The Rabbit Hole

So yesterday I visited ancient Mom at the nursing home, for a quarterly case management meeting. The state requires these, and it's a gathering of nurses, nutritionists, social workers, and activity directors -- to assess the long term patient's needs and future care. As I arrived, a young man with a clipboard was waiting outside. He was a social worker intern, and needed some info for his file. Mom was having a rough morning: clearly some nightmares she had were still real to her. She asked me why Dr. Eric's boy Josh, normally such a nice young man, ignored her when she tried to get his attention about a potential fire at her house, caused by overcooked spaghetti. And then there was this mean, giant nurse, who came in and laid down in a chair, ignoring all of her patients. I couldn't bring her out of it, and the social worker intern, very soft spoken, was getting nowhere with his questions. So I comically "translated" for him -- by essentially yelling his questions. The process was long and annoying, and near the end he asked to confirm Mom's previous address. Turns out --he had the WRONG patient! He never apologized for wasting our time -- just sauntered out. Great future for this fellow -- I can tell. At the meeting, one of the nurses said Mom has been waking in the wee hours, terrified and calling for help. The plan is for her to see a geriatric psychiatist -- for some sleep aids, and possibly some anti psychotics. I left very down. I've been Mom's primary caregiver for years, and watched her gradual decline, and porpoising back, but this time it was so clear how much she's lost. And I guess I had been comforted by her happy affect -- which may be coming to a close as her senility takes a turn. I headed back to the office, and strategized a bit with Stu and Brian, and then headed to the U for a great Canes game with Dr. Eric and Barry, Dana, and Barry's boys Scott and Josh. It was a terrific night: 2 gin and tonics, and great company and game. A new Assistant AD had reached out to me, and invited me and some friends for a tour of the Hurricane 100 Club. He took Eric, Dana, and me there, and we ran into old friend Mike, his sister Jeannine, and son Chris, and old buddy Paul. The evening was a great counterpoint to a downer day with Mom.