Just Another Day.

I slept some last night.
But I am frazzled, I have hives, and my skin looks like that of a hormonal teenager.
Stress. So much fun.
I called Palm Haven to ask if there was anything else I needed to sign to make it official that my Dad was not coming back...they seemed unsure when I picked him up the day before.
I talked with Christine, who was the first person I dealt with, whom I did all the original paperwork with, who was the one who initially sold me on the place.
She said she and other managers had NO idea what had been happening, or why I took my Dad out. She seemed genuinely mortified when I gave her just a handful of the details of phone calls I received...especially the fact that people kept saying it wasn't the right place for him, that he was being kicked out, etc. Apparently the Nurse who had yelled at me that one night and said he was being kicked out got fired. Apparently there had already been some issues with her tact in the past, and what she said to me was the last straw. I kinda feel bad that she lost her job, but clearly she shouldn't be in this line of work. It's stressful, hard, exhausting...and you HAVE to be able to perform under pressure. She definitely lacked those qualities.
Anyhooo...Christine said she really needed to find out who said what and why...that there is just no excuse for what they did. Unfortunately I was usually in such a sleepy stupor, I rarely caught anyone's name, so I wasn't very helpful there. She, like the Head Nurse (Matt) that I spoke to, said that their nurses are very well trained to deal with people like my Dad and that there should've NEVER been anything said about him being kicked out...that it sounded like the nurses just didn't feel like dealing with it...and she wanted to know which ones those were because they don't want people like that working there. Uh, yeah, I agree...although it's far too late for us, I hope no one else goes through this, it was hell. It's quite enough dealing with everything this disease brings...but when you find all these facilites advertising they care for people with diseases such as this and then they threaten you with being kicked out...well, it's more than most people could deal with.
I feel terrible today. My body hurts and I just feel, I dunno, like a live wire, but too tired to move. It's like an inner trembling.
I hesitate to call my Dad for a few days until he gets somewhat situated. I know they are going to take him off all his meds again to see what they've really got to deal with. But I am afraid that what they're going to see will equal him being medicated into a vegetative state. I know that there is no hope for him now...that he cannot ever have a normal day again, that he will never be anything but confused and paranoid and scared...and that his combative outbursts and even worse behavior during that "sundowning" time will mean he needs to be medicated to the point of being manageable...which basically means being a mindless entity that still resembles my Dad. This is what I have been avoiding, knowing that the time would come soon enough...but I wanted to try to preserve what tiny bits of lucidity he still had left. I know now that he is not manageable in any way anymore without medication...and that not medicating him just for the sake of 5 minutes of clear-headedness is not the right decision. I guess I prolonged it as long as I could, I dunno. Did I?
We're going a flooring place in a little while...we need to get a lot replaced. We already tore up the bedroom carpet...holy stench!...and hubby tore out the bathroom flooring yesterday...it was thoroughly soaked and smelly too. Dad had accidentally flooded the bathroom at least 3 times before we realized just how much assistance he needed in there. What's weird is just HOW much water was underneath. It's a linoleum floor, and our house is 3 years old, and the caulking seal was still intact...so I wonder just how it got that soaked...and it makes me worry that behind the wall is wet as well. That's not good.
Okay, more phone calls to make to get some of Dad's stuff organized.
Groundhogs Day, everyday.