I went shopping after my dentist appointment.  Macy’s was across the street so I sauntered over to stay out of the heat.  I rarely go downtown so since I was there I thought I should see if they had anything I needed on sale. 

I get home from work kinda late, in clothes that I want to take off.  I’m suddenly interested in loungewear I guess you call it.  Stuff you don’t really sleep in but nothing you’d wear in public.  But you could water, say, in what I got.  They are drawstring pajama-style bottoms made out of nice material in a pattern you’d use to make a summer dress.  And then I found a short-sleeved cotton shirt to match on the sale rack that said 75% off. 

I was pawing through the next sale rack when something caught my eye.  It was hanging up on the wall and it was black and shimmery.  It wasn’t a slip and it wasn’t anything you’d sleep in.  I would call it a negligee, though I could imagine wearing it outside the bedroom if my intention were to end up there.  And that’s the point.  I bought it to put the intention out there.  Come and get it.

I’m concerned.  The person whose job I’m going to take is getting suspicious.  I’m only replacing him for night school.  He’s still going to be teaching days but the fact that he doesn’t believe I am just there filling in is becoming more apparent.  My teacher has put me in an awkward position.

I went to school with this guy.  He sat behind me and I never liked him so it’s easy for me to give him half-truths when he asks me what I’m doing there.  But I foresee trouble ahead.  J. is looking to retire and I think she would like me to take her place with the administrative stuff but I don’t want to be in a position to have to deal with this guy down the road.

On a happier note, I did great, reading tonight.  The night moved along quicker, and I enjoyed it more.  It’s the perfect sized classroom with just seven students.  Everyone seems comfortable with each other but I would like to create more of a group mentality.  Not quite sure how to do that in this low speed where they haven’t been together that long.

It was supposed to be 105 here today.  I was at the hospital and then AT WORK so I don’t know if it really got that hot.  Each time I find myself saying ”at work” I get all happy inside.  I’m having a terrible time keeping my ego at bay.  One of the staff at the hospital seemed surprised and impressed that I used to do that kind of work.  Maybe because it is so far removed from what I’ve done at the hospital.  She used to read my monthly column and was always kind.  Anyway, she got me all puffed up on my way *to work*.  I just read this last paragraph.  Jeez, I had no idea how badly I needed a job. 

Petition for guardianship/conservatorship filed:  check

The Romanians agreed to take Lois, even after meeting her:  check

Her doctor handed over the letter we needed saying she was incapacitated:  check

Plus, she qualified for Hospice, which means free hospital bed, 24hr RN on call, etc; all free:  check

We got her moved into her new Foster Care Home and she LOVES it:  Praise God and triple check. 

We are an awesome team and you know I don’t often use that but, really, we are.

Oh, and I got a job.

Never good to post when you’ve been drinking; dirty laundry and all.

Today was more eventful than I anticipated.  My brother and I met with our new lawyer at 8 a.m. to sign the papers so my mother can be served notice that we are taking over her personal and financial affairs. 

What I didn’t anticipate was the fighting that took place later at my house.  S wanted to have a dinner meeting and so everyone showed up around six.  My brother made cosmos but Robi… drank straight Vodka.  S and R got into it over R “needling” Lois about her significant other or, rather, lack thereof. 

I agree it was mean-spirited but then Robi… has more recent issues with Lois, as she lived there this last year and endured all kinds of abuse.  But, hey, she chose to live there, knowingly taking it on.

Robi… had too much to drink and laid into S.  S got all in her face so Robi… stomped out to smoke on the front porch.  It’s such an about-face that this Baptist zealot has taken up drinking and smoking.  She came back from Germany a drunk. 

I went out to try and smooth things over but she told me to shut up and go back in the house.  I came back in the kitchen pretty upset, and S said she’d had just about enough.  She said she was going back over to Lois’s house to get her glasses which she’d left behind and that Robi…better be gone when she got back.  She wasn’t. 

I got there first but when my youngest sister, S, showed up I gave her the chair and I took the bed.  My mother was in the wheelchair with her back to us.  When I plopped down on the bed it seemed to give way with a sound like it was breaking.  We all laughed.

My mother was gazing out the window, intently surveying the parking lot.  It was noon and the news was on.  All kinds of interesting things like videos of a bank robbery that only took 1:49 minutes and a motorcyclist who crashed going 80 and just up and walked away from the scene, she ignored.  Even lunch, which she refused, was of interest because of the peach cobbler but she never averted her eyes from the window more than a few seconds, keeping her chair at odds with the rest of the room.

“Tell S. about your good news,” she says.

“Remember that woman from court reporting school that we ran into that day at lunch?  Well, she called me yesterday and wants me to go to work for the school, teaching theory.”

“Would you even remember that stuff?” S. sounds dubious at the idea of me working.

“I never threw any of it away.  I even kept my machine.”

My mother interjects something we don’t understand, something about when the tutor threw me on the bed.  I look at S and she doesn’t get it either.

“When did someone throw me?”

“When the bed made that plunking sound.”

“This bed?”  I try not to sound incredulous.

“Yes,” like what other bed would we be talking about.

“Well, who was the tutor?”

“The woman you were just telling S about.”

“Hmmmm,” S says in the tone she uses when stuff is just too weird to comment on.

When lunch came she took one look and said, “I don’t eat rice.”

“That’s chicken parmesan, but it does sort of look like rice,” I offered.

“And there’s spaghetti.  Well, spaghetti sauce over noodles.  You like spaghetti don’t you?”

“On increasingly infrequent occasions.”

No lunch for Lois.

I went back for lunch and was greeted with,     “Did you remember that Robi… was born in 1950?”

“I sure did,” I chirped.  My recorder group had urged me to just play along; that the quibbling wasn’t going to serve any purpose, and the agitation could make her worse.

She was trying to run down the list of four names but because she was starting with the wrong one it was throwing her off.  It was then that I noticed blood on her top, front teeth.  I put my glasses on and went over to get a closer look.

She was sitting on the bed and I leaned in and lifted her lip.  She started to recoil but didn’t.  When she was still hooked up to the heart moniter in the hospital and I would get up off my chair to approach her you could see her heart begin to race. 

“There’s blood on your teeth.”

“No, there’s not.”

I went over to wash my hands and took her back a Kleenex.

“Blot you teeth and you’ll see it.”

Instead she started fumbling with the wheelchair.  Back and forth she inched, trying to get around the untouched lunch on her tray.

“Where are you going?”

“To the mirror.” 

She is fascinated with herself, as am I.  She used the hairbrush first but then picked up the toothbrush and held it up like she was going to use it on her bangs again.  Instead she brushed her teeth.  That’s when she noticed the blood.  She got her own Kleenex and sure enough:  blood. 

Pretty soon Rose came in.  She’s the administrater.

She sat down on Lois’s bed and said, “I am concerned about the clotting level of your blood.  We will need to take you off of Cumadin (blood thinner) and you should not participate in physical therapy the next few days until we can get this under control.  If you were to bump anything or fall you could have internal bleeding.” 

“Does that mean I don’t get to catch the yellow ball?”  Lois makes a noise and gesture like she’s throwing it back.

“I catch it each and every time.”

“No,” Rose says.  “We need to be careful with you for a while.”

With that Lois sticks out her tongue at Rose.

You’re supposed to order lunch in the morning but no one was at the desk.  I went back to her room and she was actually eating some of the breakfast on her tray.  The aid came in and my mother introduced me as a friend of the family.

I gave the aid a nervous look and explained I was a daughter.  I’m just going to start calling her Lois and hope that no family member finds me.  Anyway, Lois thinks about it for a moment and says, “Oh, yes, she’s my number three child.”

I correct her, after another alarmed look at the aid.

“No, I’m your firstborn.  Remember …..” –I go through the list, in order, using nicknames.

“Well, if you are trying to eliminate your sister who spent all that time in Germany…”

“I’m not trying to eliminate her, I’m just saying I was born in 1950.  When was she born?”

More confusion. 

She’s pissed now so I say I need to go play recorder and I’ll be back for lunch.

“Suit yourself,” she quips.

My brother and I went for coffee before heading up at 9:00 to see what state my mother was in.  We figured she was still alive because the place hadn’t called.  She was up and dressed in a royal blue lounging outfit, watching TV in her wheelchair. 

We both breathed a sigh of relief, seeing she’d rallied once again.

“Did you have breakfast yet?” I asked.

She looked amused so I said, “What’s so funny?”

“Well, it’s 9:30,” she smirked.

I said again, “So did you eat?”

She said in an exasperated tone, “Why would I want breakfast at this hour?”

She caught me exchanging a look with my brother. 

“Mom, it’s morning,” he said.

She couldn’t believe it.  “Well, I don’t seem to know up from down,” she remarked, staring out the window.

I had to excuse myself to use the restroom.