The only thing good about last weekend was that I missed most of the Bama-Texas game.
Saturday mornings are when I visit my Mom at her assisted living/memory care facility. I was almost out the door when I got a call that she passed out during breakfast, could not be revived, and that an ambulance was taking her to the hospital. Now, the first time this happened I feared the worst. But, as this has become somewhat routine, I was more annoyed that fearful. My Mom does not drink water or much of any other beverage. Why? Because she's stubborn-stupid and someone at some point suggested that drinking water would be a good idea. So, long ago she chose dehydration instead. And now that she has dementia, choosing dehydration and other stupid things is hard-wired into her personality.
So, I drove to the hospital Saturday morning. It was very crowded. Patients were waiting for vacant rooms. Mom finally woke up after being given a liter of fluids via IV. They ran every test and were waiting for the results to come back. The bonus for Mom about getting sent to the hospital is that she gets to play up the drama about being in the hospital. Even though this is all self-inflicted, she gets to play the victim and pander for attention.
The doctor came back after the test results were in. Dehydration. He scolded her about not drinking water. She argued with him that she didn't like or need water. The doctor (and then the nurse) gave up dealing with her after trying to reason with her for 30 minutes.
I missed most of the debate because at that time I got a call from my sister. She let me know that she has stage 3 breast cancer and has started chemo. She lives near Pensacola, and I told her that I would be there the next day.
I checked Mom out of the hospital and drove her back to assisted living. It was late in the afternoon. Once I got Mom back to her room, I tried to have a little heart-to-heart with her about her behavior. I know she will forget the conversation within minutes and revert back to form, but in the "now" I wanted to see if she could be reasonable.
Me: All living beings need water. When you don't drink water, you get dehydrated. And then you pass out. And you cause the staff a lot of grief when they try to revive you. And they are distracted from tending to other residents who may need more legitimate attention. And you take up the time of the paramedics and the hospital staff. And you use a hospital room that a legitimately sick person could use. And I will be sent the bill for the leftover costs. So, will you please acknowledge that all of this is avoidable if you just drink some water?
Mom: But, I don't like water.
Me. (Sigh) Yeah, that has long been established. It's not about liking water; you need water. Or you can cause that domino effect of waste and stupidity that I just got dragged into ... again. Are you ok with causing all these problems? Or would drinking a glass of water be better?
Mom: I don't like water.
Me: Good visit, Mom. I'll see you later.
It's early evening. I got home and started packing for my trip to my sister's the next morning. My daughter rushes into my room to let me know that she just found three baby mice in our garage. The local was closed. I told Lily if we could keep them alive, I would take the mice to the vet the next morning. Lily did some quick research on baby mouse care. She found a small box. She went to our neighbor and got some infant formula. She filled a sock up with rice and mircowaved it. This would be the bed to keep the mice warm. She used a wash cloth to cover the mice. The mice would need to be feed every hour or so and the rice-filled sock would need to be warmed up periodically. While this was going on I checked the garage. It is not cluttered; everything is on a high shelf or on assorted wall hooks. There's not much on the floor, and there's no food or water stored in the garage. Finding baby mice there didn't make a lot of sense. I found no evidence of a nest or anything else mouse-related. 🤷â€Â♂ï¸Â) Anyway, Lily was prepared to stay up all night until the vet opened the next morning.
However, Lily had her ACT test the next morning. I told her to go to bed early and I would be on mouse-duty overnight. Unfortunately, two of the three mice didn't make it. I fed them and kept them warm. Maybe I didn't do something right. Maybe they were injured and weren't going to survive no matter what was done.
The next morning, I didn't tell Lily about this. I convinced her everything was good and to focus on her exam. My wife went with Lily, and then I went to the vet to see if they could do anything. Fortunately, one young lady there has experience rescuing baby mice and squirrels. I offered her money to compensate for her time, knowing she would have many sleepless nights with the feeding requirements. She refused. I left but ordered lunch to be delivered to the vet staff. (I checked in yesterday, and the remaining mouse is doing well. It looks like a survivor.) As far as Lily knows, all three mice are thriving, so don't tell her otherwise.
So, it's late Sunday morning, and I'm several hours behind schedule to head to the Panhandle, about five hours away. The visit with my sister and her two daughters went as well as could be expected under the circumstances. My sister puts on a brave face for my benefit, and her two daughters are being brave and positive for their Mom. And then there's my BIL. All he wants to do is talk about the Bama game. He's a barn fan. I tried to preempt the forthcoming taunting by saying, "I didn't really get a chance to watch much of the game. I had a lot of things pop up. But, any loss is disappointing. Hopefully their poor performance is a one-off. Regardless, there are more important things at hand. I'm not here to talk football. I'm here to visit my sister. Your wife. Who has cancer." Maybe I didn't make myself clear because all my BIL could talk about was the pending downfall of Bama and the ascendancy of the Cult of Hugh Whoremonger. Sigh. I was too tired, stressed, and respectful of my sister to get into it with this clown. I stayed up with my sister until she got tired. Before I went to the hotel, I said I would be over in the morning (Monday) and bring breakfast before the girls went off to school and my BIL went off to work.
Monday morning I visited for a little while but my sister, being exhausted from the chemo, was asleep by mid-morning. I stayed in case my sister needed anything. My BIL worked a half-day and was home for lunch. I decided it was time to go home. My BIL's default setting is "jackass," so I had no inclination to be chatty with him. And, with my sister being so tire, I wanted her to go to sleep as necessary and not be worried about having to stay awake on my account.
Got back home Monday night. Been working extra hours at the office the last couple of days since it's the last month of the fiscal year, and there's still lots of money that needs to be wasted. I'm tired.
So, Bama lost a football game. It's not that big a deal.
Saturday mornings are when I visit my Mom at her assisted living/memory care facility. I was almost out the door when I got a call that she passed out during breakfast, could not be revived, and that an ambulance was taking her to the hospital. Now, the first time this happened I feared the worst. But, as this has become somewhat routine, I was more annoyed that fearful. My Mom does not drink water or much of any other beverage. Why? Because she's stubborn-stupid and someone at some point suggested that drinking water would be a good idea. So, long ago she chose dehydration instead. And now that she has dementia, choosing dehydration and other stupid things is hard-wired into her personality.
So, I drove to the hospital Saturday morning. It was very crowded. Patients were waiting for vacant rooms. Mom finally woke up after being given a liter of fluids via IV. They ran every test and were waiting for the results to come back. The bonus for Mom about getting sent to the hospital is that she gets to play up the drama about being in the hospital. Even though this is all self-inflicted, she gets to play the victim and pander for attention.
The doctor came back after the test results were in. Dehydration. He scolded her about not drinking water. She argued with him that she didn't like or need water. The doctor (and then the nurse) gave up dealing with her after trying to reason with her for 30 minutes.
I missed most of the debate because at that time I got a call from my sister. She let me know that she has stage 3 breast cancer and has started chemo. She lives near Pensacola, and I told her that I would be there the next day.
I checked Mom out of the hospital and drove her back to assisted living. It was late in the afternoon. Once I got Mom back to her room, I tried to have a little heart-to-heart with her about her behavior. I know she will forget the conversation within minutes and revert back to form, but in the "now" I wanted to see if she could be reasonable.
Me: All living beings need water. When you don't drink water, you get dehydrated. And then you pass out. And you cause the staff a lot of grief when they try to revive you. And they are distracted from tending to other residents who may need more legitimate attention. And you take up the time of the paramedics and the hospital staff. And you use a hospital room that a legitimately sick person could use. And I will be sent the bill for the leftover costs. So, will you please acknowledge that all of this is avoidable if you just drink some water?
Mom: But, I don't like water.
Me. (Sigh) Yeah, that has long been established. It's not about liking water; you need water. Or you can cause that domino effect of waste and stupidity that I just got dragged into ... again. Are you ok with causing all these problems? Or would drinking a glass of water be better?
Mom: I don't like water.
Me: Good visit, Mom. I'll see you later.
It's early evening. I got home and started packing for my trip to my sister's the next morning. My daughter rushes into my room to let me know that she just found three baby mice in our garage. The local was closed. I told Lily if we could keep them alive, I would take the mice to the vet the next morning. Lily did some quick research on baby mouse care. She found a small box. She went to our neighbor and got some infant formula. She filled a sock up with rice and mircowaved it. This would be the bed to keep the mice warm. She used a wash cloth to cover the mice. The mice would need to be feed every hour or so and the rice-filled sock would need to be warmed up periodically. While this was going on I checked the garage. It is not cluttered; everything is on a high shelf or on assorted wall hooks. There's not much on the floor, and there's no food or water stored in the garage. Finding baby mice there didn't make a lot of sense. I found no evidence of a nest or anything else mouse-related. 🤷â€Â♂ï¸Â) Anyway, Lily was prepared to stay up all night until the vet opened the next morning.
However, Lily had her ACT test the next morning. I told her to go to bed early and I would be on mouse-duty overnight. Unfortunately, two of the three mice didn't make it. I fed them and kept them warm. Maybe I didn't do something right. Maybe they were injured and weren't going to survive no matter what was done.
The next morning, I didn't tell Lily about this. I convinced her everything was good and to focus on her exam. My wife went with Lily, and then I went to the vet to see if they could do anything. Fortunately, one young lady there has experience rescuing baby mice and squirrels. I offered her money to compensate for her time, knowing she would have many sleepless nights with the feeding requirements. She refused. I left but ordered lunch to be delivered to the vet staff. (I checked in yesterday, and the remaining mouse is doing well. It looks like a survivor.) As far as Lily knows, all three mice are thriving, so don't tell her otherwise.
So, it's late Sunday morning, and I'm several hours behind schedule to head to the Panhandle, about five hours away. The visit with my sister and her two daughters went as well as could be expected under the circumstances. My sister puts on a brave face for my benefit, and her two daughters are being brave and positive for their Mom. And then there's my BIL. All he wants to do is talk about the Bama game. He's a barn fan. I tried to preempt the forthcoming taunting by saying, "I didn't really get a chance to watch much of the game. I had a lot of things pop up. But, any loss is disappointing. Hopefully their poor performance is a one-off. Regardless, there are more important things at hand. I'm not here to talk football. I'm here to visit my sister. Your wife. Who has cancer." Maybe I didn't make myself clear because all my BIL could talk about was the pending downfall of Bama and the ascendancy of the Cult of Hugh Whoremonger. Sigh. I was too tired, stressed, and respectful of my sister to get into it with this clown. I stayed up with my sister until she got tired. Before I went to the hotel, I said I would be over in the morning (Monday) and bring breakfast before the girls went off to school and my BIL went off to work.
Monday morning I visited for a little while but my sister, being exhausted from the chemo, was asleep by mid-morning. I stayed in case my sister needed anything. My BIL worked a half-day and was home for lunch. I decided it was time to go home. My BIL's default setting is "jackass," so I had no inclination to be chatty with him. And, with my sister being so tire, I wanted her to go to sleep as necessary and not be worried about having to stay awake on my account.
Got back home Monday night. Been working extra hours at the office the last couple of days since it's the last month of the fiscal year, and there's still lots of money that needs to be wasted. I'm tired.
So, Bama lost a football game. It's not that big a deal.
