No Jacket Required / Phil Collins
G. went to her granddaughter’s second birthday party and Mother gave her the silent treatment for a couple of weeks. I did notice that other things did shift after that, though. It seemed to me that Mother was a little less forthcoming to G. and there started to be inconsistencies in what she’d tell her. These were not new to me, but felt new to G. It seemed to bother her a little and as a result, she and I spent more time on the phone. Likewise, again, G. and my relationship shifted slightly, becoming more relaxed. I felt a little more comfortable being direct.
By true spring, we had entered into a holding pattern. Daily I would talk to Mother and then to G. or vice versa. Some times it was wearing after working all day, still in the job that I hated and was desperately trying to get out of. On the other hand, at least it provided a bit of a distraction.
By the beginning of summer, Mother gave lip service to the idea that she was not going to easily be able to go home. However, she was still dogmatically refusing to talk about closing the office. Some times she’d tell me she was “working on it,” though never what that meant. Other times she tell me she couldn’t as it was the only thing to make money. Of course, the fact that it was only costing money for these past months as she remained hospitalized didn’t seem to matter.
Eventually she decided to go into a ‘long term care’ facility. It was never really clear to me if this was a true Hospice unit, a nursing home, or what. What I did know was that the facilities director was another “friend” of sorts.
I had met L. on several occasions. She was a short, plump, vivacious woman whom I associated with her two noisy young children. By that point her children were probably almost grown, but the association was still there. L. was the wife of our family physician, S.
Initially, I had adored S. as a doctor. Out of professional courtesy he always saw me and mine at a moments notice and never charged a fee. This would, of course, give me shell shock later when I grew up, moved away and dealt with the real world issues of health care. But growing up, he was magical and I trusted him implicitly.
I had never had good experiences with doctors, so that I had come to trust S. was impressive. I had almost even started believing in preventive health care as opposed to emergency triage only. Until he was arrested by the DEA for drug abuse.
My understanding is that Mother and L. got close during that whole “mess.” After his arrest, S. was sentenced to a “treatment” facility several states away, leaving L with their three small children and no income. While S. “recovered” playing golf, L fell apart, pulled herself together and found a job. Ultimately, that job was running this long term care facility that Mother would agree to move to.
L. called me when Mother was going to be transferred. We had a nice conversation in which she assured me Mother would receive the best of care. I thought that was very nice of her, but I was not concerned. It was L’s facility and I had confidence in her, I knew that she thought highly of Mother. The fact that she had taken the initiative to call me herself, I also thought bode well.
When Mother was transferred to this new location it was a mixed blessing. The facility was 30 miles closer than University Hospital and Mother was a lot happier, but it was also more “homey” and the expectations of me grew. Based on some of the responses I got, I’m sure this was also being fed by Mother’s stories about her inconsiderate, uncaring and abusive daughter.
I found myself initially explaining to staff that I couldn’t come daily, I worked, 200 miles away. A fact they seemed confused by. I couldn’t easily bring things from Mother’s house, as that would add two hours to an already long trip. It seemed to me, there were staff who liked me and staff who hated me, but I didn’t know why I was getting either response.
I tried talking to G. about it, but she got uncomfortable. Still, in this context she confessed, “You know, back when your Mother left our Hospital, I have heard from some nurse friends that they felt bad for you. They said your mother had treated you very badly … I’m sorry, I didn’t believe them at the time.”
I suspected the subtext of this was that G. had also at least suspected that Mother had told at least some staff members unnice things. I didn’t particularly care. Mother seemed happy enough, she was getting what seemed like good care and I still had faith that regardless of anyone’s opinion of me, L. would see to it that Mother was fine. I guess I also believed at that point that L. held some respect for me, too.
No comments:
Post a Comment