Work the Problem

 And now Kevin and I are both sick with a cold.  You know, because why not?  Why not add more nonsense to this time of our lives.

We are masking up and trying to stay away the best we can.  This is not the time to not spend time with people so we're adapting.  And, as my dark heart pointed out to Kevin yesterday "What's the worse thing that is going to happen?"  because it's already happening.

Now, where are we in this adventure?  Sigh.  

The father-in-law is home now, with the siblings and his wife.  He looks and sounds really good and when I spoke to him a little while ago he said he was going to go take a nap.  This is unusual and a really good boundary for him to have.  

The mother is a little weaker every day and each hour is different than the others.  Sometimes she's coherent and sometimes not so much.  She sleeps about 80% of the day.  In fact, after her husband arrived home, they visited for a few minutes then she said she was going to sleep a while.  

The hospice folks said that there is a measurement for this whole thing.  It is:

If they weaken by the DAY, it will be days-weeks until their demise.

If they weaken by the WEEK, it will be weeks-months.

We are at the Day part.  She went from being able to shuffle to the bathroom on her own to not being able to lift her legs or chair transfer in four days.  The transition was quick and abrupt.  It's as if she just leaned into it all of a sudden.

My prediction is that now her husband is home and she has seen most of the family, it will be days.  She's surprised us before and we'll see. 

Everyone is in Combat Mode right now.  We're working the problems out as they arise, we are adapting everything we can think of and we're trying to look at what the future is going to be. I think it will hit Kevin and I after this whole thing is over, I think we're both too busy to process everything.

Now that's not to say he didn't cry when the neighbor offered condolences in the middle of the driveway or that I didn't get teary dropping her meds off at the pharmacy for disposal.  We're not robots.

The hospice people have been incredible.  It's like calling in the National Guard.  They walk in, assess the situation, get to work and provide tools and support for everyone around them.  It's a relief.  The validation is also a relief; a sense of "Okay, we're not being melodramatic, This is happening."

We are working on getting help with respite care and nursing care with the state but that process takes so ridiculously long that she may be passed before anything happens.  This then brings me to the "Cringey yelling at the person who was rude to me about the person who was rude to me" story.

Because there's always a story.

The past eight days have been full of phone calls, appointments, more phone calls, forms, faxes, more appointments, document signings.  It feels relentless, at first.  Add having to close the parents house because no one is returning to it any time soon AND going through their paperwork to make sure we have everything, bills are paid, and nothing is missed.

The other day - because they're ALL "the other day" anymore - we had just gone to see my f-i-l at the care facility, met with the social worker, and had papers signed.  Afterward, we stopped at the grocery store to pick up meds for the m-i-l, buy flowers to give her from the f-i-l, and get lunch/dinner for us.

And my phone rings.  It's a number I don't know, which in normal world means I won't answer it.  But in this new world, I have to.  In the middle of a grocery store.  

The woman has a sharp voice/tone.  Immediately I'm on edge because See All of The Above.  She states who she is and why she is calling.  She is the case manager for the state to set-up in-home care.  She says that she can see the family on....Wednesday....the 22nd.

I actually laughed a little and said "Well, we'll see. She might be gone by then and this will be for nothing."  She didn't see the humor it as she wasn't supposed to.  I reiterated that she is in hospice and time is of the essence, the family is exhausted and in over our heads, and just GAH.

She "reminds" me that this appointment is "just" the qualification process and they screen for two things: functional and financial.  I mentioned that as she is in HOSPICE it feels like she qualifies. 

"*I* am the one who makes that determination." she retorts. (I don't think I have ever used that word but it fits well here)

I took a breath, counted to three, and said "If someone who is in hospice and on their way OUT doesn't qualify then WHO DOES."  She took this defensively and started to go through her elevator speech.

I cut her off and said "Okay, so the 22nd and maybe she'll be alive still." 

This left her annoyed - stand in line, lady - and she told me that as she had called me, her number is now on my phone and to "Save it so you have it."  All in a tone that was reminiscent of my mother when she is in queen-mode.  

We hung up.  I explained to Kevin what had just happened and he was annoyed as well. I told him that I'm certain I wasn't at my best and I'm tired and overwhelmed but DAMN, she was rude. I set it aside and moved on to the next 1,000 tasks on the list.

The next morning, the conversation still was bothering me.  This is my measurement of whether or not I want to do something about it.  I did.

I phoned the main office, was transferred to another office then had to leave a voicemail.  I was in the process of emailing the people who were helping walk us through this when my phone rang.

I answered and she explained that she was returning my call and that I had concerns. I explained - probably in one long breath - what had happened during the phone call, what had transpired to put us in the situation, and what my expectations were going forward.

And she says "Okay, well, I am the person you spoke to yesterday."

Oh.

My.

Gawd.

I actually laughed and replied "Okay, well, GOOD. We are on the same page then." To her credit, she took it on the chin.  She apologized, she regulated her tone.  She admitted it was late in the day and probably neither of us at our best.  

And she's still not coming until the 22nd.  If there is a cancellation, she will make arrangements for earlier but we're just waiting.  In the meanwhile, she sent an application packet that is so extensive.  It would be intimidating if I were completing it for ME, let alone for the parents.  I don't know how people who don't have a Me, if you will, can manage these things.

So, now we wait. It feels like we have addressed everything that we can.  Family and friends have come to visit for their final goodbyes.  The f-i-l is home.  There's nothing to do but wait.  Kevin went to work, knowing that he's going to get the call to come home.  I'm trying to work between phone calls, texts, and document requests.

Then there's the leak in the kitchen of the parents house.  Because of course there is.