. As my dad used to say, you can laugh, or you can cry, and I’d rather laugh.

So that’s what I’m going to do!

The Re-Farmer