*sigh*
My mother did it again.
Last night, I had a voice message on my cell phone, letting my know that there was no one to do my mother’s evening med assist.
Early this morning, I got a call from the home care coordinator, and found out what happened.
My mother’s supper and evening med assists are usually done by the same person. When the home care aid came in for the suppertime visit, apparently my mother started making racist comments about “brown people” being “cockroaches”.
(in retrospect, I am second guessing this; that is not a word my mother would use. I don’t think she knows what a cockroach even is.)
The home care aid said that she found this insulting, because she is Metis, and my mother apparently responded by saying she was a cockroach.
The aid now refuses to go back to my mother, and did the paperwork for that. It went up the chain, and that’s why I got the call.
We talked about it for a while, and there is recognition that my mother’s cognitive decline is playing a part on this. The problem is that this can affect her long term care panel. My mother actually wants to be in a nursing home. A very specific one, and we’re trying to accomplish this for her. The staff at long term care and supporting living, however, are of all races, so this could be a problem.
My mother is basically self sabotaging herself.
When I was done with the call, I sent out a group message to my siblings about it. Not long after, messaged to let us know he’d phoned her from work. My mother did admit she shouldn’t have said what she said to the home care worker, and even said she was sorry. My brother told her that he wasn’t the one she should apologize to – she needs to apologize to the home care worker, but she won’t be coming back, because of how my mother treated her.
My mother was dismissive about it, saying there are lots of workers, and there’s always people looking for jobs. He told her, no, there is a shortage of workers, and you just don’t treat people like that.
She did seem to catch on that she had actually done something wrong.
The morning med assist arrived while they were talking, so they got off the phone. I later found out that my mother had told the morning person to extend her apologies.
I had my appointment in town, though, so I was going to call my mother later.
I got to my appointment early, so I popped into the Red Apple (a rural department store) for a bit. A display caught my eye and distracted me from what I planned to look at, and before long, I was walking out with a caftan and what I at first thought was a sleeveless summer dress, except it was pants, not a skirt. Something that is stepped into from the top, with no zippers or buttons. They were both “one size fits all”, but I didn’t have time to try on either of them. I figured if they didn’t fit me, they might fit my daughters. What I was really after was the caftan, though, for the upcoming summer heat.
Yes, this is relevant.
After my appointment, I remembered to pop over to the autobody shop to ask some questions. Since they were going to be working on the truck at some point, I asked about the door handle and the driver’s seatbelt. The handle broke off and I have to open the window to open it from the outside. I’d called our garage and got an estimate for it, but they don’t normally do that sort of work. The driver’s seatbelt buckle has a terrible habit of suddenly coming undone. Once it catches, it catches, but sometimes it feels like it’s buckled, but isn’t quite all the way, so it’ll suddenly come undone while I’m driving.
It turns out that yes, they could do this work for me, but it would be expensive. The door handle, which is snapped off, is expensive and would cost about the same as the garage would charge me. The garage, however, could go to a scrap yard or something, and find a second hand one. Something they can’t do. As for the seatbelt, that would also be really expensive, because they would have to replace the entire thing, not just the buckle, because that’s how it’s sold. Again, the garage could look for a second hand one for us at a better price.
Then we talked about our insurance claim.
Normally, the insurance will cover like for like and, if that can’t be found, they’ll allow an improvement, but the client pays the difference. The problem is, box covers like the one we had fit newer models, which have different sized truck boxes. The only one she could find that would fit our truck was an off market version, and the insurance company normally wouldn’t approve that. After talking to the adjuster, he said he would have to pass it up the line for approval and get back to her.
He hasn’t gotten back to her yet.
If they don’t approve the off market cover, and there are no other options, they might offer us cash, instead. We would still need a box cover, of course. As for cash, the adjuster put the value of the old box cover at a dollar, because he couldn’t find anything to tell him what it actually cost. So who knows what we would get.
The twisted frame is covered, though, as it needs to be fixed before a box cover can be installed. We’d be charged for part of the painting, because of the rust on the fender, around the wheel well. She told me she would ask the repair guys to try do it so only the top of the frame needs to be painted, not the whole panel. That would save us up to $140.
Then there was the broken tail light cover. The insurance company won’t cover that and, since I can’t prove it wasn’t broken before the box cover was ripped off by the wind, I am not going to contest it. She’s going to see if they can find an off market one for us. The entire tail light assembly gets replaced, not just the cover, and a new market value one can cost $250-$300.
So now I know the status of our insurance claim, and to contact our garage to see if they can find the parts we need from the scrap yard or something. Getting the door handle fixed before winter would be good, that’s for sure!
By the time I got home, it was about mid afternoon. I grabbed a quick lunch, then headed outside. I decided to work on the permanent trellis bed, but needed to clear around it, first. In this area, it made more sense to break out my brother’s push mower first, then go back with the weed trimmer.
Of course, since I had the mower going anyhow, I kept mowing further out. I hadn’t refilled the tank before I started, so I basically just kept going until I ran out of gas, then went to get some more.
Which is when I discovered I had a voice mail message.
From home care.
There was no one to do my mother’s suppertime or evening med assists.
Then, while I was listening to this message, a text message came in.
If was from my mother’s LifeLine provider, telling me it looked like the pendant was no longer connected to the based, and saying to test it. If a test didn’t work, it gave a number to call.
I put away the gas can, and the lawn mower.
Once back inside, I called up my mother. The first thing was to explain about the text I got, and get her to press the button on her LifeLine pendant.
There was no response.
I would have to phone the company.
I then told my mother about the call I got from home care, and that there was no one to come for her two evening med assists. She asked if I knew why, and I told her, I just had a phone message. Her response was, “oh, they’re trying to “get” me”, or something like that. My mother thinks the home care aids are deliberately not coming to give her her meds so that she’ll die. I told her, no, you did this to yourself. Because of how you treated the home care aid, they don’t want to work with you anymore.
Oh, you know about that, she said…
I told her I got a call this morning from the home care coordinator about it. My mother said she’d called her, herself, and wanted her to “visit” (have a meeting). By then, the office was closed, so I told her she wouldn’t hear back until Monday. I then told her I needed to call the LifeLine number, and would be coming over to do her med assist.
After being on hold for awhile, I got through to someone and explained the text message I got, and that I got my mother to test her pendent, with no response. He looked up her file and it seemed her pendent was no longer synced with the base. So he gave me step by step instructions on how to reset it and test it again, and told me that if it didn’t work, call back.
That done, I finally got to finish cleaning up and changing. Our predicted high of 22C/72F turned out to be 27C/81F, so I decided to wear my new caftan, which did fit (the other garment did not, so I have it to my daughters to try one). It is a very loud, mostly deep red, with bold colours in the patterns. More importantly, it’s made of a very light, breezy fabric that feels as close to being naked in the heat, without actually being naked.
So, off I went to my mother’s. When I got there, she was fussing in the kitchen and didn’t stop, so I asked for her LifeLine pendent and did the reset, as instructed, ending with a test. When it was done, what should have happened when I pressed the pendant button at the end was an almost instant human voice responding.
There was nothing.
So I called the number on the machine, using my cell phone (the machine is linked through my mother’s land line). I got the guy on speaker as we talked and he walked me through doing the reset again, then doing the test call.
Nothing.
At which point, they simply replace the machine, and he started that request going. If necessary, they know to call me on our land line first, before trying my cell phone.
That done, I went back to my mother, who was at her dining table, so update her and start getting her meds.
Which is when she noticed what I was wearing.
She commented on it and I told her I had picked it up, just today.
She started laughing at me, because of course she would, and told me it looked like something for sleeping in.
*sigh*
I told her no, not at all. It would be terrible to sleep in (it’s ankle length, I’d be tangled in it in a heartbeat!).
She still said it looked like something to sleep in, but that’s okay, she’s got something similar that she uses to sleep in, too.
…
No, she doesn’t have anything like a caftan. She has night gowns.
She was absolutely oblivious to the idea that laughing at me for what I was wearing was not a nice thing to do. It’s something I have come to expect from her, so it doesn’t really bother me, but she does this to everyone.
That did give me the segue to talk about what happened yesterday.
Long story short, it seems my mother did genuinely seem to realize she had done something wrong. She still tried to justify it. Saying things like, she gave her opinion, the home care worker gave her opinion, like it was some normal conversation. Then she started saying, she’s alone at home all day, and she wants to talk.
I told her, when they come to her place, they are there to do their job and leave. They are not there to talk about politic or religion or race or whatever. She needs to treat people nicely, and I stressed that her behaviour could keep her from getting into the nursing home she wants to be in.
As we talked, she mentioned again that she’d called the case coordinator, while bringing out the home care worker list of names and times they’d be coming. The number on there is what she called and left a message.
She called the shift scheduler.
I told her, this number was for someone else. I’d given her the number for the case coordinator, and it was with the schedule, but it was gone. Meanwhile, my mother was angry that the number she wanted wasn’t on there. I told her, this number would have different people answering, depending on the time of day and day of the week. The number she wanted is office hours only.
Meanwhile, I got her supper time meds out, and she took them a bit early. That freed up her little pill counting bowl and I set out her before bed pills, plus her inhaler, for later. I also updated the notebook I keep inside the lock box for the next home care aid to see.
Once all of that was done and everything was put away, I stayed for a while longer, and we talked some more about her behaviour. This time, my mother took out what she’d showed the home care worker. It was a photocopy from a new article, showing a grown of anti-Western, pro-terrorist demonstrators, in Canada, and she had basically asked the woman her opinion. Apparently, she said she agreed with the pro-terrorist demonstrators, which ticked my mother off. The women then told my mother that her ex-husband was black, and her kids were half black.
…
The case coordinator told me she’d said she was Metis.
So we have another discrepancy on the stories, here!
I asked my mother, why do you even have this? (She would have had to get someone to print out or make a photo copy of the image for her) And why would you show it to the home care aid?
My mother started talking about being lonely and wanting to have someone to talk to. (It sounds like her neighbours in the building are avoiding her now.) I said fine. Talk about the weather. Talk about the gardens (the building’s garden plots are visible out her window). Don’t talk about stuff like this.
I also recommended she stop watching TV news, because it’s not good for her!
My mother agreed that she would not talk about things unrelated to her med assist when the home care workers came.
Once I was sure she was set up for the evening, I headed home. By then, it was time for my own supper. My plans to work in the garden after clearing around the bed I was going to work on were out the window, but it was light enough to at least do the watering, including the new trees and bushes.
While I was watering the high raised bed, I picked a couple of things.
One is a Purple Prince turnip. I thought the yellow one should have been a Zlata radish, but it was so big, I thought maybe I somehow had some Gold Ball turnip seeds in there.
Later on, while watering the low raised bed in the east yard, which as the same mix, plus lettuce seeds, I picked a few more of the yellow ones. They really are radishes, not turnips. It just happens that this one is very large for a radish!
While I was still out there, my older daughter came out to talk about a potential visit from my son from another mother, later in the year. It has been a long time since we’ve seen him! She stayed out to help with the watering, too. The girls had already taken care of feeding the outside cats while I was done, but after I was done watering, I stayed out to play with Poirot’s kittens. They REALLY want attention, and love to get under foot!
Some of the bigger kittens have infected eyes, but I was able to wash only Sir Robin’s eye. I tried to get Havarti (the one orange tabby kitten) to wash one of his eyes, but he would not let me get him. I hope I’ll be able to wash it out, tomorrow.
Kitten therapy is good.
This has turned out to be a pretty messed up day. I really hope my mother takes our warnings to heart, and starts behaving better.
In talking about the situation, my brother had a good point, though. As people age, this sort of thing is not at all unusual. This is usually something that would play a part in getting someone IN to long term care, not out of it. My brother remembers an eye doctor we used to go to, many years ago. He was the sweetest man every, but when dementia hit, he suddenly starting saying some incredibly racist things. It was actually a big part of how he ended up in long term care. I supposed it’s different with my mother, since she has always been racist. Her cognitive decline is just bringing it out more, not creating it. The end result is the same, though, and as bad as my mother can be, others in long term care are far worse.
*sigh* again.
Well, whatever happens, happens. We do the best we can.
What other choice is there?
The Re-Farmer




