Sunday, March 29, 2009

And Oh, Yeah, the Drama

With unexpected speed, one of the nursing homes emailed me and told me they would be glad to admit my mother.

I admit that I cried when I got copies from my mother's trust officer of the cover letters she'd sent with the apps to the nursing homes. The Hearthside, a nursing home in State College, Pennsylvania, replied to me within hours of getting the application. I have no idea of the time frame involved, but everything is rolling along.

When my sister was dying, she was sent to The Hearthside, and via e-mail, I got to meet their social director, Karol. She was so kind and understanding! I met her in person after my sister died, and she was such a loving, vibrant person that I wish I lived near her. (Or better, if she lived near me.) We've kept in touch; when I knew I had to make a decision about Mom, she was the second person I consulted (first was Bernie, of course.)

With the acceptance of Mom's application confirmed, I sent off emails to the bank trust officer, my mother's pastor, and a letter to her physician with my Power of Attorney document enclosed. The pastor emailed me within minutes, reassuring me that I was making the right decision, and that he was vastly relieved to hear the news. The trust officer also concurred, and was pleased with The Hearthside's response time.

I cried some more.

What is left of my mother's body is a skeleton covered by veins and skin; there is no light of "Tere" in her eyes at all. Her spirit is blocked from its normal perception by the plaques in her brain, and all that works well is her fury, which spurs her gaunt frame to anger and a fight-response.

She never really understood me, but I miss the times we connected with humor or determination, and I felt that she was one of the most amazing people I had ever met.

All is done now, until the paperwork is finished. And then what?

I don't even really want to think about it.

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