Agenda, You Say? Plans? Ha Ha Ha Ha!
Fri., July 10, 05:14 PM
You know the old saying, of course, in one form or another: “You want to hear God laugh? Make plans.” One of the good things about being retired is that one’s plans can be more flexible. Nevertheless, there are things that must be done, and I do try to fit them in — when Husband is at day care, when UD is at Outpatient…
I had some tentative ideas about Monday, but I was feeling a little low. So UD took me to have my nails done, and we walked — maybe a half mile. There were prescriptons to pick up, but they weren’t critical. I was happy just to come home. The mail that day included a confusing bill from the VA. I would call on Tuesday.
I phoned, they looked in the computer, they could not explain the charges. They would call back; I would wait. I was home all day Tuesday (with my paperwork), and the answer was no answer. I needed to talk to our social worker, who checked in with me only last week. She does not work on Tuesday, but I left a message to call back.
Tuesday evening brought us the news that a relative had passed away, a young man in his thirties. The funeral would be Wednesday. I looked at the calendar and screamed; we had oxygen delivery and maintenance that day. If the man came early enough… That’s no help — someone has to be here when the van brings Husband home. UD would represent the family. Maybe we can bring Husband to visit during the shiva.
Plans? I went out immediately after breakfast on Wednesday to pick up the prescriptions from the day before. UD waited to turn Husband over to the van attendant; I doubt he even knew I was gone. The only thing that happened as planned was that the oxygen man came. I stayed home all day. I cleaned house. I changed Husband’s bed linen and got yelled at for my trouble. And, oh yes, the social worker never called. But the carpenter did; I need an estimate on repairing some windows… He would stop by Thursday afternoon.
We had an appointment with the attorney Thursday morning. I had not slept well and finally got up at six and showered. Both Son and UD would be present, as we discuss Husband’s finances and putting him into permanent care. I must have looked as beat up as I felt. Afterwards, Son took us for coffee before starting back to Massachusetts.
I came home and wrote a letter to fax to the nursing home. The admissions officer doesn’t always respond, but I knew she would jump at a message that said I would pay privately. “I need you to fill out some papers. Shall I mail them or just have him carry them home?” Mail them, please; he opens the envelope and then he won’t give me the papers. (Dementia patients have moments of clarity and cleverness.) I have other matters to attend to — not to mention revising my will again — but at least I feel we are on our way.
Husband said he didn’t feel well Thursday night, but he was fine Friday morning, except for being angry about things in general. We alerted the day care attendant, and she said he is going through a phase. (UD suggested Pamprin.) The social worker finally called back; it is a new VA policy for people in our “category.” It will cost us about $300 more a month, but it really is a bargain.
After both Husband and UD had left, I finally did go out — to Harmon’s for some odds and ends and to the supermarket to turn in my empties and pick up such things as milk and orange juice for you-know-who. I came back to watch some “Eureka”; a new season begins Friday night.
I guess I’ll wait till next week to have my hair cut. “…Lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise…”
