Rash
So, how long did I go before I cracked up? It's been since before Christmas, so not too bad of a run, considering the strain.
Today, I gave notice at the nursing home. After yelling. A lot. Some of you have been privy to my temper, and for those of you who haven't, let me tell you: It's a real treat. The director was out of his office when I started raising hell to the woman I met with on Tuesday night and told her that I was fed up, that nobody helped my mother with things like cleaning her apnea machine, rotating her mattress, they won't fill up their little hot tub for her because it's "inconvenient" and she is repeatedly told, "Ask your family."
Well, if the family has to do everything for her, because they won't even provide TOILET PAPER, then I'd like to know what we are paying $4400 a month for. A space so small that a college student would rightfully object? So they can say no to her fifty times a day when she asks for meds? Thanks, I can do that at home for free. I told them that.
There was a young girl, in her twenties, who came in to talk to me when I was waiting in the director's office, and I said, "I don't really think I need to talk to him. I am giving you my thirty days' notice right now."
Then, I stalked out. And the girl, oh, you silly girl, said, "Um, the thing is? We are going to have to have that from you in writing." She was about two inches away from my face, so I leaned forward just a bit and gave her a look that I have been told is frightening to mere mortals, and hissed between my clenched teeth, "THEN. GO. GET. ME. THE PAPER."
She brought me a blank sheet of paper. I continued ranting while I filled it out. "When Becky first told us about this place, she told us that we could go out of the country for TWO MONTHS, and our mother would be taken care of. Well, I have been up here THREE DAYS this week, and when I'm not here, my aunt and uncle are here. Also, I have seen the way you talk to her-- you give her less consideration than a dog."
See, what they forgot is this little thing called family. My mother is a huge pain in the ass. Huge. But nobody else is allowed to treat her dismissively. She is MY pain in the ass, and I'm the only person who gets to display frustration to her. Well, and my dad and my brother. But some idiots I'm paying $4400 to? Nope.
I've been ignoring calls from the director. So far, somebody has left two messages on my cell. I called my aunt Lori in the car and told her. I told her that I'd rather move my mom back into my dad's house and take care of her than continue this.
"Oh, I don't know, Jen. I think you're taking on a lot."
Yes. I know. But it's got to beat having to drive 40 minutes one way all the time. There is a day care for the elderly down the road, so I am going to enroll her there. My dad even offered to help take care of her. He said, "Well, I didn't particularly want her to go in the first place, but I didn't know how you guys could manage everything."
Not to mention the fact that we are going to run out of money soon. This is untenable. No, we cannot afford $300 more a month. For another shared room. I also said, "We are paying more for that room than Alta is, so if Alta is having a problem sleeping because GOD FORBID, AN OLD LADY HAS TO GET UP TO USE THE BATHROOM DURING THE NIGHT then you can move HER."
Alta goes to bed at 7pm. My mother doesn't. They are the ones who wanted her to share a room. It's like they have never met an old person before. Or maybe they just push people til they break.
My mom called and said that Debbie (the one I met with Tuesday night) had come in and apologized and for the first time asked about cleaning her apnea machine. Aw, that's special. TOO LATE.
The young, silly girl who gave me a blank piece of paper said, "Well, I'm sorry we didn't meet your needs."
"Oh, save it, " I told her. "You don't care. You're just going to fill her room with another old person you can take advantage of. They aren't exactly in short supply."
I told my mother I had said that and she said, "Elderly. It's not nice to say old person."
Today, I gave notice at the nursing home. After yelling. A lot. Some of you have been privy to my temper, and for those of you who haven't, let me tell you: It's a real treat. The director was out of his office when I started raising hell to the woman I met with on Tuesday night and told her that I was fed up, that nobody helped my mother with things like cleaning her apnea machine, rotating her mattress, they won't fill up their little hot tub for her because it's "inconvenient" and she is repeatedly told, "Ask your family."
Well, if the family has to do everything for her, because they won't even provide TOILET PAPER, then I'd like to know what we are paying $4400 a month for. A space so small that a college student would rightfully object? So they can say no to her fifty times a day when she asks for meds? Thanks, I can do that at home for free. I told them that.
There was a young girl, in her twenties, who came in to talk to me when I was waiting in the director's office, and I said, "I don't really think I need to talk to him. I am giving you my thirty days' notice right now."
Then, I stalked out. And the girl, oh, you silly girl, said, "Um, the thing is? We are going to have to have that from you in writing." She was about two inches away from my face, so I leaned forward just a bit and gave her a look that I have been told is frightening to mere mortals, and hissed between my clenched teeth, "THEN. GO. GET. ME. THE PAPER."
She brought me a blank sheet of paper. I continued ranting while I filled it out. "When Becky first told us about this place, she told us that we could go out of the country for TWO MONTHS, and our mother would be taken care of. Well, I have been up here THREE DAYS this week, and when I'm not here, my aunt and uncle are here. Also, I have seen the way you talk to her-- you give her less consideration than a dog."
See, what they forgot is this little thing called family. My mother is a huge pain in the ass. Huge. But nobody else is allowed to treat her dismissively. She is MY pain in the ass, and I'm the only person who gets to display frustration to her. Well, and my dad and my brother. But some idiots I'm paying $4400 to? Nope.
I've been ignoring calls from the director. So far, somebody has left two messages on my cell. I called my aunt Lori in the car and told her. I told her that I'd rather move my mom back into my dad's house and take care of her than continue this.
"Oh, I don't know, Jen. I think you're taking on a lot."
Yes. I know. But it's got to beat having to drive 40 minutes one way all the time. There is a day care for the elderly down the road, so I am going to enroll her there. My dad even offered to help take care of her. He said, "Well, I didn't particularly want her to go in the first place, but I didn't know how you guys could manage everything."
Not to mention the fact that we are going to run out of money soon. This is untenable. No, we cannot afford $300 more a month. For another shared room. I also said, "We are paying more for that room than Alta is, so if Alta is having a problem sleeping because GOD FORBID, AN OLD LADY HAS TO GET UP TO USE THE BATHROOM DURING THE NIGHT then you can move HER."
Alta goes to bed at 7pm. My mother doesn't. They are the ones who wanted her to share a room. It's like they have never met an old person before. Or maybe they just push people til they break.
My mom called and said that Debbie (the one I met with Tuesday night) had come in and apologized and for the first time asked about cleaning her apnea machine. Aw, that's special. TOO LATE.
The young, silly girl who gave me a blank piece of paper said, "Well, I'm sorry we didn't meet your needs."
"Oh, save it, " I told her. "You don't care. You're just going to fill her room with another old person you can take advantage of. They aren't exactly in short supply."
I told my mother I had said that and she said, "Elderly. It's not nice to say old person."
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