I am watching junk TV.
Today I gave my final, input the grades, and then came home, got Nita, took her to drum lessons and ran to the grocery store, coming back to pick her up.
We went to see my mother, who was agitated, throwing her arms around and babbling at the top of her voice. She smelled of urine, and her face had food on it. I was livid.
The nurse on the zone was new, and I approached him and said, "I understand you have a pad where you record patient concerns."
He said, "I do?" I explained that the pad was used to record issues so he could address them rather than me running off to the director of nursing with every problem. After looking through the med cart and the nurse's station desk, he and I went to the nursing supervisor. He told her what he wanted. She said, "I gave you one."
"You did?" he replied.
"Didn't I?" she asked. Meanwhile, my mother is shrieking "aiaiaiaiaiaiaiaiaia" from the dining room. I finally voiced my concerns to the nursing supervisor and went back to my mom; I washed her face and hands and tried feeding her. Eventually, since she wasn't eating, I took her down the hall to the dayroom and got her a cup of regular water, which she is not allowed to have because of swallowing difficulties. I gave her sips of water, pouring a few drops at a time into her mouth, until she had about four ounces. Then her eyes closed completely, she shuddered, and went to sleep.
I came home, made supper, and then told the kids about their uncle. Nita got angry and cried. Kiki knew it was coming and was philosophical. Rocky said, "So he's dead?"
"No, I said, "he's now in hospice care." Like grandma, who's been in hospice care for eight months now?
"Oh," he said. "So he'll die tomorrow."
So I explained that we didn't know when he would die, but it would most likely be sooner rather than later.
And now I'm exhausted, watching a rerun of Law and Order.