Tuesday, July 27, 2010

The Next Place

We tried another place for my Grandma, just because it seemed silly not to consider several options.  We walked into a place where there was a little alcove and a bunch of small cafe tables.  We signed in.  As we walked past, I noticed they had a drink dispenser just like the one the had at the caf at school.  I suddenly felt oddly homesick.  I missed school.  It was an odd thing to remind me of school, I guess, but it did.
We walked down long hallways decorated with green and yellow carpets.  Again, there was a lot of fancy decorating that reminded me of old homes.  We went through a large room that had a cross on the wall.
We came to a receptionist and asked for a tour.  She asked us to fill out a form.  My Mom started, then she was getting a call of her cell phone. 
One of the things I find that I hate about hanging with my Mom is that she is always getting calls from people.  Sometimes they are work related, but their mostly just women who call every day just to talk.  Sometimes I'd like to remind people that my Mom is very busy, and doesn't really have time to just talk.  My Mom passed me the clipboard, and I began to write other things out. 
When it came to my Grandma's conditions, my mind went blank.  I knew what was wrong with her, I could explain it, and yet the names of the conditions were just at the tip of my brain.  I knew that was a sign that I was tired.  I tried to fill it out as best as I could.
When my Mom got off the phone, she looked at my work.  "I wouldn't draw attention to this," she said.  Then she softened.  "But otherwise good job."  I wasn't really interested in what she had to say about it, one way or another.
The Program Director came to see us.  She was young, looking not that much older than me (which made me wonder).  She had long dark brown hair and freckles.  She was wearing a purple blouse with a big chunky necklace.  She took us around.
She reminded us, almost immediately, that they were a Catholic community.  They had mass once a week, as well as rosary once a month and other activities.
She took us into a room to see.  She showed us the bed, that a tv already came with the room.  She asked if my Grandma was on oxygen.  Usually she wasn't, but then my Mom mentioned she might be.
My heart fell a little.  No one had mentioned she was going to go on oxygen, though it made sense.  She had trouble moving, was tired all the time, and was having respiratory problems.  Oxygen made a lot of sense, though I find myself more worried the less she can do for herself.  The director showed us how the room was set up to conceal her oxygen tank in a wall fixture.
Every room was private, and every room came with a full bathroom.  That scared me a little.  My Grandma shouldn't be showering on her own, and she's lazy enough that she doesn't try, but I could see a resident who lacked that to try and shower on their own and then slip and fall. 
The director explained that my Grandma's drugs would generally be in her room, because they didn't like pushing a cart around like in a hospital. 
"Is there anyone on call at night?" my Mom asked. 
"I don't know," she answered.
That didn't sound so good to me either. 

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