Back from the Dead.

I didn't realize I hadn't posted since September 22! It's been THAT long? Wow. Anyway, I have basically been sick this whole time. My "vacation sickness" turned into a full-blown flu/cold, bone numbing pain and nausea. Not having insurance right now, I hoped that this was just one of my weirdo thyroid-related flare ups or something related, but I got increasingly more lethargic and then got some awful infection, which I tend to get from time to time with my horrible immune system. Anyhooo...broke down my fears of the cost of a non-insured Dr. visit and went in. Thank god my Dr. office knows and likes me, because I got a fat discount and free anti-biotics from them. I am feeling soooo much better. And I started this new vitamin regime too, so I have no doubt that's helping.
Okay, so onto the latest Lewy news...if I can even catch up to what's happened...?
There wasn't a "ton" to report in October...the harrassment from the VA subsided, and the calls I did get I screened with our re-instated Privacy Manager with AT&T. How did civilized people get on without Privacy Manager? WHAT a Godsend.
I only got about 2 dozen calls (quite a cut-back) from random people about placing my Dad, bank account information, the Conservatorship process, and also questions about whether what that nut/liar Social Worker Laurie Ackerman was saying about us was true...? Oh, and what was she saying, you ask? Only that me and brother want nothing to do with our Dad, how NO ONE has been able to reach me for 3 months.
!!!!
Yeah, all those harrassing phone calls were in my head. My husband and kids saw me crying and screaming on the phone to imaginary people. All the calls I placed to my brother about yet another person calling to "not pass judgement on why I won't take responsibility for my Dad"...yep, I made it ALLLL up. Uh-huh.
So, today...
I get a call from a very nice woman from this place called CEPS. ONE thing the VA did do was contact this place that will be taking care of my Dad's money now...CEPS will be handling the payee part of my Dad's care from now on. She tells me he's being placed on Thursday close-by and tells me the name of the place...Villa...it sounds familiar...oh yeah, that's because it was one of the almost 40 places I got denied from!!! I didn't say anything to her at that time because I wanted to make sure...a lot of places have the word "Villa" in them...maybe I was mistaken...?
Nope.
Called Villa up and the woman, Lourdie (sp?), knew my name when I said I was calling to find out admitting information about my Dad.
Yeeeeeeaaaah....so apparently the already known liar and hood-rat Laurie Ackerman has decided to spread yet more lies. She told Villa that my Dad does NOT have dementia, that he is quite pleasant, and needs little assistance.
?????
Lourdie said that she plainly told Ms. Ackerman that they can't care for someone with anything other than very mild dementia...and hello? My Dad is the Dementia poster boy.
There is NO way I am allowing that scumbag Laurie to lie just to rid of my Dad and place him somewhere who is outwardly admitting they CANNOT care for someone with dementia.
I then called the "head" Psychiatrist, Dr. Fenn, who is now caring for my Dad himself (no Resident Doctors doing it for him). I asked him if they had changed my dad's diagnosis...and of course he responded as anyone should...that I was off my rocker. We ALL know my Dad has dementia.
So Dr. Fenn says that he doesn't want to get "involved" (in whatever is brewing between us and Ms. Whackerman)...but that he JUST can't see how there could be any lying in this situation because when my dad's records are sent over it will state "DEMENTIA" all over it. I told him what Whackerman told Villa about my dad not having dementia and all he could say was "I really just don't know what Ms. Ackerman is saying".
Then I left a message for Whackerman. I told her about my conversation with the Lourdie at Villa, reminded her how she had told me how she can "talk anyone into anything" and that now I know she does it with LIES...that I know she did plenty of lying about me and my brother already...that I hoped she could act with a little more professionalism and try to place my dad somewhere equipped to care for him. I closed with the fact that I know she already has my number, that she can call me back but I won't answer...and that I have nothing to say to her because she's a disgusting, despicable person.
Oh...and as I was typing that last paragraph...Whackerman just called and left a message saying that OF COURSE she told Villa my Dad has Lewy Body dementia and that whomever I spoke to is misinformed. She said that he has NOT been wandering while there and that he had improved quite a bit while in their care. She also said that if for some reason Villa did not work out, that my Dad would be sent right back to the VA and be right back in her care.
LIES!!!
Once they get him out of the VA, they are done with him. I know this for a fact. Why do these people have to lie?
Uh...hmmm....but she is right about one thing: Of course my Dad can't wander at the moment...they have him so drugged that he apparently can't walk AT ALL anymore on his own. Everytime I call him, a Nurse asks me "if I'm someone important" because it takes them a solid 5 minutes to lift him and lead him to the phone. They literally told me that if I wasn't someone "important", they would say he was asleep. Nice, huh?
BUT anyway...the second he is placed in a new facility, he will inevitably be taken off the Haldol since no Nursing Homes I know of approve of that drug...and then he will be back to wandering again.
These people are sacks of spew.
So, Whackerman said that unless IIIIII do something to change things, that she is planning on admitting him to Villa...but that I am MORE than welcome to come pick him up anytime.
This is all just sickening. Every single day I am sick that my dad is at that VA facility. They are obviously heartless bastards over there and all they are doing is keeping him drugged beyond belief. What have I done? He was supposed to go there to get his meds straight, get the conservatorship process going and get placed in a suitable facility. THAT was the plan I made with his Doctor. I was supposed to be free from the "responsibility" of making decisions and onto being able to visit him, care for him...but not kill myself and neglect my own health, children and husband in the process. Instead I've just traded all that for even more assholes to deal with and my Dad STILL isn't getting adequate care. I can't give him adequate care, no facility seems to be able to that either, and the VA is run by monkeys.
Where do I go from here?

Called Daddy yesterday.

He was just as confused as ever. Guess that miracle cure didn't work. Idjits, all of them.
The Nurse that answered the phone call was really quite confused herself...she asked me 3 times if I was asking to talk to my Dad. The way she spoke sounded like she had a gag in her mouth, it was really strange. More and more I feel I get sufficient evidence to prove my theory that the doctors and Nurse's are nipping into the patients drugs.
Once my Dad finally got on the phone, which took quite some time, he was very tearful and thought he was in Los Angeles. He asked me where I was living now. He also said that the Doctor's been telling him that me and brother "are in big trouble". It's stuff like that that makes me wonder if I can believe anything, or even bits, of what my Dad thinks or says...because that last part I would wholly believe if there was no reason for me to question Daddy's words.
Anyway, not much of our conversation took place in reality, and much of it was spent with me repeating myself several times because he couldn't hear me, and then about 10 minutes was used with me trying to tell him mine and brother's phone numbers...he ended up flagging someone down to write it down for him. And they were NOT nice. At one point, Daddy put the phone down and started walking away to ask if one the Nurse's could write my number down for him and I immediately heard her YELL, "HEY! What do you think YOU'RE DOING????". There was no asking nicely...it was zero to screaming in half a second. She wasn't much nicer to me when she was taking down my number either.
Why do these people take these jobs, and how is it that they qualify to be hired or keep them? Is there no one there that sees or hears clearly that supervises?
These things never change. It's just disgusting.
I know first hand just how frustrating it is to care for someone with my Dad's mental status...but these people are supposed to be trained...they purposely sought out this job...and are being paid to do it...then they get to take breaks and get to go home...to get away from the craziness as it should be. They knew what they were applying for when they took the job.
Not a whole lot else to report. I am still making phone calls about funeral pre-arrangements, trying to find EXACTLY what Daddy would want, making sure everything is cemented...which is hard because asking him questions isn't very fruitful most days.
I still don't feel at ease despite the fact that I am clearly getting some respite from Lewy. I don't know if this is just how I am wired...to be a worrier...but I am just not okay with my Dad being where he is and how this all happened. Lately my only real rest (in my head) from this all is to try to pretend I "don't know"...which doesn't really work, but sometimes I get a stretch of time when I don't think about all of this and feel tears start to form. I guess that's something.
I am hoping that nothing happens before Thursday, that is my Alzheimer's group day. The reason I say that is because I feel that I compromise a good 15-20 minutes of every meeting because SO much is always going on. Of course they ask and want to know what is happening...and we are ALL learning from my experience with this stuff for sure...but I need a break from myself and this. Even if there is drama in the next 3 days, I am keeping quiet at the meeting, let someone else talk.
I just laughed out loud at that.
Is that even possible? Ha.

That "vacation"-sickness thing. And ranting.

Have you ever noticed that you can work your butt off and somehow get through all of life's nonsense relatively unscathed...but the second you finally decide that you will take a break or an actual vacation...you get sick? I've read articles about this in the past...it has to do with finally "letting go" and relaxing...and your immune system, being overwrought, is struck with the reality of your exhaustion and you get the first little bug that comes along. I know many people who have complained of getting sick when they finally take a vacation. I am assuming that this is what is happening to me. Not that I am on any vacation...ha!...but now that I am not under seige 24/7 by Lewy and actually have had some peace to have the option of sitting down for 5 seconds...I feel that I am more exhausted and in that "being on the verge of getting sick" than ever before. I feel horrible. I am in that state of 'about to get the flu' every day. Yes, it could be my stupid thyroid nonsense, combined with the weather change, combined with life in general, combined with stress and those harrassing phone calls from the VA combined with, well, everything and the above...but this is ridiculous. I am more tired than ever, how is that possible?

In other news, the phone calls have not stopped. The VA has left message after message about "urgently" needing to talk to me. I ignored them all until a few days ago when that Resident jerk-off Zambrano was leaving a message...and he said something to the effect of "never speaking to me before"...he'd said something like that before and I thought I heard him wrong...but no...he was really saying that he had never spoken to me before. These people are nutty. I've talked to this loon at least 7 times, probably more.
I think when the meds go out to patients it goes something like this: "Okay, Mr. Smith, here's your haldol...soooooo...that's one for you and one for me...and here's your Xanax...that'd be one for you and two for me...".
They are wiggedy-whacked, plain and simple.
This is the majority of the reason why, way back in the stone ages when I was in college... that I dropped my Psych major. After far too many classes with crazy teachers who would bring in their "highly accredited" speakers who were clearly medicated (or needed to be)...I knew there was absolutely no way I could handle having to deal with colleagues who were crazier than the people they were supposed to be treating.
So while that snickers bar Zambrano was saying he'd never spoken to me before, I couldn't help it, I picked up the phone. We got in a heated discussion about how they were harrassing me and Dr. Snickerdoodle thought he'd use his overly animated ego to try to trick me into thinking he knew some big words that I might not know. What transpired was me saying, "Listen, honey" and talking him down to his actual 3 year old mentality. I do not play well with people who have narcisstic personality disorder...people who have themselves SO high on a pedestal...who think that because they attended a few 1/2 hour seminars and had the money to buy a 3000-page medical book (that they never even read)...that they are superior in any way. I know that people like this use their false, "book-smarts" intelligence on the majority of people and get what they want...they are condescending to someone who may not know all the terminology or legal jargon...and trick these unsuspecting people into doing things they don't have to do. This doesn't work with me. I happen to know a few big words myself.
Then there was the call from Ackerman the Social Worker...this time her message was calm and almost pleading, but in a, dare I say...friendly voice?...that she "really, really just needed to speak with someone 'knowledgable' about a few issues they desperately needed to take care of". I'm not buying it. She can be nice (now) and plead and try to stroke my ego all she wants...I'm not biting. All the things she said she absolutely couldn't do are now transpiring...such as how she said they could never get Daddy Medi-Cal...well now they are signing him up...or how they insisted my Dad would never get transferrred to any VA Nursing Homes because his medical state isn't "service related"...but now they are waiting for his bed at one.
Funny how things work out, isn't it?
What really steams me, and I spoke to my friends at the Alzheimer's group about this, is how people like this bully family members until they break...most people will cave under pressure and won't stand up for themselves. I did that to an extent...caving in...I kept on going and going with these issues with my Dad until I was living on fumes...and this is why 30% of caregivers of every age die BEFORE the people they are caring for. Stress and exhaustion are no laughing matter and it is NOT in your head and not something you can pray away or wish away or ignore. This stuff will kill you. And people like the Doctors/Nurses and Social Worker at the VA are the people who will drive you to insanity or death...and they will not bat an eye about it.
People like my Dad DESERVE assistance from the county and state. We shouldn't be being harrassed to the point of not answering our phones because the VA and state will not take responsibility for what they had a part in. I know far too many people who are getting free benefits, food stamps, Medi-Cal, Unemployment and other aid when they do NOT deserve it or are defrauding the system with lies to get it. My Mom and Dad lived on wages just above the state's poverty level my whole life. We had NO medical insurance, and my Dad had limited VA benefits that he had to fight tooth and nail for. We did not get free anything because we looked too white or had $10 dollars too much...but neighbors of ours who made more than my parents who were more ethnic looking got every form of assistance and also had plenty of money to get their nails done every week and carry Gucci bags. Things are still like that. I love it when I am waiting in line at the grocery store when the person in front of me is decked out in runway clothes, has a perfect french manicure, is carrying the latest Kate Spade bag, in high heels, layered with jewelery...and my ice cream is melting because of the 20 extra minutes it takes to scan those damn WIC certificates. Then I go out to the parking lot and see this woman loading her free groceries into her souped-up Denali.
I will not feel bad about expecting my Dad to get HALF of what that lady is clearly getting.
And I could fight for benefits/state assistance if I really wanted to. Though I "look" white, I am actually enough American Indian and Mexican to have gone to college for free. I could get lots of free stuff if I were so inclined to do so. But I am not the type of person who takes hand outs because I was born with a certain heritage. If I was, I would also try to cash in on this "restitution" crap that some people claim they are entitled to because their family members 100 years ago were slaves.
Hmmm, well so were mine. And less than 100 years ago.
My Mom's family were slaves on a farm...they even had to take the last name of the family they worked for. Then the American Indian parts of both sides of my family had their land taken from them. Does that mean I am entitled to restitution? Back pay? To open my own casino? Hardly.
But my Dad deserves to have the state finally pony-up and take care of him. When my Dad served in Korea, he just wanted to hurry up and go home. He didn't make a big deal about the fact that seeing people die haunted him and gave him nightmares. So, because he didn't complain and cry about his experience, his numerous mental ailments were deemed "non-service related" which is far from the truth...so while I am usually not the type of person who expects something for nothing...which isn't really the case here anyway...I think that the VA should do what they should have done years ago. And that is taking responsibility for what my Dad's service did to him. NO ONE gets through military service without harm. No one. And it's time that we all acknowledge that. We all owe our servicemen/women our respect and gratitude...at the very LEAST, they deserve to have life-long, EXCELLENT medical benefits, if not medical benefits for their entire family to boot. Taking my Dad to the VA as many times as I have, I have seen barely 20-year old BOYS with missing limbs trying to get medicine and given a hard time about it because their VA benefits don't cover it. And I've seen some of these young men with pregnant wives or small children...I've heard them talking and was horrified. Some of these BOYS...who went off to war and left families behind...are now back and will probably never work again due to their injuries (missing arms, legs, head injuries)...and they receive very little monetary compensation AND they don't make enough to carry medical insurance for their families BUT most of them are too white or own a car that is worth more than $2200, so they CANNOT get Medi-Cal or any other state funded assistance. That is so far beyond bullshit. Most of these guys are coming home with serious injuries and many are coming home with head injuries so severe that there is no room for them in VA hospitals...so they are sent to the Geriatric Psych units...because the injuries they sustained have made their mental states as bad as somone with a dementia or schizophrenia. And yet they do not deserve full and complete medical benefits for life?
My God.
If you kill someone on the street just for the hell of it, you would be sent to prison (maybe) where you would get 3 complete, nutritionally balanced meals per day AND free, state of the art medical care.
But if you serve your country or work for a living and pay into taxes that are filtered into state funded "aid" to people who "need" it...and someday YOU need some sort of assistance? HA! Good luck because the state is too busy fumbling the budget deficit for all the people already getting those benefits who are here illegally, or are okay with defrauding and lying to get it. I can honestly say I do not know ONE person who is receiving any kind or type of county/state/government aid that is doing it legally, or who is even a citizen here. And the people I've known who are getting their "free" (at the low, low cost of their physical and mental health and stress on their families) VA benefits are given such a hard time about it that most of them do not even bother going unless it is a dire necessity.
And so this is why I am not budging. I refuse. Realistically, my Dad's life will be over in the next couple of years if not much sooner. The VA and state is getting off pretty cheap if you ask me. It's long overdue that they compensate my Dad for what he did for them. For us.
Off my soapbox now.

Re-entering the real world.

I have not posted because I have been attemtping to re-enter the real world, sans Lewy.
This, I now know, is impossible, but I tried it.
What really happened was...while I was trying to get back to doing "normal", healthy things, like playing with my kids and running errands without deadlines or fear of screaming Lewy looming over my sweating head...I kept getting tag-teamed by the VA. Oh my.
There were Doctors and many, many nurses calling me...even the Social Worker there was in on it. For example, last Friday I was called 7 times within an hour by 3 people. I assume they planned it that way...they are trying to break me down, play with my emotions, play on my overly stimulated sense of guilt...to get me to come pick up my Dad and bring him home.
It started off with Nurse Nancy...who called me on her personal cell to, I kid you not, tell me that my Dad was "all better now"....they had CURED him...he was "as right as rain" and "as clear as a bell". HER words.
She said, with my Dad standing right next to her, that he was "just so sad that IIIII refused to come pick him up because there is just NOTHING WRONG with him anymore...he's ready for US to take him home"!!!!!!!!!!! Can you BELIEVE THAT?
I told her that if, indeed, they had found a magic pill or cure...that we'd better inform the media right away since millions of people will want this CURE for dementia they apparently have. It was unfreakinbelievable, the things this woman said. I said it was pretty unbelievable that she felt it was appropriate to say things like this to my Dad, and in front of my Dad.
The resident Doctor Zambrano also tagged me...saying more or less the same thing...then the Social Worker, this Laurie Ackerman...who said the opposite, admitting that my Dad was NOT magically cured...but that she was "able to talk ANYONE into anything"...like what? Talking me into coming to pick my Dad up? My consistent "NO's" frustrated her to no end.
I held my ground with these people, but when I finally got a hold of brother, the stress of it hit me and I broke down crying. They HAD played on my feelings and guilt. They KNOW I'm the one who clearly has no common sense when it comes to my Dad...and oh did they try to use that in their favor. But my exhaustion has pounded some sense into me afterall...and I did NOT allow them to get anywhere with me.
Long story short, what happened on their end is that the usual Social Worker (Ackerman) was on vacation and the one filling in not only dropped the ball on filing the Conservatorship papers...but did not even ADMIT my Dad into the facility properly. So, according to their paperwork, they were keeping my Dad against his wishes and illegally.
THAT is not my problem.
They went from being astounded that little ol' me had been taking care of my Dad all this time, to not caring who took him off their hands ASAP.
I've seen the VA number a dozen times on my caller ID since, but I've been screening my calls and only answer when it's my Dad...who, needless to say, is nowhere near sounding "right as rain". He's just as paranoid and delusional as ever.
The Social Worker got a hold of my brother in an attempt to sway him...she left a message basically saying she wasn't getting anywhere with me and that I sounded "stressed".
Uh, really?
When I went to my Alzheimer's group and told them the latest, they couldn't believe it either. Every one of them said to ignore the VA's calls, and to NOT visit my Dad until he was placed somewhere else and made a ward of the state. They all said the same thing...that if me and my brother went to visit Dad this weekend as we planned, that these idiots could easily discharge my Dad and say they suddenly had no bed available...and god forbid if we took him out to lunch as we probably would have...that when we came back, he would have "magically" been disharged as well. I would not put that past these people. Not to mention that I'm sure we'd get cornered by all of them.
Some of my support group friends also said they might consider changing their phone number or consulting an attorney in this case...if for no other reason than to handle the abuse these people are dishing out to my Dad by telling him they are just waiting for US to take responsibilty and come pick him up. They're right, it is abuse. You just don't play with someone's head like that...especially someone who's mental function is not normal, it's cruel.
Yesterday the Resident Zambrano left another message...it said that Dr. Fenn, the "real" (chief) Doctor...wanted to talk to me RIGHT AWAY. Too bad. I've left SEVERAL messages for this Dr. Fenn and he has ignored them. But now that HE has something to say apparently and they are dying to get rid of my Dad, via MY car, he wants to talk to me. Nope. Not gonna happen. And what really boiled my blood was that I could totally tell that the phone call was made on speakerphone...so I can only assume that several of them were in the same office, all dying to hear what I had to say and planned on tag-teaming me yet again...but all on the same line this time. I mean, why bother with separate phone calls when there's SPEAKERPHONE? They could all yell at me and tell me again how they're "trying not to pass judgement on WHY I won't take RESPONSIBILITY" simultaneously that way!
Anyway, inbetween all this nonsense, I am trying to catch up on normal life...which has really equalled me falling asleep at 6pm and not waking up until the next morning. And I'm still tired.
I also finally got some thyroid test results back and they were far from normal, again. So, another change in my meds...but at least it gives me an explanation for why I have been feeling like a complete slug everyday.
Other than that...we celebrated my daughter's 6th birthday and that was great...it's the first low-key, non stressful occasion we've had in years. YEARS!!!!! It was nice just being able to concentrate on the task at hand...which was making sure my daughter had fun. Amazing how the obvious slips away when your priorities are so tangled up in everything but the actual task at hand.
Life.
Lewy.

Just the daily...

We are in the midst of ripping out all the downstairs flooring that Lewy ruined. I couldn't have imagined just how messy this was gonna be...but it should be all over in a few days, right? Then we'll have new floors that haven't been stained with 5 different bodily fluids or flooded. Looking forward to it!
The "Resident" Doctor called yesterday...more nonsense about the Conservatorship...and that they don't want to do it. I basically repeated what I already told him...I can't take care of Daddy. He asked if we were abandoning him then...?
My gawd, please. I reminded him that I have devoted myself to making my Dad's life better (or trying anyway) for over 3 years...to the detriment of my own family and health in the process. Just because I am finally taking a step back and saying I need help...I am abandoning him now? He was trying to get names and numbers of "other" family members HE thinks should take care of him. I laughed and said good luck with that...and gave him no information.
Honey, if there were "other" help out there...dontcha think I'd have utilized that by now?
A nurse dialed my number for Daddy today. When I saw the VA number, I assumed it was more Conservator questions...but it was actually my Dad. For the first time in a really long time, I was really, reallllllly happy to hear his voice. Maybe that's awful to say...but I have been neck deep in Daddy for over 3 years. I have now had over one week of silence from Lewy's screaming and acting out...so I was able to actually enjoy talking to him...my Dad, not Lewy.
He sounded okay, actually...slurring his words a bit, but he was making some sense today...asking how we all were, how the kids were...but asked where I'd been and why I haven't visited "in months", though it had only been one week. I told him I was planning on visiting him next week once we got the kids back on their school schedules (they start back tomorrow).
All in all, he sounded good...at least, a lot better than recent months, and that's something...I'll take it.
Oh, and today is Nany's birthday. She's been gone a year and and 9 months. She would've been 93 today. I don't think Daddy remembered because he would've said something about it. I wasn't about to remind him. If there is a positive thing about this damn disease is that it's robbing him of the bad memories too.
Sigh...

Contradictions.

Uh, yeah...so in a much earlier post, I wrote about how my Dad had been sent to the Geriatric Psych Ward over a year ago under the pretense that he'd be getting his meds straight, etc., then we'd bring him home...but what really happened was that they told me to walk away, that he was too far gone and that they were making him a ward of the state. I wrote how nothing had been even asked or explained, that they just proceeded without my knowledge and assumed we were abandoning him or that I was okay with that. At that time, I knew no more about Conservatorship than I do about the current budget "crisis" in California.
WELL...This time around...I do. I was called yesterday and asked about whether we'd spoken to anyone about Conservatorship and I said I had...and that I was not going to contest it like I did last time, since now I not only realize what it is, but have also thrown up my white flag in defeat of this disease or being able to care for my Dad.
Uh, yeah, no...they don't want to this time. They told me that IIIIIIIII needed to finance a Conservatorship...that "the family" needed to be the one that pursued this. Hmmm. If WE, meaning me, are not trying to BE the Conservator...why would III need to pursue anything? And what if I was dead...? Then what? Do they think they're going to track down my brother or sister and get them to do any paperwork that isn't in anyone's best interest and would shackle them to this like I've been? That's ludicrous and out of touch with reality. While yes, he is our family, our Dad...he is "just" our Dad. He is not my SPOUSE or CHILD. Everyone I have now talked to is in total agreement that I should've never tried to take the role of caregiver to begin with...I am "only" the daughter. Now, not that I totally agree that I "shouldn't" have tried to take care of my Dad...but when I obviously can't and have been sorely neglecting my own family and health in pursuing my father's 5 seconds of happiness per day...mustn't something give?...besides me?
I swear, everytime I turn around, I get a totally different experience/answer from the same situation. Are there no universal standards followed? What are rules for? Why so many contradictions with everything?
Whether it's dealing with bank issues or whatever...shouldn't there be some basic, universal rules and laws that EVERYONE follows? Why is it that every branch of bank and hospital and facility has their "own" rules and way of doing things? And why are we sent to lawyers to pay ungodly amounts of money for documents that are worth less than the paper they're printed on?
I never signed on as a Conservator or had the Trust papers officially filed when I found out that it would just make MORE work for me. No freakin' way. And since we all now know that the POA forms are looked upon as worthless...then what exactly is my place? I apparently don't have one unless it's convenient for the person saying so at the time. Either I am "authorized" or I'm not...I shouldn't half-ass be authorized at some places but not others when they don't want me to be. I give up. And I don't trust lawyers or this whole system, county and state government AT ALL. It's cracked.

So I had my Support Group meeting this morning. I hadn't been able to go for two weeks because of all the nonsense happening. I am so glad I made it today. I updated everyone on what's been happening, and got SO much input on everything...I feel a lot better now about this decision to not be the responsible one for my Dad anymore. And there was a woman named Rita who I'd never met who came. She has dealt with two parents in this situation and was an abundance of knowledge for me...she even chimed in on the whole money situation because she has been dealing with that as well. Although I have a massive headache right now from being stressed before the meeting, I do really feel a weight has been lifted...there is absolutely nothing like hearing other people telling the same story you are in at this very moment. Everyone had some input either about how I obviously need to let go of feeling guilty...to what they would do about the money...to the fact that they absolutely forbid me to sign ANY documents regarding my Dad's stay at the VA so I am not held responsible...and was even offered to be treated to a massage! My goodness!
I told you my support group friends were great!
I still have a lot to figure out and it appears that I will, yet again, have to meet with some sort of lawyer to figure out all this money nonsense...but for the moment, I am going to just be.

Dad, Psych Ward Resident.

After several calls to the place Dad was supposed to be, I found out Dad had been transferred the day after he arrived...to the Geriatric Psych Ward in Menlo Park. The Resident/Assistant to Dad's new Doctor called and told me that Dad was very combative and that though they had originally hoped to take him off all meds to see what they were working with...he is far too combative to allow that. He screams, tries to hit and generally wreaks havoc every second. Sounds a lot like how he was here at my house. They've got him on Seroquel, Haldol and Olanzapine...all pretty serious drugs...and all drugs that are not necessarily approved for use in the elderly with dementia because of the risk of sudden death. My god.
And apparently Dad needed an X-ray of his hand...the Resident didn't know exactly how that all came about...but it took several people to restrain Dad to even get the X-ray...which showed he had many small fractures throughout his hand. They have no idea how that happened. All I know is that in the last few weeks, Daddy has swung at so many objects, fallen, and thrown TV's...so it could've been any number of things that caused this.
I asked Mr. Resident Doctor Zambrano what he thought about contacting Dad or visiting...and he said I should ask the Nurse's since at least one of them is assigned to Dad 24/7 due to his combativeness. He said that they would be the best to assess whether he was having a good enough day to talk/visit. Really, that makes no difference...I don't know that Dad has any good days anymore...and considering we live a good hour and a half from Dad now, it would be an all-day trip to see him...a trip we'd have to plan in advance...and how can you "plan" for Dad to have a good day? You can't. So I guess we can call or visit at our own risk...and without the kids.
I think it may take me a while to get up the nerve to go...and I may wait until brother can go with me. I'm having a really hard time with all of this. I've been doing all kinds or organizing and cleaning around the house and yard...I mean, it's stuff that needs to be done anyway...but I am definitely using manual labor as cathartic therapy. Hey, if it works, it works. But is it working? I dunno.
I also had fun yesterday with the bank. We are trying to get Dad's Social Security check direct deposit nonsense switched to a new account, so that once the Conservatorship thing goes through, there will be this one, untouched account that has only ever had his SS check going into it. But no, hassled again. I got a load of paperwork and was told to call Social Security directly...which got me 47 minutes on the phone with an agent and no progress. Even though I went with Dad 3 years ago to the SS office to set all this crap set up, there was, of course, no record of this and so, of course, I am "not authorized" to do anything. SS doesn't recognize the POA forms. It seems that no one does unless you don't have one, then they want one. Naturally!
And, it seems that the bank doesn't have brother's POA form in the system either, which makes no sense since we both sat at the same desk on the same day and gave the bank our POA form...that has BOTH of our names on it. If they got the form with MY name on it...they automatically have my brothers name too...but no...so that needs to be done again. Seriously, how this world keeps spinning, I really don't know.

Adjusting to being normal?

I haven't posted because I am not used to this. I have nothing to report about my Dad.
I haven't called him since they took him because I know he's going to be completely confused and crying if I do, so I plan on calling the Dr. there today to see how things are going first.
The last few days I have swung between feeling completely exhausted and useless, to sad and depressed, and then full of energy that my body really isn't able to utilize.
I feel like I have failed my Dad and myself for allowing this to happen, for letting him be where he is.
YES, I know that common sense and logic (and everyone around me) tell me that I have to, for once, think of myself and my own family...that this situation was insane and that I could not go on like that anymore. I know all that. But it doesn't change that I still feel like I failed. And I don't get how everyone else can just go on like it's normal...is this normal? It's normal to be able to be happy while one of your family members is in a psych ward waiting to be made a ward of the state because you couldn't take care of him? If that is normal, then this explains why I am NOT "normal" and never have been.
This is not right, it's just not.

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.

Arrrrgh. Times Two.

Okay, no calls last night...but I took the phone off the hook so I don't know if they tried to call. It really irritates me that I have to take my phone off the hook to sleep...nevermind the fact that if an ACTUAL emergency happened, then I wouldn't find out about it.
SO...
My this morning Dad's VA Dr. called and said that there wasn't a bed available at the Geropsychiatric unit in Menlo Park, but there was a bed available at the Palo Alto Psych unit and they could admit him there and then transfer him when one was available at the other facility.
Okay, I think?
So I call the Nursing Home Daddy's at to tell them I'm coming to take him...to make sure he was awake, ready, etc. before I got there...and they tell me I CAN'T take him...that they need a Doctors order.
Huh?
I brought him there, admitted him...but I can't take him out?
3 conversations with 3 nurses later, they say they will call the onsite Doctor because HE has to give me permission to take my Dad.
I'm missing something.
They say that THEY are responsible for him, so that even if I wanted to take him HOME to MY house, they would have to give ME permission.
Uh, I didn't SIGN my Dad over to them, he is not their "ward"...he is merely a resident at their facility...that we are paying for.
Anyway, they say they'll "try" to get the paperwork done and contact the Doctor.
I say I'm coming in 30 minutes regardless.
I call my brother to see if there is any possible way he could come with me in case Dad gets out of hand. Hubby is home, but bringing him means bringing the kids...not an option. Brother said he could come! Yippppee! So I am going to pick Dad up then pick up brother on the way to the VA.
Then the VA Doctor calls back and says the Palo Alto VA just told her that the bed she was going to reserve was being reserved for someone else...but they're trying to make it official, so they'll get back to her...and that I should just hold on until she (if) she calls me back.
Ummm...so do I call the facility my Dad's at and cancel the whole paperwork trail and "getting permission"...or call my brother first to tell him the whole thing is off for now?
I leave a message with brother.
About 20 minutes later, the VA Dr. calls and says she's got the bed, to come now, before she leaves for lunch. It's a 30 minute drive to get Dad, and another 30-ish minute drive to get brother and get to the VA. No time to spare.
Brother calls just in time, he'd just gotten my "hold on" message...and I tell him we're back on.
I go to get Dad.
I wasn't prepared for seeing the way he looked in that Gery Chair thing. He was standing up in it, but he looked so pale and sad and he started crying as soon as he saw me. He thought he was in Albuquerque, NM...and that we'd left him there. Oh god, please don't cry, please don't cry, I tell myself.
They had already shoved all his clothes in a big plastic bag and he was ready to go except I had some paperwork to get.
I kept seeing this one guy milling around...not a patient...someone who looked like he worked there. But I was too busy to pay too much attention to him at the time.
Two Nurses helped my Dad and me out to the car...and as we're pulling out of the parking lot, the guy who was milling around came and tapped on my window. Apparently he was their Social Worker and wanted to know why I was taking my Dad out so suddenly. Not that I had time anyway, but I wasn't about to have that conversation with my Dad sitting there.
Many Doctors just freely discuss their "demented" patients right in front of them because they figure they won't recall any of it. That still doesn't seem right to me. I told the guy I would call him later.
So of course I got lost trying to pick up brother from work. I am so scatterbrained these days, getting lost is the least of my problems.
But we finally get to the VA, meet with the Dr. and she chats with Daddy for a few minutes. She was alarmed at how much he had declined since she last saw him a couple of months ago.
She tells us to go get Daddy some lunch while she does paperwork and orders the Ambulance.
I am feeling anxious.
Daddy has a hard time eating...he is kind of jerky and shaky. Brother gets the fun of taking to the bathroom afterward this time. That is an ordeal everytime...I should know!
I kept it together pretty well until they got Daddy into the Ambulance. Daddy had already been crying off and on and I had to look away, or think of something that annoys me to keep from bawling. I lost my "composure" when we were walking away from the Ambulance.
None of this is right.
He shouldn't have to go to a place like that. But I know that I have literally exhausted all other options, myself, hubby, and my two kids in the process of trying to make things the way IIIIII want them to be for him.
It's not what is the reality here and I have to accept that.

This will not be easy.