Temptation

Good news!  My mother has a plan for aging at home.  

Me. 

We met with the staff at the Four Seasons Rehab Center yesterday afternoon.  My mother has made a determined comeback, apparently.  They said she could go home depending on when I wanted her.  What could I say?  She wants to go home.  

"I tell her we all want to live in our own homes, but it doesn't seem to resonate."

And so, by the end of the week, I will be back to caretaking.  There is a lot to be done.  She called her hillbilly niece who said she could leave to come down on Saturday.  Sounds good, right?  People think that will make it easy.  

"You should take a trip, go somewhere.  Take advantage."

Really?  Her regimen of meds is complicated, and I wouldn't trust it to my mother's niece.  I will prepare them with labels for days at a time in a big, plastic pillbox I bought for the occasion.  I will need to pick up her meds and take her to the numerous doc appointments that now must be rescheduled.  My mother's niece is not going to do a 20 hour shift the way I did, so I will need to go sit with my mother every day to give my mother's niece a break.  

I will, for a few weeks, get to sleep in my own bed, though.  After that, I move back in.  

I asked about getting some help for my mother's care.  It is all out-of-pocket, I was told.  I argued, not vociferously, of course, but in a well-reasoned manner.  Unexpected, I guess, for then the social director recanted.  There are ways, but not really.  She will set up a meeting with some Medicare people for me, she said.  

And so it goes.  

I had an inquiry about these pics.  I don't have nudes of my mother, so I just posted these as a suggestion that she was not always 94 years old.  My mother was a real hottie in her youth and even longer.  She was the sexual fantasy of the neighborhood boys, I am sure.  I had my own about one of the mothers down the street.  I shouldn't say "sexual."  They weren't about me humping Mrs. Jones.  It was way more nefarious than that, more of a visual, sensual thing, I am certain, where she sits in her underwear smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee and is nice to me.  Who can remember?  But when I was a kid, we didn't see pictures of naked women except on calendars at the auto repair places.  

I guess these images rather reflect all of that.  

I can, though, remember the smell of the breath of those coffee drinking, cigarette smoking women.  But they always wore perfume. 

So. . . I am enjoying my days and evenings at home.  Last night, I hazarded a Negroni on the deck after getting the rehab news.  Wasn't sure how my diverticulosis gut would react, but my nervous system reacted as it should.  Maybe even better.  I ate a safe dinner of rice, steamed brocolli florets and garbanzo beans, with scrambled eggs all mixed together in a bowl.  I watched something on t.v. as I awaited the Trump Bowl later on.  Around 8:30, I think, I fell asleep.  When I woke up, it was 10:30.  I went to bed, but of course, I couldn't fall back to sleep.  At midnight, I gave up and took a sleep aid.  

I didn't wake up until 8:30.  Hence the late posting.  

I read about the State of the Trumpian Nation this morning.  My god, I'm glad I didn't sit through that.  No information there, just outrage.  

Today I must get busy.  I've been both lazy and sick and then even more lazy.  I've babied myself.  I haven't even gone to the gym in almost a week.  Don't know if I will go today.  There is much work to be done, and I'm the only one to do it.  This lazy streak must end.