Tomorrow Is Another Day

I'm a coward. A practical, efficient coward, but still a coward. I postponed Mother's trip to Tulsa. I have no idea what a visit from her should entail at this point. There are no beds in the places I like; which we probably can't afford any way. So I'm going to keep looking for a home for her, revisiting places I saw in June and trying to determine what to do. Because clearly I have no idea. Maybe tomorrow I will make a decision.

Panicking

My cousin just called. She's willing to give up tons of frequent flier miles to fly Mother from Birmingham to Tulsa for the visit that will help me determine where she can live.

But now that I've thought about it, I think the real deal is just...to find a place that's nice that she can afford to die in. Is this an unnecessary expense and effort? But I promised Mother she could come. But I've focused more on getting my family back in order than on finding another nursing home here. So I don't know what the hell to do. If she comes here, does that mean I have to drive her back? With the baby? May as well, I guess? What.the.hell.am.i.doing???!!!

More importantly, they'll leave Birmingham at 7:45 a.m. Through Love Field. Tulsa at 1:15. Then Julia, our cousin, will get back on the 2:10 to Birmingham. Mother - with her one-way ticket - will be in Tulsa. Indefinitely. What's my game plan? What's the purpose? What's my goal?

I can't handle this. I'm scared shitless.

There's no where for her to go but back to Birmingham, at this point. I guess she needs to see what I'm dealing with here. For at least another year, maybe longer, she'll be aware of what she's doing and where she is. I want it to be a nice year for her. I want the facility to be nice and have good programs.

oh, fuck it. just got off a very annoying phone call. no one wants to hear what i have to say right now!!!

25 Good Whizzes

So I'm off to see one more nursing home. Every time I go see one, it costs me $40 in babysitting and about one year off the end of my life. My stomach hurts, my palms sweat, I have to press the bones under my eyes to keep from crying. That last trick only works sometimes. Usually I have to adjourn to the marketing/sales office to make use of their copious boxes of kleenex. Believe me, I'm not the first overwrought crybaby to enter their portals.

Until today. Today, I toured a mid-range assisted living facility named Ambassador Manor here in Tulsa. Today, I met a 101 year-old man named George who liked to growl at the top of his voice. And cross his arms and rock somewhat violently back and forth. And fuss over his non-eaten chocolate chip cookie while his table mate complained that the wait staff hadn't removed his finished meal fast enough, even though "he'd been sitting there half an hour." But George. That rascal. When he caught sight of the Marketing Director he really gave him a piece of his mind.

"25. 25 good ones."

"Hey, George, how are you doing today?"

"I've had 25 good ones today."

"25 is a lot, George, that's just great," I piped in. I like to make connections with 101 year-olds. Actually, I'm not sure I've ever met a 101 year-old before.

"That's great, George. Congratulations."

"Yep. I've had 25 good whizzes today."

The Marketing Director and I looked at each other in stunned disbelief and promptly burst into laughter. I had to turn away. But George wasn't finished. With a rascally gleam in his eye, because he'd FINALLY gotten back at his nemesis-of-the-moment, he delivered his final threat:

"25 good whizzes, and they're all going to be on you."

A Stunner

Well. In mid-May I received terrible financial news. I learned that Mother's investments were set up in such a way that the economic downturn hit her quite hard. I learned that the "backup plan" one of her advisers had created was ... for my husband to write any manner of check necessary to sustain her standard of living if, when?, she runs out of money.

Now my husband is an amazing person, who supports me in every way and would "do the right thing," as the adviser said. But no one should EXPECT that from someone else's husband. Someone unrelated to the sick person being discussed. But I still have to pinch myself when I think of the scenario that unfolded in the glass-walled offices of this successful firm. I sat across from a trusted adviser, who for years had reassured me as to Mother's financial situation. "She has plenty of money," he'd always say, hunching his shoulders and spreading his hands wide, which might sound charmingly Italian if he weren't totally vanilla. "Don't worry about a thing."

So I didn't. I'd check in every few months, ask how things were going. "She did great in the stock market last year. I sold some things, now, so she'll have to pay a pretty sizeable tax bill this year." "Really? Does she have enough cash to cover that?" "Don't worry, she made a killing on a bank merger." "OH! Well, that's great." "Yes, yes it is."

It did not occur to me to wonder why an over-65 year-old divorced church-working woman who'd suffered 5 years already with early-onset Alzheimer's Disease should be invested in stocks. No, it did not.

And in the financial adviser's defense, he probably invested in all the same things, too.

So in May, realizing Mother's drug trial is not making her better, that she's getting worse and worse, I sit the adviser down for a come-to-Jesus meeting. I needed answers, dammit. Facts. I needed to know what we could actually count on. "Plenty of money" wasn't going to cut it, any more.

"I'm worried about Mother's financial situation. You've always mentioned 'she has plenty of money' and 'don't worry, everything will work out just fine.' So now it's crunch time and I need to know what you mean. What is the backup plan if her money runs out? I understand the nursing home has a 'life care' fund that might cover her expenses when she runs out of money?"

"Well, the life care fund will cover a portion, if the nursing home feels the family is contributing...what it should."

"My sisters and I don't have a lot of money ourselves and paying thousands a month for a nursing home and medications...well, that might be more than our take-home pay altogether!"

"You married a generous person."

"What do you mean?"

"Your husband is the kind of man who always does the right thing."

"What are you talking about?"

"Your husband will take care of what he needs to take care of."

"What does he have to do with anything? What does he need to take care of?"

"He'll take care of the family. He always does the right thing."

"Wait, let me get this right: Are you saying that you think that my husband will write a check for my mother? That if she runs out of money and if my sisters and I can't pay that he will cover the difference?"

"He has a great income and will be able to help pay for your mother."

"My husband is wonderful. And generous. But, how can you assume we don't have a mountain of other debts? From those 16 years of higher education we have between us? Plus our house? And I don't work? That we're not worried about paying our mortgage and for our kids' college tuition?"

"He has plenty of money."

"But, you never know what will happen so we try to be prudent."

"Don't worry, everything will work out just fine."

What I've Always Wanted

This is like a dream. Blogging is cracking me up because I have an insatiable desire to share everything going on in my life with everyone I know. Yet frankly, no one I know actually wants to know all of these things. Ahhhhhh. So now I can create all this content for myself, yet feel like I'm opening my heart. I can expose my thoughts anonymously...until that great book deal comes! Rockin'!

I can't believe I let you sucker me into this.

I have no idea what this post meant. But I guess I could already have that book deal if I'd just kept at it! (All references to non-existent book deals refer to Pioneer Woman.)