Month: October 2016

This blog post is dedicated to my new BFF, Miss Shirley (not her real name). Miss Shirley happens to be one of the residents of the rehabilitation facility my mother is staying at while she recovers and receives therapy for the shoulder she dislocated after suffering a seizure. Miss Shirley also happens to be all kinds of amazing for so many different reasons.
First, I have to explain to you how difficult it is for me to entrust my mom’s safety to others. I’ve been taking care of her the last two years. I understand her when she speaks Serbian. I also understand that sometimes hearing her say the words,”I need a spoon” really means that she has to use the bathroom. It’s bizarre and difficult to explain to others, but I get it because I’ve lived with it for so long. 98% of the nurses and aides at this facility look at my mom as if she’s a train derailing. While that may be an accurate description on certain days, she’s still a person. She may be feisty and difficult to understand, but she still deserves to be cared for properly, just like anyone else. My mother was never good at sitting still, even when she was healthy. She always needed to be up and moving about. Unfortunately, her constant need to be on the move isn’t safe at the moment. She’s unsteady on her feet and needs to be monitored at all times. Less than 24 hours into her stay at this facility, she fell as she was trying to stand up. This happened in the dining room at dinner time. I explained to the staff (rather loudly) that she needs to be supervised at meals. Period. It’s not up for discussion as she WILL try to stand up. There was lots of hemming and hawing about finding a staff member to sit with her, but finally they at least moved her to a table closer to the front of the room where she’d be more visible. As my mother was getting situated at her new table, I was getting to know her new table mate:Miss Shirley.

Miss Shirley is a large, imposing African-American woman. Throughout our first meal spent with her, I noticed she was very very comfortable bossing the staff around. I noticed her watching me and I decided instantly that Miss Shirley would be my baba-sitter. The woman has had a couple of strokes but let’s keep it real: I wanted her to boss my mom around the way she was bossing the staff. Even though I was slightly intimidated by the way she glared at everyone, I decided to try talking to her. When I asked her if she was enjoying her meal, she glared at me and said, “No. It tastes like shit.” Ok sooo winning her over would be harder than I thought. My mom is on a purée diet at the facility which Miss Shirley noticed and asked, “What the hell is that shit they feeding your mama?” I told her that my son noticed on his last visit and asked why Baba was eating cat food. Miss Shirley’s face lit up and she told me I was raising a smart kid. Then she demanded that a staff member bring her a Big Mac. Of course, the answer was a resounding no. I silently vowed to bring her all the Big Macs in all the land if she could just baba-sit my mom during meals.

I decided to ask Miss Shirley to be my baba-sitter during our second meal with her. I wasn’t sure what she’d say, I just knew that I was desperate. I couldn’t be there for every meal with my mom because of work and my son. The staff already let her fall once so my only hope was this 80 something year old stroke victim. When a staff member wheeled Miss Shirley to our table, I didn’t even hesitate. I looked at her and said,”Hi Miss Shirley I’m so sorry to bother you but you seem like you’ve got it together and I was wondering if you could keep an eye on my mom at meals you know just tell her to sit down if she stands she’ll listen to you I promise she won’t try to argue she’ll sit down please can you do that for me please?” When I finally stopped to take a breath, Miss Shirley smiled and said, “Of course I’ll watch your mama when you’re not here and I’ll give you a full report when I see you.” JACKPOT! I didn’t even ASK for a report, but let’s do this!! We shook hands to seal the deal and I have never felt better. Miss Shirley has saved the day. Yeah, I guess the staff has gotten better too. They’ve finally realized my mom needs to be monitored thoroughly. But who are we kidding? It’s all about Miss Shirley. I’m currently calculating how many Big Macs I’ll owe her by the time this is all over.

• So, friends, this is why we all need a Miss Shirley. But you can get your own damn Miss Shirley, because you can’t have mine.

 

 

I am the mother of a tiny six-year-old boy. I am also “mother” to a 71 year old woman who happens to be my mom. It’s been over a week since my mom was admitted to the hospital after having a seizure. For the past ten days, I have been attempting to walk a very thin tightrope between being at the hospital with my mother and being at home with my son. I also have a wonderful husband who has to be put aside for a bit while I try to figure this out. Oh, yeah, there’s a full time job too. So. This sucks. I’m not writing this because I want you to feel sorry for me. I’m not writing this because I feel like whining ( well, maybe a little.) I’m writing this because: It. Sucks. Yes, I realize my choice of words aren’t the most eloquent. If you’re looking for Shakespeare, you’ve got the wrong blog. If you’re looking for honesty, here it is. Five reasons the past ten days have SUCKED:

1) My son saw my mom’s seizure. People, there’s a reason we play Tooth Fairy/Santa Claus/Easter Bunny with our kids. We want them to remain kids as long as possible. Of course we know they will eventually have to grow up and be faced with horrific choices (Trump or Clinton? How about vodka? Vodka,2016. That’s a vote we can all agree on.) Bad experiences are a part of life. But why did my kid have to see this seizure at the age of six? I wish he could have gone another few years without a care in the world. It is what it is. But it sucks.

2) That hospital smell. You know it and I know it. My kid won’t even hug me anymore because I smell like Grey’s Anatomy (not, unfortunately, like Patrick Dempsey.) That smell is on my clothes, in my hair, even in my car. It’s become a part of me. And it sucks.

3) 98 percent of my mom’s nurses look like they’re nine years old. I see these children and I have to physically hold my mouth closed so I don’t ask the following questions: Do you know how to tie your shoes? Can you count to ten? Are you sure you know how to hook up an IV? Maybe you should call your mommy and have her do it. One of the young nurses commented on how tired I’ve been looking. She told me she knows the feeling because she feels the same way after going out drinking with her friends. She compared partying with her friends to my day spent feeding my mom, worrying about my mom, and worrying about my son. If these are the medical professionals we’ve got lined up, just hand me a scalpel if I ever need surgery. I’ll fix my own heart. For every young drunken nurse, however, there have been 10 wonderful, caring, compassionate nurses. I am so grateful to them.

4)I’m so tired I can’t see straight. I’m only writing this because laying down to sleep means being alone with my racing thoughts. That sucks.

5)Here’s what sucks most of all: When I’m with my mom at the hospital, I feel like a shitty mom to my son. When I’m with my son, I feel like a shitty daughter. I KNOW I’ve been a shitty wife. All I know is that I’m trying my best to please everyone. I suck at it.

Thanks for reading this garbage. I will read this blog entry in a few days and realize how awful it is. I’m not even thinking clearly right now. I am being honest, though. So that’s something.