The Cuckoo’s Nest

Today was one of those days.  There was absolutely nothing I could have done to change any aspect of it, either, which made it at least twice as frustrating.  There was only one way to handle today:  by not fighting it. And by ‘it’, I mean those terribly annoying cosmic forces that sometimes seem to come together, all at once, as one, to work against you and make your day go to hell in a hand bag.

Mothah had her second knee replacement on Thursday.  She had to stay in the hospital three nights in order for her insurance to cover her going to a rehab facility.  This rule makes zero sense to me, but when it comes to insurance and the medical profession, to me it just means that someone is making money somewhere.

The surgery was a success, but it was not without pain.  I have never had a knee replacement, so I can only imagine the pain that comes along with having a prosthetic joint placed into your body.  The idea of Mothah going to rehab for a couple of weeks was for her to get intense physical therapy and, since she lives alone, it would just be easier.

By the time the order was made for Mothah to actually go to rehab, and to which rehab, it was after lunch.  I should have known this had the words “clusterfuck” written all over it in giant, red letters….. The hospital refused to allow her to ride with me to the rehab. They had to send her in an ambulance: for safety reasons.  Had they checked my driving record? It’s really not that bad. The ambulance was coming at 4:00pm. Supposedly.   

I took The Baby home and loaded up Mothah’s bags that she had all so carefully marked “Rehab” into the back of my van.  As I was pulling into the rehab facility’s parking lot, I heard a text come in.  After I parked my vehicle, I looked at it.  Dammit.  It was from Mothah.  It said, “Still waiting on the ambulance” and had the little ambulance emoji.  UGH.  Okay.  I sat and checked my email and Facebook.  Then another text came in: Ambulance expected at 6:30.  Holy Mother of God.  Okay. It wasn’t like I could just leave Mothah’s bags at the place and book it for home.   The next text that came in said, “Please see if I can have dinner when I get there”.   That meant I had to get out of my car and go inside. UGH. Okay.  I did.  The nice lady at the front desk called down to the kitchen.  She looked at me and said it would not be a problem, so I texted that back.  I told the lady that the ambulance was delayed.  I walked back out to my car and sat and then decided to go up to this little shopping center.

I had just pulled in and was trying to find a parking space when my phone rang.  It was someone from the rehab.  They wanted me to come back and start filling out Mothah’s paperwork.  I turned around and went back.  Everything was so nice and the people were so nice.  I just knew we had picked the best place for Mothah.   I filled out as much of the paperwork as I could, then the nice man helped me take Mothah’s “Rehab” bags up to her room.  As we exited the elevator, I was shocked at the sounds I heard, and the difference in appearance of the 3rd floor from the 1st floor.  The floor needed to be buffed, badly.  As we walked down the hallway, I saw elderly people who were much older than Mothah, and some of them were yelling out.  I was slightly terrified.  When we got to what would be Mothah’s room, I was somewhat taken aback that she would have a roommate.  I knew Mothah would have requested a private room.

The roommate told me that someone would come start labeling all of Mothah’s belonging’s-that even her socks had to have her name on them.  This was a bit unsettling to me.  I doubted they had any preprinted stick on labels for Mothah’s clothing.  It sounded more like someone was going to come and take a black Sharpie to her things! I texted Mothah that her roommate was very nice…..“What roommate?” she replied.  I just knew she had requested a private room! Then I got a text asking me if there was someone I could go and speak with about her room.  I told her about the labeling issue and that I was scared to leave her bags unsupervised.  I hated telling her that, but I felt that I had to.  I could tell that this was all starting to make her come a bit unglued.  She told me to stay with her bags and to text her the phone number of the place, so I did both of those things.

In the mean time, I found an email for the man who had been so nice and helped me earlier.  I emailed him that Mothah had requested a private room, and since I was brought to this room, I was assuming that there were no private rooms.  I also said that I had asked if Mothah would be able to have dinner when she arrived, and that I would need a microwave.  Her plate had been delivered to her bedside at 5:25 (the time was noted on it).  During the time I was emailing him, Mothah texted me that, Hallelujah, the ambulance had arrived, so I added that the ambulance had just picked Mothah up at 7:19pm, so she would arrive shortly.  Honestly, I did not expect him to answer me quickly, but he did! He told me that he did not know that Mothah wanted a private room, and that could be arranged the next day, and that he, himself, would personally warm her food upon her arrival.

About 20 minutes later, I heard my name being called from way down the hallway.  I jumped up and ran to the door.  Mothah, true to form, was making a grand entrance-even on a stretcher, having made friends with the two female ambulance drivers.  She was waving like Queen Elizabeth.   The nice man who had been helping me as well as corresponding with me via email came right upstairs to get Mothah to complete her paperwork, then the admissions nurse started her routine.  When I felt that it was “safe” for me to leave, at about 9:15pm, I put on my coat and grabbed my bag.  I hugged her and told her I loved her and that I would see her the next day. She assured me that she was fine.

I walked out into the hallway and caught a nurse’s eye. “How do I get OUT?” I said.  She pointed me to the elevator.  When I got down to the first floor, there was not a single soul there but me.  I mean nobody.  They had this creepy 70’s elevator music playing (loudly)….I walked to the door, and it would not let me out.  I pushed and it pushed back. I was locked inside.  I was pissed.  I was tired. I was hungry.  I was done, people.

I walked back around the halls one more time. The large portraits of probably benefactors were starting to give me the creeps.  I walked into the cafeteria.  The music was playing loudly in there-surely someone was in there.  It was a wreck.  There was an overturned chair and there were napkins on the floor.  It was very freaky, and I got the hell out of there immediately.  There was nothing left for me to do except go back to the third floor!  I went back up, walked down the hall to Mothah’s room, and walked in.  Her roommate said, “Well, there she is”….Mothah looked up and said, “Sweetie, don’t cry!” I said, I AM NOT GOING TO CRY! I NEED SOMEONE TO TELL ME HOW TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF THIS BUILDING IMMEDIATELY!!!!  Jennifah! (Mothah does not like the F word) Oops. I had not realized I had had been so close to the edge! I apologized.  The admittance nurse gave me a code for the little box that was next to the door. I got the hell out of dodge ASAP.  I swear I felt that if I turned around, I would see the Shining Twins in their blue dresses….. When that door opened to the outside, I practically ran to my car.

At 6:00am this morning, The Middle Child woke me up.  She said that MiMi had been texting her since 3:00am, and we had to get her out of that place.  I looked at my phone.  She had been texting me since then as well, but my sleeping meds had prevented me from hearing the texts.  My uncle called me about 6:15 and was on his way.  Apparently, a man had tried to get some blood from Mothah in the middle of the night, and she refused. She told him that he absolutely could NOT have any of her blood.  He told her that he really needed to take blood. Mothah told him that she would not, undah any circumstances, give him her blood, because she was waiting for her brothah to get there; however, let’s let it be known that the brothah was sound asleep and had no idea that his sistah was waiting on him to jailbreak her.   After much ado, Mothah is now rehabbing at my house and we have everything under control!












3 thoughts on “The Cuckoo’s Nest

    1. She is doing as well as can be expected. She is staying with me, in my split level house, jumping stairs with her walker. The home health nurse is coming 3 times a week. Thank you so much for asking! 😊

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.