(How my blog topics have changed! I vaguely remember once writing an entire post questioning whether underwear, or what type, should be worn under yoga pants. I kind of miss having nothing more pressing to worry about than whether panty-lines are visible beneath my workout wear!)
Anyway. I spent nine and a half hours in the emergency room with my mom yesterday. Three and a half of those hours were spent in the waiting room before even getting moved to an actual patient room, so we clearly had a less dire emergency than many others. Anyway, that’s a story for another time. Or not. Because it would probably just come off as an enormous rant, and I’m sure none of us are in the mood for that!
Besides, the most important thing about those nine and a half hours is that it gave Mom and me lots of opportunity to talk. She felt bad that I’d had to forsake any other plans I’d had for the day (which was mainly work … a rush project that I really needed to get back to and didn’t.) I spent much time trying to assure her that no matter how important I thought it was to get back to work, she trumps everything else.
As we sat and watched the minutes and hours tick by, waiting for the hospital staff to decide whether they’d admit her, we contemplated how we’d manage if they sent her home. She’s had a bad week and is in no shape to be alone over the weekend when she has no home care services. When she’s feeling normal, she manages on her own on the weekends until noon or so when my sister or I come to make sure she eats and has some company for the rest of the day. When she’s sick, it’s always a challenge to make sure someone is with her at all times. We’re walking a tight-rope much of the time.
Mom was the one who brought it up yesterday – the idea of moving to an assisted living facility. I was cautious at first. Didn’t want her to realize how much and how often I think about getting her into such a place. But when she stated that she’d really been giving it some thought, I pounced like a tiger and started touting all of the positives of making such a change, not the least of which is that she would have companionship. I assured her that my sister and I would still come spend time with her just as often as we do now, but without the burden of all the driving back and forth, cooking, clean-up, etc.
We already looked at a really great place a couple of years ago when both she and Dad were supposed to move. When he died the day before they were supposed to move in, she couldn’t bring herself to go alone and has stayed in her town house ever since. How often I’ve anguished over the fact that Mom would have been so much better off if we’d have accomplished that move before Dad was gone. It has been a long and difficult couple of years, but maybe there’s finally a light at the end of the tunnel!