Okay, so....where were we last with the Raising Parents OMG I WANT TO SMOTHER HIM WITH A PILLOW situation....hmmmm...
Let's start where we are right now....
He likes us again. The man wearing Dad's skin suit has retreated and now he's back to Personality #12. It's still underlying and I think it will be until this chapter ends and we'll just have to roll with that. He has spent all of his chances and we've made that very clear - as has the facility.
But, how did we get here you might be wondering. 21 seconds is the answer to that.
But, wait, what? you're also wondering...
21 seconds is the length of the phone call apology that I received. And that's a loose definition of apology but we accept. On average, the calls that we each received were about 25 seconds. We did the math and it was 1.52 minutes total between all of us, with my sister-in-law having the longer conversation. She won that prize because - most unlike her - she called him on his b.s.
So, we all moved on with our lives until last Wednesday. That's when I got a call from the facility at 10 in the morning. I saw the called ID and my stomach sank. It was the social worker and I could hear my f-i-l in the background. Okay...whew? is that what we're feeling? Sure.
They were trying to order lunch and his card kept declining. Yeah.
I logged into his account and saw no fraud alerts or flags so I told them I would have to call the bank to see what was happening, again. In the meanwhile, I ordered his lunch for him with my money and that's whatever.
I phone the bank and discovered that way back when he reported fraud, they CANCELLED his card.
Yeah. Even though the person told me "Everything is turned back on now" and it wasn't because I couldn't log into the online account and she said "Oops, I forgot to click that box" and clicked it and I could.
So, it wasn't clear exactly how that happened but it sounds like because there was a Dementia flag put on the account, it was maybe a corporate level bank decision. OR the person made an error, we will never know. Because it's not that important to me to solve.
But, the reason I have that suspicion is when I went to the actual branch to get him a new card, the manager told me that they would do the process but it's lengthy because we have to file the Power of Attorney OFFICIALLY (and Kevin would have to be there, so no, he's not taking time off of work to solve this issue and I digress...) Because my f-i-l is no longer able to come into the bank and/or able to be consistently coherent.
And even after all of that, the bank corporate office could reject the request because of the situation.
SIGH.
Now I'm annoyed all over again. I told Kevin, he's got to deal with this because See Opening Sentence.
So, he talked to his dad and his dad first said he didn't remember doing that. When Kevin explained in further detail, he said that wasn't his intention and then kind of made excuses like I'm just dumb and old and I was trying to get information...in a way that makes me think he knew what he was doing but didn't realize the consequence. As in, he was trying to get ME off of the account because he was mad.
Also, the bank manager bluntly but kindly asked "Why does he NEED a card? He can't use it where he is, correct?" And I'm all EXACTLY, I KNOW RIGHT but in a more reserved manner. Her suggestion was to give him My Card to snuggle with and at first, we thought that was a viable option. I would just take a photo of my card to do online orders or whatever.
But then Kevin got into his feelings because I was annoyed and frustrated and frankly just sad and overwhelmed. He told his dad that he WAS NOT going to get a new card RIGHT NOW because this was a consequence of his tantrum. (yes, he used the word tantrum) and that when "work slows down and I can TAKE TIME OFF, like Surely HAS HAD TO, TWICE NOW" we will try to get him a new card BUT THAT the bank may still say no.
So now the social worker has a photo copy of the card so they can order whatever they want, under $100. Oh, and he has cash on hand to do whatever as well. And no one is having a straight up good time right now.
The bank manager also made me put the app on my phone under my name and info so that he can't call again and shut everything off, even though he no longer has a card attached to the account. "Made me" like the dementia specialist told me to put a dementia notice on the account to protect myself but like, for real, this time.
AND THEN, they took away paper statements. GASP.
If you recall, memory joke not intended but I'm not mad about it, that was one of his first fits of rage: not being able to get bank statements On Demand. I asked Kevin to just not mention it at all, to anyone, and we'll see if it's even noticed. If he does, then he gets the same statement as above: this is a consequence. (in truth, right now they're just steering away from paper statements. But he could still get them for a while BUT the bank manager said in this circumstance: NO.)
Beyond all of that, he's showing signs of winding down. Twice it took him a beat to realize/remember/recognize who we were. He's not walking much at all. His memory is starting to be on repeat more than before. Mostly, his blood pressure is plummeting to alarming lows more frequently. This is what we were told would most likely be his demise. But then he said: BET.
He has pressure sore on his toe from pushing against the foot board CONSTANTLY. He sits at an awkward angle in the bed and refuses any sort of pillow, bolster, adjustment. He holds himself up, for descriptive purposes, and now there's a pressure sore. But "NO I DON'T!!!" he says, as we're watching him do it.
With his neuropathy, diabetes, and sedentary "lifestyle", they are having difficulties getting it to heal. It's a very real possibility that it infects and/or doesn't heal and eventually: game over.
So, that's just super fun.
But his cardiologist gave him the all-clear today at a checkup. The advocate took him because all four of us said "NOT IT" when the appointment was scheduled. Adding to that, he didn't want us to go anyway because "You don't let me talk" We do, we just don't let him lie to the doctor about what's happening and we don't let him ramble about all.the.things.that.are.wrong.that.we've.talked.about.eleventy-fifty.times.for.the.love.of.gawd.
Sigh, so yeah, everything's fine. Thanks for asking.
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