Today, driving to visit Mom at 4:45 pm, I got a phone call with the news that my daughter in recovery from cocaine addiction had relapsed but is okay, safely back in rehab as an inpatient.
By the time I dealt with that, I didn't show up in the Reminiscence Neighborhood until 6 pm.
When I appeared, Mom was sitting in a crowd of residents "watching" The Sound of Music, angry that I had not come sooner.
[Note: a few watch, most sit there sleeping or staring blankly.]
She beckoned to me to lean down and whispered something about how terrible and mean the staff had been to her today.
I wheeled her back to her room to do a toilet stop before pushing her in her wheelchair out in the evening air, still warm after another hot day.
But the door was locked and her suite-mate was pounding on it from the inside and yelling.
Caregivers came running, and it turned out that Frances had fallen. She was lying on the carpet striking the door with her cane, furious that no one had responded sooner to her cries for help.
During the Holocaust, Frances spent 2-3 years in a concentration camp, so she has some issues when her legitimate needs are not met.
As Esther tended to Frances, I grabbed Mom's hat and sunglasses and left the scene. We wheeled to Rite-Aid, where I bought us each a one-scoop ice cream cone.
Take care of yourself, says Al-Anon.
Then we went to Von's where I bought cooked shrimp for dinner, in case John gets home hungry.
Back in the Rem, I changed Mom to her nightgown, removed and cleaned her teeth, and set her up in the recliner.
Just another day in the Reminiscence Neighborhood.