Saturday, March 02, 2013

Shut up, it's only been five days.




Asperatus clouds, brilliant. The colour of my hair and the turbulance of my convoluted brain.
I'm sure inside my head looks like this. I can see my brain banging itself around my cranium what with the panic attacks, the agoraphobia and the cut backs of my usual coping mechanisms. I haven't been to the pokies for weeks, I haven't bought anything on ebay, my chocolate stash is empty, no ice-cream in the freezer and the cat food doesn't look appetizing.
I have a party to go to tomorrow, the weather looks great, I have the hat (Mad hatters tea party) but I can't bring myself to get a taxi and head out.  I've pushed myself too hard this last month and I'm paying for it now.

The Home is still unsure whether I'm going to sue it for negligence.  The Councillor hasn't replied to my request for 'Stop signs' outside the Home so it looks like another Don Quixote charge on my part. New rules at the Home involve no loud noise, no raucus laughter, no hugging of residents, no pet names for residents, no more than two carers in the room with a resident, no carers to sit down with residents in the activities room.  It's my mother's home, you fuckers, not a Gulag.  Everyone who had anything to do with helping the old girl during the recent crisis seems to have been deprived of working hours or put on the graveyard shift or has had spies watching for any infraction of rules.  Nurse, who I credit for saving the OG, now has had his sexuality whispered about.  Even someone who I thought would have known better has said that after all he was in charge but not until the infection had been reported twice and ignored and he is only part time not full time.  And sexuality has nothing to do with his ability, it's just snarking for the hell of it.

I left there yesterday looking like a raging Asperatus but mother's getting better and will make her 83rd birthday next Wednesday.  She doesn't want a fuss so on Thursday we're going to walk to the park next to the council chambers and have a picnic with her carers who have that day off and the one who wheels the chair and we will be raucus, we'll laugh, we'll sit together and we'll insult everyone we can think of.  As luck would have it, the bottle shop is just across the street, bring on the Black Ice. Lemonade for the OG. We can't have her going back and being loud.

9 comments:

The Elephant's Child said...

Hiss and spit. Loudly. Raucously. From a seated position.

Bleeping idiots. I love your plans for your mother's birthday. Sounds very good indeed, and I feel certain your insults will have both class and style. Take care of yourself. Please.

The Elephant's Child said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
JahTeh said...

EC, I'm sure you know how I feel all too well. It's a cover-up worthy of Watergate and I can do nothing more, not having witnessed a thing.

Ann ODyne said...

Yes, I second what El Chi said, and Going to that party is precisely the best medication for any/all the things giving you grief.
Anyone who thinks you are not brighter than any Phd, is just showing their own ignorance of how the world works.
ROCK on.
We all have absolute faith in you.

R.H. said...

Likewise.

River said...

Stupid rules are all for the insurance companies. They don't care one bit about people's feelings.

JahTeh said...

Annie O, I stayed home, had breakfast on the patio and watched the white cat roll in black dirt and chase butterflies, so much more relaxing. The weather today is heaven but not next week.

Rochester, a compliment, likewise back.

River, nothing to do with insurance just Nurse No 1 being paranoid that we might be laughing at him. Of course he's right and if you've read Harry Potter, you'll know why I refer to him as Dolores.

Middle Child said...

what is it with these people and all their rules - they are bloodywell everywhere these days - Hitler and Stalin were born in the wrong time - they'd find it easier these days I reckon

JahTeh said...

Middle child, I can see the point of the rules in a large nursing home where the oldies could be taken advantage of but not in a little 30 bed place which is like a home to them.