Against the wishes of everyone my mother-in-law decided to leave the nursing home and came home this past Saturday. She will be under the care of a home health agency and will also have someone visit her daily to check on her and help her with her daily activities.

I’ve offered to stay with her at night but she doesn’t want me to. She asked if I would visit her every Friday from now on so of course I said I would. I do hope she doesn’t ever have to go to the nursing home again. There is no such thing as a “good” nursing home. Nope.

The social worker never did call me back so I threw a fit about that when I got to the hospital. I know I should not have done that but it really ticked me off.

It turned out that the Old Lady was able to go to Hawthorne after all and I didn’t have to transport her. I was shocked when we got to Hawthorne because the pictures on the internet looked so beautiful. My heart just sank when they took her into her room. It looked like an, um, nursing home. Yeah, I know that is what it is but dang.

I do feel for her and I’m sorry she has to go through it. It is only for rehab though and to help her get her strength back. I know I rant about her all the time but I don’t wish bad things to happen to her. I’ll do whatever I can to keep her from being institutionalized permanently, even if it breaks my spirit. And it will, there is no doubt about that. I took care of my mother in 2000 in my home when she was in the hospice program and I took care of my brother in my home in 2004 when he was in the hospice program. I know I should “be over it” by now but I’m not the same as I was before I was their caregiver and I don’t think I’ll ever be the same. (A good shrink would probably help but *insert any excuse here for the reason* I don’t go.)

My mother-in-law is not in the hospice program and has not been diagnosed as terminally ill, but she is almost 85 years old so that’s basically the same thing as far as I’m concerned. We are doing all the same things for her that I did for my mother and brother.

I’m beat and I must not be a “real” blogger or I’d relate the whole ordeal of this afternoon detail by detail. Instead, I’m turning off the internet for awhile. I’d rather read blogs than to write in them anyway.

My husband called me last night from the hospital when he was visiting his mother. He told me (which left me flabbergasted) that his mother had agreed to go to a facility for physical therapy for her back. He said she would be going to Hawthorne, which is a place she has been aware of for some time and decided if she ever needs to go then Hawthorne is her choice.

Hubby asked me if I would pick MIL up from the hospital, bring her home to get some clothes and tie up any loose ends and then take her to Hawthorne. Being the good daughter-in-law I am I said I would.

I started getting second thoughts this morning. If the Old Lady can’t even walk from her bed to the bathroom how in hades am I supposed to manage getting her into and out of the house and car, etc. etc etc.? Hubby was already at work so I called and ran that by him (and whined) but he said he can’t take today off. arrrrgh…

So… being the bad daughter-in-law I am I procrastinated all morning fooling around on the internet. (so what else is new?) Finally about 12:30 I decided I’d better find out what was going on at the hospital. I called the nurses station and the nurse said the Old Lady wasn’t being released today – that she was being sent to a “home”. I said “yes I know, she is going to Hawthorne” and the nurse said she wasn’t going to Hawthorne. The nurse said the social worker was working on “finding her a bed” wherever they could take her.

So I called the Old Lady and asked how things were going and to let her know I’ll be there in just a little while. I asked her if she was sure she was going to Hawthorne and she said yes, she is sure. I believe there has been a miscommunication somewhere and the sparks and fur are really going to fly if she is placed somewhere besides Hawthorne. The social worker was at lunch so I left a message for her to call me. I’ll forward my calls to my cell phone and I’m out of here.

I knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but I didn’t know it was going to be like this. I hope I don’t have to fight with the social worker or the other hospital workers. I hate it hate it hate it but there are certain things I won’t put up with and having a hospital put my MIL into a home without her permission or her son’s permission is one of those things.