QUANDARY

Four to five weeks rehab and physio is what the experts at Laurel Lake Nursing Home recommend. I don't know how I feel. Glory oh glory, Mama lives! Yes, for sure. But. Well. It's hard to get a bead on The Big Picture because the issues change so from day to day that just when you think you've sorted the solution, you have to re-think it all. Last Saturday for instance I was told by a good friend of Peg's that she was "in the car", "on her way" from Ohio, that she had "no commitments until June". Oh thank you God, think I, she is coming, Peg loves her, she will be here, I can get home. Then yesterday evening, which is what I think set me off, I get an email from same saying hm, gosh, should I come while Peg's in rehab or after she gets out and gee I can only stay a week because I have so much going on and...why do people do this?? Say what you mean or don't say it! If you want to help, help, by all means, and I will love you, but please, don't offer and not mean it. Having said that, I'm now wondering how many people I've let down over the years by offering to help but secretly hoping they don't call. But no, I would go, if I've offered. The trick is to learn to shut up I guess.

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STAFF ON CALL:

Bonnie, who efficiently, capably and cheerfully packed Peg up and got her moved over into Laurel Lake. Much better than I could have, especially the cheerfully part. 

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I arranged for Dawn--the former holder of the Bonnie position here but who had to move on a year ago because Peg does not care to be told what to do and decided that labeling and dating plastic containers full of leftovers in the fridge constitutes treason and is a good reason to fire someone-- came here to Odd-sit  for 90 minutes while Wendy and I nipped over October Mountain to the nursing home with: Peg's fixodent; a laundry basket with her name magic markered on the rim; a print-out of the words "FAMILY WILL DO LAUNDRY" for Peg's closet door; the NY Times Review of Books; hangers; a letter from a fan; an email from her grandson; and 3 rhubarb muffins I'd made earlier but could have been cooked about three minutes less.

Peg was sleeping. We woke her and helped her eat some soup. She has a double room but she's got the window bed and all her lovely flowers arranged along it and there's a bird feeder right outside, not that she'll look at it. Turner Movie Classics was on, "Goodbye Mr. Chips". She says she feels fine but her legs hurt. They got her up and walking but she only made it halfway across the room. She told me about the Russian orderly again at BMC who'd cried when she told him she'd read not only "Heart Of A Dog" but "The Master and Margherita" and then we left. Made Dawn stay for a glass of wine when we got back. She said when she'd been in to visit Peg the day before at Berkshire Medical, Peg was naked from the waist down, they'd just left her that way. Dawn got a blanket onto her. Jesus.

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Four to five weeks in rehab. Dear oh dear. Not sure where or how I fit into this. How can I possibly stay here four to five weeks. If I had nothing else to do and no husband or son (or dog), well, yes. Do-able. But I do.  And more than that, although this sounds fairly terrible to say, I don't feel able to cope with my father on my own for that length of time. I'm already getting snappy. "Get the phone! Get the phone!" he cries and I say, "Yes, Daddy, I HEAR THE PHONE. I am standing here NEXT to it.  You can SEE me answering it!"and on and on and on and on and "When is Mama coming home?"every other second.  He's now taken to calling me "Peggy". Why do I get mad at him just because he doesn't understand. The poor man. I get mad at him because I am impatient and intolerant and oh, I don't know, I can't think of words anymore. 

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HIGHLIGHTS:

- Two more Blue Books done, AND the Great Books of the Western World re-packed into two boxes instead of the one no one could move without a forklift, sealed and addressed and ready for Postman Pat.

- Letting Wendy, here to help, make me a ham and cheese sandwich when I still hadn't eaten by 3:30 PM and was feeling distinctly faint, so much so that I had to lie down---and noticing the green mold on the bread before I took a bite. Which she in fact hadn't and I am suggesting a trip to her opticians when she gets back to Vermont.

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10:00 PM. The Caregivers Manual, at least the edition I have, suggests turning my phone off and shutting my door and taking a pill so am off now to do this, oh, and will be putting on the noise machine--Quick Sleep (an App)--- "Rainshower" and "Fountain", top volume,  being my preferred Sounds to Drift Off To although have just spent ten minutes now trying to find the Intensely Irritating In The Extreme "Grasshoppers" and "Cat Purring" windows to turn OFF, having inadvertently tapped them ON while trying to find the exact name of this App for you.