Bowing out on Boylan Heights ArtWalk 2010 and what’s next . . .

After much consideration and another sleepless night, I’ve decided not to set up my porch for Boylan Heights ArtWalk today.  It’s been freezing for the past four ArtWalks.  Two years ago, after standing in the cold for the whole day, I had a fibromyalgia flare and could barely move for days afterward.  This year it’s even colder, the economy’s Bushed, and my parents both need huge amounts of my attention.  We close on their house next week, and I’ve still got to empty it out, get good pieces sold and others picked up by Goodwill/Veterans/whoever, and hire someone to haul away the 50-year-old beds.  The kids have trucked away the big pieces, but the linen closet, china cabinet, and kitchen still need to be sorted. 

Add to this that the parental units are desperately unhappy at the assisted living place we moved them into in August.  I’m conflicted about the level of care they receive there and have trouble sorting out Mom’s complaints vs. reality vs. what I’ve seen firsthand.  What I see there firsthand is not reassuring.  The nurses are supposed to give me two-week’s notice when meds are low so I can mail order them through my parents prescription service:  for the past two weekends, I’ve had calls from the medical technicians notifying me that Mom and/or Dad are completely out of something.  Mom complained of a UTI last week and I sent email to the head nurse and notified the medical technician in person that she needed to be put on the schedule to see the doctor when he came on Friday.  I spent five hours with my parents waiting for the doctor, in case I had to fill a prescription for her.  When I left at 2 pm, the front desk told me he was still in the building and my parents were still on his list.  Mom says he never showed up.  And then there’s the laundry – lost, bleached, ruined – I have to replace something every week.  The food service – no napkins, dirty silverware, and ask the impatient staff at least twice for anything else you need.  And little things like Mom can’t work the tv or the phone and I can’t reach anyone to help her, or I find Dad wearing his hearing aids with no batteries in them, if he’s wearing them at all.  Dad’s incontinent, but they can’t seem to keep a waterproof pad on his stuffed chair. 

Lord knows Mom is difficult to care for and Dad requires a huge amount of attention, but isn’t that part of the job description?  This place is rated highly and costs $8500 a month.  We’ve been working on getting Dad’s veterans benefits for three months and are told it will be another three months before action is taken.  I’ve used up and closed their IRA and savings accounts.

Add to this that Mom was relatively active up until this summer, when a fall led to a string of health complications necessitating five hospitalizations in four months.  Dad was diagnosed with anesthesia-induced dementia last spring and completely fell apart when Mom was hospitalized the first time.  During her most recent hospitalization, Mom became delirious, paranoid and suffered hallucinations.  Now she, too, is demented. 

I think I’ve justified to myself why I’m not going to spend the day standing on a cold porch watching hundreds of people not spending any money.  Why don’t I feel any better?   

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