Tomorrow is the expected discharge day for my mom's most recent hospitalization. This is the same team that worked with her in November and I felt so good about her being treated there. This time the future looks grim.
We've had to decide which delusions we laugh off and which ones we race her to the ER for. There isn't talk anymore of "controlling the delusions." That battle is already lost. Schizoaffective Disorder simply refuses to play by the rules.
My mother has been in Gero Psyche for a week now. I saw her on Monday where she appeared groggy and admitted to hearing voices. On Tuesday I visited her and she seemed a bit more animated, but still wouldn't get out of bed. On Wednesday was her TDO hearing that was rescheduled twice. I didn't attend. This is the first hearing she's had where there wasn't at least one of her children at the hearing. I've heard it didn't go well and what was expected to be a voluntary commitment ended up with a scene, and involuntary commitment and an immediate med change. I've yet to find out what happened and part of me really doesn't want to know.
Back in November I allowed myself to hope that she could be normal again. When she left the hospital back then part of me was angry for starting to clear out her house. I had hope she would one day be able to live on her own again. I guess maybe that's what's been keeping me going through all this. That one day I'd be able to "fix" her if I just tried a little harder. If I prayed harder, if I worked a little more, if I found the right doctor, if I just made the right choice I could change things. Obviously this is a very foolish notion that I need to let go of. She is never going to be "fixed." I'll never have my mom. I've always felt she has been lurking under there my whole life, screaming to be let out. Now I have to wonder if she ever existed.
The discussion this week has been about whether we as a family should sign a "do not resuscitate (DNR)" or a "do not intubate (DNI)" order for her. I didn't think that's a decision I would be thinking of so soon. I had to call all my siblings and ask their opinions, taking a few moments to grieve in between calls and begging in my head for someone else to make this decision. The results were two for, two against and one on the fence for the DNR. Unanimous for a DNI. One of my siblings, in objecting to the DNR, felt that I might feel guilty if I sign the DNR and she has a heart attack. As if the guilt of ending life support would somehow be easier than getting a call that her heart stopped. I'll have crushing guilt either way. This isn't a choice. It's a nightmare.
I remember as a kid I always felt I would never euthanize a pet because it was cruel. Then we did everything we could do to save our beloved cat Piglet. In the end I could see the pain in his eyes and I saw that I didn't help him by having the vet take heroic measures. I made him miserable. We had several more cats who died after long and painful illnesses. And I figured out that euthanasia is not cruel. The heroic measures were what was cruel. Not that I would euthanize my mom - even if I could. It's just that she's suffering so much. I can't imagine wanting to prolong that by artificial means, even if those artificial means are relatively minor and basic in most cases.
Today I spoke with my mom's mom. There was one thing that echoed long after we ended the call. She said she felt she should have done more for my mother when my mom was younger. Maybe she could have said something or gotten help for her or convinced my dad she needed help. This is something I've been wrestling with over the years. I have been angry that no one did anything to help her. I felt this horror show we are living in could have been avoided if someone had just done "something" decades ago. But I've learned a few things. Sometimes we do more harm when we act than when we don't.
All this was set in motion a long time ago and no matter how many people push against it, it can't be slowed or stopped. It's in a constant, steady motion forward. It's only a matter of time.
Showing posts with label assisted living. Show all posts
Showing posts with label assisted living. Show all posts
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Monday, November 28, 2011
For Once Hospital Discharge is Full of Hope
I got word today that my mother will be discharged from the hospital tomorrow. Now usually at this point all the family members are scrambling, I'm on the phone with the hospital social worker begging for more days. The phone lines are all busy and I have two people on the phone at a time. This time mom appears to be better than I've seen her in years. I think she's ready to be out of the hospital. Plus this time (unlike all the other times) she's going back to her assisted living facility, so there is someone there to keep track of her meds and make sure she's been bathed.
But I think what makes this time different is that we saw actual improvement in her. We didn't feel like the doctor was just doing everything she could to quickly stabilize her and send her on her way because another more needy person was waiting for the bed. I hope my mother will continue to improve. The last time she was in the hospital we were told to just expect her confused, depressed, delusional brain was her new baseline. Like that was supposed to give me some warm fuzzy feeling about her care.
Instead of receiving hospital care that feels formulaic and impersonal, as if the doctor were treating a simple infection or a broken bone, she has received personalized care. The doctor this time, it seems, spent time figuring things out and really asking specific questions about how my mother has been over her kids' lifetimes. As a result my mother has received a new diagnosis. One that explains all the ups and downs of my childhood and the reason why she does well for only a few months at a time until the depression takes hold and fuels the psychosis and she ends up back in the hospital every few months.
Her new diagnosis is Schizoaffective Disorder. For my mother it is basically schizophrenia plus bipolar disorder. It explains why she spent all of the 1980's and most of the 1990s in bed, book ended with occasional bursts of compulsive shopping, cleaning and calling the 700 Club. This change in diagnosis means changes in medications and hopefully a better "baseline" from which to draw. The unfortunate thing about it is that it can look like dementia. So, the question becomes does she have dementia or was it just Schizoaffective Disorder. It complicates things since we have a long family history of the disease.
I am thankful for this more clarified diagnosis and I really hope it means things will improve, but this has brought out painful memories for me. I haven't been able to help myself in brooding in the childhood I experienced. If only someone could have helped her then would my siblings and I experienced a childhood filled with sports teams, dance classes and wonderful family memories? Was there a chance for something other than a childhood full of darkness and anxiety? It's hard to let go of the past when it affects the present so much.
I saw mom a few days ago and I can't tell you how much she's improved. Of course there are still delusions. She told me and two of my siblings that the doctor did a CT scan and found she had multiple strokes and suffered permanent brain damage. The doctor never had her undergo a CT. She only tells these delusions to family. Makes it that much more difficult to find people to help.
I'm hopeful for this next stage of the journey, but we've been here before and nothing improves. They say the definition of crazy is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. And we've been at this point many times only to be set up to fail all over again. But without hope you can do nothing but give up, so I'll hold on to every scrap of it I can find. What choice do I have?
But I think what makes this time different is that we saw actual improvement in her. We didn't feel like the doctor was just doing everything she could to quickly stabilize her and send her on her way because another more needy person was waiting for the bed. I hope my mother will continue to improve. The last time she was in the hospital we were told to just expect her confused, depressed, delusional brain was her new baseline. Like that was supposed to give me some warm fuzzy feeling about her care.
Instead of receiving hospital care that feels formulaic and impersonal, as if the doctor were treating a simple infection or a broken bone, she has received personalized care. The doctor this time, it seems, spent time figuring things out and really asking specific questions about how my mother has been over her kids' lifetimes. As a result my mother has received a new diagnosis. One that explains all the ups and downs of my childhood and the reason why she does well for only a few months at a time until the depression takes hold and fuels the psychosis and she ends up back in the hospital every few months.
Her new diagnosis is Schizoaffective Disorder. For my mother it is basically schizophrenia plus bipolar disorder. It explains why she spent all of the 1980's and most of the 1990s in bed, book ended with occasional bursts of compulsive shopping, cleaning and calling the 700 Club. This change in diagnosis means changes in medications and hopefully a better "baseline" from which to draw. The unfortunate thing about it is that it can look like dementia. So, the question becomes does she have dementia or was it just Schizoaffective Disorder. It complicates things since we have a long family history of the disease.
I am thankful for this more clarified diagnosis and I really hope it means things will improve, but this has brought out painful memories for me. I haven't been able to help myself in brooding in the childhood I experienced. If only someone could have helped her then would my siblings and I experienced a childhood filled with sports teams, dance classes and wonderful family memories? Was there a chance for something other than a childhood full of darkness and anxiety? It's hard to let go of the past when it affects the present so much.
I saw mom a few days ago and I can't tell you how much she's improved. Of course there are still delusions. She told me and two of my siblings that the doctor did a CT scan and found she had multiple strokes and suffered permanent brain damage. The doctor never had her undergo a CT. She only tells these delusions to family. Makes it that much more difficult to find people to help.
I'm hopeful for this next stage of the journey, but we've been here before and nothing improves. They say the definition of crazy is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. And we've been at this point many times only to be set up to fail all over again. But without hope you can do nothing but give up, so I'll hold on to every scrap of it I can find. What choice do I have?
Monday, October 24, 2011
The Eternal Unibrow
A few months ago I was talking with some friends about moms. One friend was telling us the story about her mother's final months. It was sad and horrible for her to watch and I know losing her mother was devastating. Reminds me I'm not the only one with struggles. This brought the conversation over to the challenges I've had taking care of my mom. My sister and I had just spent a month looking for an assisted living for her live in and get her as healthy as we could after a long hospital stay so I guess I had assisted livings on the brain. So the conversation went over to my worst fear...
My worst fear in life (at the moment) is not getting Dementia or my kids not living up to their full potential, or my mother getting sicker. That would be normal. I guess I just see those as the ups and downs of life that are expected and nothing to fear because you can do little to change what will happen. You handle things as they come.
My biggest fear at the moment is living out my days in an assisted living facility with a UNIBROW.
Now when I mentioned this the entire population of the NSDAR's Historian General's office burst out laughing.
Now, I still am not sure why this was funny because really I was being truthful. But I guess not everyone is on the same thought pattern as me. My sister and I combined visited dozens of assisted living facilities (ALF) and one of the main questions we brought up was about grooming. All the places had some sort of "beauty shop" where hair was washed, cut and styled. After telling us about these wonderful services I would always ask "do you provide waxing or hair grooming for other parts of the body like the face or legs?" Every person I asked looked like I might need to be locked up somewhere and medicated heavily.
When we are young we think nothing of what grooming habits we will be able to keep up when we are old. That's normal. I'm not a vain person (I don't think). I rarely wear makeup. My hair is wash, dry, brush (pony tail?) and go for better or worse. I have started a love affair with yoga pants and t-shirts that are at least mostly stain and hole free. But I try to never miss a waxing appointment. Big caterpillars over your eyes that join in the center just aren't attractive on anybody.
These days I spend time clipping my mother's nails and shaping them so they won't snag her clothes or scratch her skin. I've on more than one occasion convinced her to bathe with the promise of shaving her legs afterwards. I bought an electric razor now for that purpose to cut down on the chance of nicks. It was difficult as a kid to learn how to shave my own legs without cutting myself. Imagine shaving the legs of someone who wiggles. Some days I help her dress and put on her deodorant for her or comb her hair. She has cradle cap from lack of hair washing. She was never great at washing her own hair, but now that she's in an ALF we have to remind them to wash her hair and she often protests. It's hard to see her like this.
So what's your biggest fear? Where are you in your life that makes that a fear? Do you fear McDonald's because of the return of skinny jeans? Do you fear health problems? Do you fear the mail carrier because of the bills or bad news he/she brings?
Love it or hate it but fear drives our decisions in life. Right now I'm fine with my eyebrows driving mine.
My worst fear in life (at the moment) is not getting Dementia or my kids not living up to their full potential, or my mother getting sicker. That would be normal. I guess I just see those as the ups and downs of life that are expected and nothing to fear because you can do little to change what will happen. You handle things as they come.
My biggest fear at the moment is living out my days in an assisted living facility with a UNIBROW.
Now when I mentioned this the entire population of the NSDAR's Historian General's office burst out laughing.
Now, I still am not sure why this was funny because really I was being truthful. But I guess not everyone is on the same thought pattern as me. My sister and I combined visited dozens of assisted living facilities (ALF) and one of the main questions we brought up was about grooming. All the places had some sort of "beauty shop" where hair was washed, cut and styled. After telling us about these wonderful services I would always ask "do you provide waxing or hair grooming for other parts of the body like the face or legs?" Every person I asked looked like I might need to be locked up somewhere and medicated heavily.
When we are young we think nothing of what grooming habits we will be able to keep up when we are old. That's normal. I'm not a vain person (I don't think). I rarely wear makeup. My hair is wash, dry, brush (pony tail?) and go for better or worse. I have started a love affair with yoga pants and t-shirts that are at least mostly stain and hole free. But I try to never miss a waxing appointment. Big caterpillars over your eyes that join in the center just aren't attractive on anybody.
These days I spend time clipping my mother's nails and shaping them so they won't snag her clothes or scratch her skin. I've on more than one occasion convinced her to bathe with the promise of shaving her legs afterwards. I bought an electric razor now for that purpose to cut down on the chance of nicks. It was difficult as a kid to learn how to shave my own legs without cutting myself. Imagine shaving the legs of someone who wiggles. Some days I help her dress and put on her deodorant for her or comb her hair. She has cradle cap from lack of hair washing. She was never great at washing her own hair, but now that she's in an ALF we have to remind them to wash her hair and she often protests. It's hard to see her like this.
So what's your biggest fear? Where are you in your life that makes that a fear? Do you fear McDonald's because of the return of skinny jeans? Do you fear health problems? Do you fear the mail carrier because of the bills or bad news he/she brings?
Love it or hate it but fear drives our decisions in life. Right now I'm fine with my eyebrows driving mine.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Communicating Through Mud: it's not just for kids anymore!
I haven't shared a funny (ish) blog post in a while and since schizophrenia tries it's hardest to take the joy out of most things in life I feel it's long overdue. So I will share with you what it feels like to be me these days.
Now I have a BA in Communication. I feel like I'm a pretty good communicator. I spend a great deal of time choosing my words carefully so that the impact I want conveys to the other party. I help run support group meetings for breastfeeding moms, a delicate job in itself and I feel like I do a pretty good job. What usually gets me in trouble is over analyzing what people say. I remember the first meeting I led. The wonderful person who trained me said "you did a great job! Gave lots of information!" Now at first I felt proud that I had done a good job. But then I analyzed...
and analyzed...
and analyzed...
and somehow I started to wonder if she really meant I did do a good job. Did I talk to much? Sounded too expertish? Oh My God I'm a FREAKING FAILURE! THEY'RE GOING TO NEVER LET ME BACK IN THAT ROOM AGAIN!!!
Part of me thinks it's an asset to analyze so much. But then I realize how much I'm reading into people's words or body language. So people become big puzzles I have to put together in my head. I have to hide when people discover I'm staring. And since I can't open up anyone's brain and read her thoughts I never know for sure if I'm reading someone the right way. Then I want to just avoid people because cats are just easier to read. Yes I want to be THAT cat lady. Life would be simple, yet full of fleas.
I manage okay. I get through life being able to at least communicate a little. I think at least half of what I say makes sense to at least half of people. But I'm having my doubts on my abilities to even handle basic communication. Recently I had a conversation with my daughter's teacher which started with me trying to find out why she was struggling in school and ended with me sounding like a horrible bigot in the teacher's eyes. Is my brain going? Did my unclipped tongue tie decide that now it was going to exact revenge on my speaking abilities? Am I saying something different than what my brain thinks it's saying? Did someone install a speech changer? Am I getting dementia in my 30's? Am I paranoid? Why do I hear laughing? Ahhhhhhhh!
But I calm down, drink some wine and I feel like I just overreacted. Obviously I can speak and dementia in your 30's is unheard of, right?
Then cue the communication with my mother's assisted living facility and the doctors. I'm starting to feel like I'm talking through a thick wall of mud. This was a conversation a few months ago I had with the director of nursing.
Me: "since we're having such a problem with the doctors signing orders is there something I can bring like a med sheet they can sign."
Her: "no, there's no such thing."
Me: "can you give me anything to make this easier? I feel like I can't explain to them what you want."
Her: "no, there's nothing. I'm just going to have to treat these doctors like children because they won't do their jobs."
So fast forward to today with the doctor.
me: "I know it's an electronic prescription, but I need something for the assisted living facility to honor the change in dosage. Can you write something?"
Dr: "all right, I'll do it this time but next time they need to send you with a copy of the physician order sheets so I can just make the change and sign it. Ask for it a day or two in advance so they can get it together and bring it when you come next time."
Me: "okay, I'll get them to do that, thank you. Oh you didn't write the diagnosis on the prescription..." Dr walking into another patient's room
Me (to the nurse) "can you write the diagnosis on here. They are going to hassle me when I get back."
Nurse: "no, they already know what it's for."
Me: (back at the facility) " here's the med change."
Her: "geez okay he needed to put the diagnosis on here."
Me: "I know. I asked and they said you had it. He also said he needs me to bring the med orders or something with me next time."
Her: "med orders? There's no such thing."
Me: "well, isn't it one of those sheets on your desk."
Her: "no, this is something else. Did you get the physician order sheets before you left.(shows me what looks like the identical sheets I pointed to on her desk)."
Me: "uh no, I think that's what he wants. You've never given me any."
her: "I've given them to you every time."
Me: "no, I think I would remember that. I didn't know I should ask for it."
Her: "yes you should get a copy of the physician order sheet every time you take your mom to the doctor. But I know I've done that for you before."
Me: "I can assure you I've never gotten one. Maybe my sister has gotten one when she's taken our mom to the doctor, but I didn't know I was supposed to get it (didn't mention I felt like I had asked for the sheet before and was turned down)"
So I feel like there is some special language these people are speaking and I feel like I understand what they are saying, but when I ask for things not using their special language they seem to have no idea what I'm talking about. When I say "med orders" it doesn't mean "physician orders" to them and I'm left not understanding why that isn't close enough. Why do I feel like I'm in Spain again after 4 years of spanish classes trying to order ice cream in spanish and being looked at like I'm speaking feline?
Does anyone know if Rosetta Stone has a course in speaking "assisted livingese?" I clearly need an interpreter or a basic course in "Annoying terms in the medical field you must get right or they will think you are a moron." Maybe I can start writing on my arm when they talk so I can keep careful notes with exact terms. Or bring in a stenographer. Or maybe go to medical school so I understand it all. Or maybe......
Does anyone have a spare straight jacket I could borrow?
Now I have a BA in Communication. I feel like I'm a pretty good communicator. I spend a great deal of time choosing my words carefully so that the impact I want conveys to the other party. I help run support group meetings for breastfeeding moms, a delicate job in itself and I feel like I do a pretty good job. What usually gets me in trouble is over analyzing what people say. I remember the first meeting I led. The wonderful person who trained me said "you did a great job! Gave lots of information!" Now at first I felt proud that I had done a good job. But then I analyzed...
and analyzed...
and analyzed...
and somehow I started to wonder if she really meant I did do a good job. Did I talk to much? Sounded too expertish? Oh My God I'm a FREAKING FAILURE! THEY'RE GOING TO NEVER LET ME BACK IN THAT ROOM AGAIN!!!
Part of me thinks it's an asset to analyze so much. But then I realize how much I'm reading into people's words or body language. So people become big puzzles I have to put together in my head. I have to hide when people discover I'm staring. And since I can't open up anyone's brain and read her thoughts I never know for sure if I'm reading someone the right way. Then I want to just avoid people because cats are just easier to read. Yes I want to be THAT cat lady. Life would be simple, yet full of fleas.
I manage okay. I get through life being able to at least communicate a little. I think at least half of what I say makes sense to at least half of people. But I'm having my doubts on my abilities to even handle basic communication. Recently I had a conversation with my daughter's teacher which started with me trying to find out why she was struggling in school and ended with me sounding like a horrible bigot in the teacher's eyes. Is my brain going? Did my unclipped tongue tie decide that now it was going to exact revenge on my speaking abilities? Am I saying something different than what my brain thinks it's saying? Did someone install a speech changer? Am I getting dementia in my 30's? Am I paranoid? Why do I hear laughing? Ahhhhhhhh!
But I calm down, drink some wine and I feel like I just overreacted. Obviously I can speak and dementia in your 30's is unheard of, right?
Then cue the communication with my mother's assisted living facility and the doctors. I'm starting to feel like I'm talking through a thick wall of mud. This was a conversation a few months ago I had with the director of nursing.
Me: "since we're having such a problem with the doctors signing orders is there something I can bring like a med sheet they can sign."
Her: "no, there's no such thing."
Me: "can you give me anything to make this easier? I feel like I can't explain to them what you want."
Her: "no, there's nothing. I'm just going to have to treat these doctors like children because they won't do their jobs."
So fast forward to today with the doctor.
me: "I know it's an electronic prescription, but I need something for the assisted living facility to honor the change in dosage. Can you write something?"
Dr: "all right, I'll do it this time but next time they need to send you with a copy of the physician order sheets so I can just make the change and sign it. Ask for it a day or two in advance so they can get it together and bring it when you come next time."
Me: "okay, I'll get them to do that, thank you. Oh you didn't write the diagnosis on the prescription..." Dr walking into another patient's room
Me (to the nurse) "can you write the diagnosis on here. They are going to hassle me when I get back."
Nurse: "no, they already know what it's for."
Me: (back at the facility) " here's the med change."
Her: "geez okay he needed to put the diagnosis on here."
Me: "I know. I asked and they said you had it. He also said he needs me to bring the med orders or something with me next time."
Her: "med orders? There's no such thing."
Me: "well, isn't it one of those sheets on your desk."
Her: "no, this is something else. Did you get the physician order sheets before you left.(shows me what looks like the identical sheets I pointed to on her desk)."
Me: "uh no, I think that's what he wants. You've never given me any."
her: "I've given them to you every time."
Me: "no, I think I would remember that. I didn't know I should ask for it."
Her: "yes you should get a copy of the physician order sheet every time you take your mom to the doctor. But I know I've done that for you before."
Me: "I can assure you I've never gotten one. Maybe my sister has gotten one when she's taken our mom to the doctor, but I didn't know I was supposed to get it (didn't mention I felt like I had asked for the sheet before and was turned down)"
So I feel like there is some special language these people are speaking and I feel like I understand what they are saying, but when I ask for things not using their special language they seem to have no idea what I'm talking about. When I say "med orders" it doesn't mean "physician orders" to them and I'm left not understanding why that isn't close enough. Why do I feel like I'm in Spain again after 4 years of spanish classes trying to order ice cream in spanish and being looked at like I'm speaking feline?
Does anyone know if Rosetta Stone has a course in speaking "assisted livingese?" I clearly need an interpreter or a basic course in "Annoying terms in the medical field you must get right or they will think you are a moron." Maybe I can start writing on my arm when they talk so I can keep careful notes with exact terms. Or bring in a stenographer. Or maybe go to medical school so I understand it all. Or maybe......
Does anyone have a spare straight jacket I could borrow?
Friday, October 7, 2011
Organization by Fire
Those of you who know me in real life know that I am the last person you would called "organized." Up until the last few months my organization system has consisted of a series of piles of paper. Now if you were to ask me where a particular paper was I would know it was 6 sheets down from the top and would be able to find it within seconds. If my husband or one of my kids moved said pile to look for something or because it was in their way the pile was dead to me. I would search the house for hours for the pile and wouldn't find it because it was moved a foot to the right. But I almost never pay a bill late or lose things despite my house looking like a hurricane blew through it. I have a very dear friend whose house is always immaculate, but she can't find anything.
Since becoming Guardian and Conservator for mom, PTA Treasurer, Book-keeper for my little non-profit chapter and my volunteer work with scouts I had no choice but to become organized. It's not perfect, but it is helping take the stress out of finding things. There are just too many facts swimming in my head for me to keep track.
I've been receiving lots of compliments on how I'm so organized for my mother's records so I felt I would share with you how I've done it. Maybe this will help you with your medical records or records with your medically challenged loved one. I will say I enjoy the satisfaction of being able to pull out my notebook and immediately find records and dates when others feel the information is impossible to find or they disagree with me. The notebook became an invaluable tool when dealing with the Assisted Living Facility this past two weeks. And I can almost feel the fear in people when I whip it out.
My older sister a few years ago mentioned to me that she decided to make sure she got all her children's doctor's business cards and put them in a scrap book for her husband just in case anything happened to her. I landed in the hospital earlier this year with flu complications. With my health history there have been a few times I've been almost certain I wouldn't live to see morning so this made me feel the need to keep records that I could leave behind for my family in case something happens to me. Car accidents, construction accidents, work accidents happen often enough and none of us truly knows how long we have on this Earth. So I started a system of keeping business cards of doctors in baseball card holders. Then I started putting cards from people who have worked on the house, cut my hair or give me quotes for work. It's really wonderful having them all in one place and all I have to do is open the folder and see which card I need within seconds.
So I started to feel I needed to keep really good records for my mom. You never know when you need to have the fax number of the pharmacy or the address of a doctor quickly. So I'll describe below how I have set up my records.
I keep one notebook with me to carry to and from appointments. This is the list of things I have in the notebook. I made a smaller one for my sister for her to keep track. I keep most things in plastic sleeves so they can be removed quickly when needed, but often viewed without having to be removed. Other things just have punched holes so I can access and write on them without having to fiddle too much.
1. A pocket for keeping receipts, scripts, checkbook, pen or anything little that can easily fall out and float away
2. A calendar I printed from a website. This allows me to write down mileage for medical visits, dates of doctor appointments and I also put notes about what I did on visits with my mother. If I clip her nails I write it down. If I had to give her a bath I write that down. If I have a problem I write that down and write when it's resolved.
3. A contact sheet. This is for the people I speak to on the phone and need to write down their information. This way I don't have dozens of slips of paper floating everywhere.
4. Photocopies of my guardianship/conservatorship qualification letters so I can give a copy on the spot
5. The originals of the qualification letters so if someone needs to see the original it's immediately available
6. Photocopies of insurance cards
7. Medication delivery record since that's clearly needed now
8. Copies of medical orders and med lists and prescriptions. Appointment sheets if printed for me
9. Some medical records, insurance letters, pharmacy information and similar information
10. Directions if I've had to print any
11. Baseball card sleeves filled with the business cards of people I talk with, insurance cards and appointment cards. I always ask for two of everything if possible so my sister has one as well.
12. Ledger paper to record checks written
I keep a notebook at home which contains:
1. Bank statements
3. Account numbers that I may need to find quickly
2. Medical records that I don't need to carry with me, but should keep on hand
3. Lawyer information that details my requirements as conservator
4. Mom's birth certificate and Marriage certificate
5. Copies of my reports for the court
6. Originals of the order written by the lawyer dictating our responsibilities as guardians and conservator
7. Anything else I feel is important that I'd like to be able to find quickly
And I have a 12 month pocket folder for all receipts so they are easy to find. I also have a monthly financial report I created with the help of Excel and my husband. I modeled it after the PTA's reports. Volunteering has helped me get so much training for free and has helped me immensely.
It has eased my mind that I have things organized. Unfortunately spending time on this has taken away from organizing my house. Some days I can barely walk in it without stepping on something. I need to get my kids or hubby to start doing more chores. Or hire a maid who works for free. Yeah I don't think those things are going to happen either.
Since becoming Guardian and Conservator for mom, PTA Treasurer, Book-keeper for my little non-profit chapter and my volunteer work with scouts I had no choice but to become organized. It's not perfect, but it is helping take the stress out of finding things. There are just too many facts swimming in my head for me to keep track.
I've been receiving lots of compliments on how I'm so organized for my mother's records so I felt I would share with you how I've done it. Maybe this will help you with your medical records or records with your medically challenged loved one. I will say I enjoy the satisfaction of being able to pull out my notebook and immediately find records and dates when others feel the information is impossible to find or they disagree with me. The notebook became an invaluable tool when dealing with the Assisted Living Facility this past two weeks. And I can almost feel the fear in people when I whip it out.
My older sister a few years ago mentioned to me that she decided to make sure she got all her children's doctor's business cards and put them in a scrap book for her husband just in case anything happened to her. I landed in the hospital earlier this year with flu complications. With my health history there have been a few times I've been almost certain I wouldn't live to see morning so this made me feel the need to keep records that I could leave behind for my family in case something happens to me. Car accidents, construction accidents, work accidents happen often enough and none of us truly knows how long we have on this Earth. So I started a system of keeping business cards of doctors in baseball card holders. Then I started putting cards from people who have worked on the house, cut my hair or give me quotes for work. It's really wonderful having them all in one place and all I have to do is open the folder and see which card I need within seconds.
So I started to feel I needed to keep really good records for my mom. You never know when you need to have the fax number of the pharmacy or the address of a doctor quickly. So I'll describe below how I have set up my records.
I keep one notebook with me to carry to and from appointments. This is the list of things I have in the notebook. I made a smaller one for my sister for her to keep track. I keep most things in plastic sleeves so they can be removed quickly when needed, but often viewed without having to be removed. Other things just have punched holes so I can access and write on them without having to fiddle too much.
1. A pocket for keeping receipts, scripts, checkbook, pen or anything little that can easily fall out and float away
2. A calendar I printed from a website. This allows me to write down mileage for medical visits, dates of doctor appointments and I also put notes about what I did on visits with my mother. If I clip her nails I write it down. If I had to give her a bath I write that down. If I have a problem I write that down and write when it's resolved.
3. A contact sheet. This is for the people I speak to on the phone and need to write down their information. This way I don't have dozens of slips of paper floating everywhere.
4. Photocopies of my guardianship/conservatorship qualification letters so I can give a copy on the spot
5. The originals of the qualification letters so if someone needs to see the original it's immediately available
6. Photocopies of insurance cards
7. Medication delivery record since that's clearly needed now
8. Copies of medical orders and med lists and prescriptions. Appointment sheets if printed for me
9. Some medical records, insurance letters, pharmacy information and similar information
10. Directions if I've had to print any
11. Baseball card sleeves filled with the business cards of people I talk with, insurance cards and appointment cards. I always ask for two of everything if possible so my sister has one as well.
12. Ledger paper to record checks written
I keep a notebook at home which contains:
1. Bank statements
3. Account numbers that I may need to find quickly
2. Medical records that I don't need to carry with me, but should keep on hand
3. Lawyer information that details my requirements as conservator
4. Mom's birth certificate and Marriage certificate
5. Copies of my reports for the court
6. Originals of the order written by the lawyer dictating our responsibilities as guardians and conservator
7. Anything else I feel is important that I'd like to be able to find quickly
And I have a 12 month pocket folder for all receipts so they are easy to find. I also have a monthly financial report I created with the help of Excel and my husband. I modeled it after the PTA's reports. Volunteering has helped me get so much training for free and has helped me immensely.
It has eased my mind that I have things organized. Unfortunately spending time on this has taken away from organizing my house. Some days I can barely walk in it without stepping on something. I need to get my kids or hubby to start doing more chores. Or hire a maid who works for free. Yeah I don't think those things are going to happen either.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Resolution - I hope
Today was the day to meet with the Senior Services Ombudsman and the director, director of nursing and one of the Med-Techs at my mother's assisted living facility. I have to say I feel it went better than I expected. The ombudsman was awesome and really helpful. I have no idea how we could have done this without him.
I stated my case to everyone and it seems that even though I felt I was informing them there was a problem they did not listen to me at all. It was only when my sister went up to the facility 4 days after I informed them of the problem they claim was the first they knew about the situation. I pointed out that everytime I've tried talking with them about anything recently they have seemed distracted and have made me feel dismissed. I guess that's because they were distracted and were dismissing me. And here I thought it might be all in my head.
Funny I spent the first 20 years of my life trying to become invisible. Now I'm fighting for people to notice and listen to me. Hmmmm. I guess I'm hard to please.
I think what helped me the most was that I started tracking the days I was visiting my mother or taking care of things for her. I primarily started that (and made one for my sister) to keep track of mileage and appointments, but it has become invaluable now because I can write on it what happened at each visit. When I was able to tell them how many times I was physically in their facility during the time period in question, what days I came in to talk about medications and when I delivered medications or needed supplies that helped make my case credible. We pointed out some huge holes in their communication and have come away with a plan which I hope will work. I really would hate to move my mother from this facility, but if these changes aren't made I see no other option.
Today the agreement was...
They will contact me if my mother refuses any medication.
They will make they give me a 10 day notice before her medications run out.
Any falls will be documented (as some have not been)
They will be better about communicating with each other and with us.
I will make appointments when I need to talk with them (I'm concerned about this given I often need to speak with them just after a medical appointment and never know when I will need to speak with them until the appointment is over. But I was told I can send an email and the director will receive it on her phone and will be able to accommodate me quickly. Here's hoping).
The Ombudsman will go back to the facility to make sure they are compliant with the plan and we will meet again in a month to see how things are going. My sister brought up that if there are problems with our mother's meds the facility should really be checking every resident's sheets to make sure they handling those appropriately Initially the directors were resistant, but the ombudsman said the expectation is that a problem has been brought to their attention and they are expected to implement the fixes facility wide.
Here's hoping in a month it's nothing but sunshine and rainbows again there.
And my mother is doing better today. She was still very delusional and agitated, but improved over the previous week when I picked her up. After her appointment she received her Haldol shot. About 30 minutes after that shot, she was smiling, the shakes had gone away and she was a million percent better. Here's hoping she doesn't start to tank as the shot wears off again. I guess if she does we know she can't handle 4 week intervals. And the doctor assured me that the issue with her Celexa (the drug she missed at least 9 times) wasn't causing the present issue. I'm not sure if I buy that completely, but at least it made me less worried about it.
I've been told many times that people have never seen such active family members when it comes to caring for a mentally ill or aging loved one. I find that sad, but understandable. This has caused me so much stress. I feel like it is chipping away at me. But since it hasn't destroyed me in 36 years of fighting that must mean I'm made of tougher stuff than schizophrenia is. My mother's illness has taught me to fight for what I believe in, so in some ways I should thank it, although I would really really rather not.
I stated my case to everyone and it seems that even though I felt I was informing them there was a problem they did not listen to me at all. It was only when my sister went up to the facility 4 days after I informed them of the problem they claim was the first they knew about the situation. I pointed out that everytime I've tried talking with them about anything recently they have seemed distracted and have made me feel dismissed. I guess that's because they were distracted and were dismissing me. And here I thought it might be all in my head.
Funny I spent the first 20 years of my life trying to become invisible. Now I'm fighting for people to notice and listen to me. Hmmmm. I guess I'm hard to please.
I think what helped me the most was that I started tracking the days I was visiting my mother or taking care of things for her. I primarily started that (and made one for my sister) to keep track of mileage and appointments, but it has become invaluable now because I can write on it what happened at each visit. When I was able to tell them how many times I was physically in their facility during the time period in question, what days I came in to talk about medications and when I delivered medications or needed supplies that helped make my case credible. We pointed out some huge holes in their communication and have come away with a plan which I hope will work. I really would hate to move my mother from this facility, but if these changes aren't made I see no other option.
Today the agreement was...
They will contact me if my mother refuses any medication.
They will make they give me a 10 day notice before her medications run out.
Any falls will be documented (as some have not been)
They will be better about communicating with each other and with us.
I will make appointments when I need to talk with them (I'm concerned about this given I often need to speak with them just after a medical appointment and never know when I will need to speak with them until the appointment is over. But I was told I can send an email and the director will receive it on her phone and will be able to accommodate me quickly. Here's hoping).
The Ombudsman will go back to the facility to make sure they are compliant with the plan and we will meet again in a month to see how things are going. My sister brought up that if there are problems with our mother's meds the facility should really be checking every resident's sheets to make sure they handling those appropriately Initially the directors were resistant, but the ombudsman said the expectation is that a problem has been brought to their attention and they are expected to implement the fixes facility wide.
Here's hoping in a month it's nothing but sunshine and rainbows again there.
And my mother is doing better today. She was still very delusional and agitated, but improved over the previous week when I picked her up. After her appointment she received her Haldol shot. About 30 minutes after that shot, she was smiling, the shakes had gone away and she was a million percent better. Here's hoping she doesn't start to tank as the shot wears off again. I guess if she does we know she can't handle 4 week intervals. And the doctor assured me that the issue with her Celexa (the drug she missed at least 9 times) wasn't causing the present issue. I'm not sure if I buy that completely, but at least it made me less worried about it.
I've been told many times that people have never seen such active family members when it comes to caring for a mentally ill or aging loved one. I find that sad, but understandable. This has caused me so much stress. I feel like it is chipping away at me. But since it hasn't destroyed me in 36 years of fighting that must mean I'm made of tougher stuff than schizophrenia is. My mother's illness has taught me to fight for what I believe in, so in some ways I should thank it, although I would really really rather not.
Monday, October 3, 2011
The Answer Doesn't Make Sense
Last Friday I told you about a situation that came up with my mother's assisted living facility (ALF). We discovered that a 30 day supply of medication lasted 39 days. The facility directors kept claiming they didn't know where the records from previous months were kept and that they'd have an answer for us on Monday (today 10/3/11).
Well the answer today was that my mother was refusing medication. Now I don't believe that for a second. My mother is convinced that if she doesn't take her meds she will go back to the hospital and she'll do anything to stay out of the hospital. Last week the Director, the Medical Director and one of the Med-Techs showed me the September medication log that showed only that she had not missed a pill the entire month of September. There was nothing on those sheets to indicate refusal of meds. This information was on some other mysterious daily notes log that could not be located until now. If she indeed refused 8 days of medications over the course of a month the family and the psychiatrist should have been notified and she would have been hospitalized. Plain and simple.
So today I was finally able to reach Norfolk APS who put me in touch with the Ombudsman for families communicating with ALF's. The Ombudsman agreed something wasn't adding up so he's meeting us at the facility for a meeting with the Medical Director on Thursday to get some answers. I'll let you all know how it goes.
But as it stands right now either way they have made a mistake, either through neglect, forgetting to give meds or just not keeping adequate records. This could have cost my mother her life. What a ridiculous bunch of people.
Friday, September 30, 2011
When You Have to Question Your Loved One's Care
This week has been especially tough for us. Not that any week is easy these days, but this was especially difficult. So I'll start from the beginning, but the basic message is always double check people. Even the best facility you put your loved one in has its flaws.
My mom has been living at an assisted living facility (ALF) since the end of May when she was released from the psychiatric hospital. My younger sister and I spent a great deal of time checking out facilities before placing our mother in one. We wanted to make sure she had the best care possible and this place looked like it was the best. They are clean and seem to genuinely care about the residents. It has the lowest resident to caregiver ratio of any facility we visited. The day we moved her in we were so relieved and confident we could do no better.
Mom has had a few falls. Every time until recently they've been able to explain what happened very quickly. We discovered her shoes were simply too loose and led to falls. I bought her new shoes and that seemed to solve the issue, although I am thinking of buying a slightly larger size because of a rub mark on her foot from them. But more than two weeks ago she had a fall. I was immediately told the next day by the Med-Tech on staff, but it had happened over the weekend and she did not know what exactly had happened. She only knew that mom had a bruise on her right elbow and was refusing to sleep in her bed. Mom said she was stuck in her bed somehow, but there was no incident report that could explain. Last Friday (9/23/11) my mom was finally able to tell me which Med-Tech helped her so I could get an explanation. Turns out she rolled out of bed the wrong way and got stuck between the wall and the bed. I didn't think to make sure the bed was flush against the wall, so I blame myself for it happening, but I'm angry no one could tell me what happened for two weeks.
But fast forward to this Monday (9/26/11). Mom had been acting strange so we had called the doctor to change her medication dosage on the previous Friday. He didn't sign the order (he was at home and couldn't sign the sheet) so he called the facility personally to ask them to change the dosage and he would get them the order corrected on Monday morning. On Monday I get a call telling me she's out of her anti-depressant Celexa. I told them I really didn't want to go up there that day as I was busy (and the events of the previous Friday made me really wanting to avoid my mother). But I was told she couldn't go without so I'd better get there fast. So I called her doctor and had them call it in and dropped everything to pick it up and get it there in time. But when I picked it up I started to think when did I last bring them this medication? Initially I looked at my phone calendar and thought they shouldn't be out of her pills for another week. Then I turned to my absolutely awesome organized notebook and discovered I had filled the previous prescription on 8/18/11, picked it up and delivered it to them on 8/19/11. She should have run out 9 day previous by my calculations. Why were they just now calling me? Is that why she's acting strange?
So I went up to the ALF and spoke with the director who told me she didn't know and the medical director was at the ER with a resident. She said she didn't know where the records were kept, but showed me the September record that indicated my mother hadn't missed a single dose for the month of September. I was promised a call on Tuesday once they could get the August record out to find out what happened. I discovered while there she had only two pills of her Aricept. They hadn't even mentioned she was low!
So I didn't get a call on Tuesday so I went up on Wednesday and demanded answers after taking my mother to her appointment with her psychiatrist (she was doing no better than she had been on the previous Friday).I was told the morning Med-Tech is the only one who knows where the records were kept and they had not had time to search for them, despite having 3 days in which to do so. They assured me an answer by Thursday morning. I mentioned that as Guardian I have to send a report to Adult Protective Services (APS) as required by my court appointed duties. I noticed a sudden change in the Medical Director's demeanor. They blew me off for 3 days and I think that's the first moment when she realized this wasn't going to just go away when I got busy or bored.
On Thursday morning I received no call so my younger sister (co-Guardian) headed up there to demand answers. They (the two directors) were angry that they had to answer both of us and still had no answers to give us because we were taking up the time they had to investigate. They must carry shovels with them everywhere they go to carry that around. They demanded to only have one of us speak to them. My sister quickly denied their request, and read them the riot act (did I mention she used to work in a nursing home and knows how they are supposed to do their jobs?). They started to lay blame with the morning Med-Tech, who knew nothing about it. But when my sister informed the Med-Tech they were trying to blame her the tech did say to my sister that she's never seen them get so upset about something so she's betting the problem will be resolved and will never happen again. We will see. The directors even tried to pit my sister and I against each other and claimed it was our miss-communication that was the problem. She just firmly informed them we communicate incredibly well and assured them the problem did not lie with us. I don't think I've ever been so impressed with my sister in my life as I was that day. I really wish I could have been there to see it.
The directors promised answers by the following Monday (a week after I brought the issue to their attention). Then on her way out my younger sister called the board in charge of ALF's to start an investigation.
Today we still have no answers and our mother's health is at stake. If they started the medication late her recent mental decline could be caused by the addition of this drug. If they were forgetting doses here and there that could be causing her mental decline. I contact Chesapeake APS since our Guardianship reports go to them. They told me how the procedure would work and that we had to contact Norfolk APS since they had jurisdiction. I left messages, but haven't heard back yet. The board in charge of ALFs has not returned my sister's messages either. My mother's psychiatrist has been informed and they are watching to make sure it is handled.
I hope my mom's ALF uses this as a learning experience. If a patient had died from their lack of proper medication protocols things would be far worse for them that what's going on now. But they seem genuinely shocked that a family member would notice a mistake, which to them seems small. I told my mother's case manager at the Community Services Board that the ALF must not realize who they are dealing with. I sued for Guardianship and Conservatorship without a lawyer and did a better job than a lot of lawyers do according to the judge. Do they really think they can get anything past me?
Now I'm demanding they count every pill out for me when I'm there and counting the calendar days to figure out how many pills they've used. I feel like I'm doing their job for them. I even bathed my mom for them on Wednesday because she was just gross (although I know she can be difficult to convince to bathe so I'm not holding that against them). I'm starting to wonder what exactly I pay them for. Mom's doctor at the psyche hospital warned us that he didn't see good outcomes for mental patients at this ALF. I'm starting to see what he was talking about. I'm really hoping that we can just get them to fix this problem and we can go back to trusting them. But trust is a hard thing to earn back.
I know that if my mother were able to understand what is going on, she would be thanking herself and my father every day for my expensive private grade school and public college education. Now if I could just get paid for my expertise we'd be all set.
My mom has been living at an assisted living facility (ALF) since the end of May when she was released from the psychiatric hospital. My younger sister and I spent a great deal of time checking out facilities before placing our mother in one. We wanted to make sure she had the best care possible and this place looked like it was the best. They are clean and seem to genuinely care about the residents. It has the lowest resident to caregiver ratio of any facility we visited. The day we moved her in we were so relieved and confident we could do no better.
Mom has had a few falls. Every time until recently they've been able to explain what happened very quickly. We discovered her shoes were simply too loose and led to falls. I bought her new shoes and that seemed to solve the issue, although I am thinking of buying a slightly larger size because of a rub mark on her foot from them. But more than two weeks ago she had a fall. I was immediately told the next day by the Med-Tech on staff, but it had happened over the weekend and she did not know what exactly had happened. She only knew that mom had a bruise on her right elbow and was refusing to sleep in her bed. Mom said she was stuck in her bed somehow, but there was no incident report that could explain. Last Friday (9/23/11) my mom was finally able to tell me which Med-Tech helped her so I could get an explanation. Turns out she rolled out of bed the wrong way and got stuck between the wall and the bed. I didn't think to make sure the bed was flush against the wall, so I blame myself for it happening, but I'm angry no one could tell me what happened for two weeks.
But fast forward to this Monday (9/26/11). Mom had been acting strange so we had called the doctor to change her medication dosage on the previous Friday. He didn't sign the order (he was at home and couldn't sign the sheet) so he called the facility personally to ask them to change the dosage and he would get them the order corrected on Monday morning. On Monday I get a call telling me she's out of her anti-depressant Celexa. I told them I really didn't want to go up there that day as I was busy (and the events of the previous Friday made me really wanting to avoid my mother). But I was told she couldn't go without so I'd better get there fast. So I called her doctor and had them call it in and dropped everything to pick it up and get it there in time. But when I picked it up I started to think when did I last bring them this medication? Initially I looked at my phone calendar and thought they shouldn't be out of her pills for another week. Then I turned to my absolutely awesome organized notebook and discovered I had filled the previous prescription on 8/18/11, picked it up and delivered it to them on 8/19/11. She should have run out 9 day previous by my calculations. Why were they just now calling me? Is that why she's acting strange?
So I went up to the ALF and spoke with the director who told me she didn't know and the medical director was at the ER with a resident. She said she didn't know where the records were kept, but showed me the September record that indicated my mother hadn't missed a single dose for the month of September. I was promised a call on Tuesday once they could get the August record out to find out what happened. I discovered while there she had only two pills of her Aricept. They hadn't even mentioned she was low!
So I didn't get a call on Tuesday so I went up on Wednesday and demanded answers after taking my mother to her appointment with her psychiatrist (she was doing no better than she had been on the previous Friday).I was told the morning Med-Tech is the only one who knows where the records were kept and they had not had time to search for them, despite having 3 days in which to do so. They assured me an answer by Thursday morning. I mentioned that as Guardian I have to send a report to Adult Protective Services (APS) as required by my court appointed duties. I noticed a sudden change in the Medical Director's demeanor. They blew me off for 3 days and I think that's the first moment when she realized this wasn't going to just go away when I got busy or bored.
On Thursday morning I received no call so my younger sister (co-Guardian) headed up there to demand answers. They (the two directors) were angry that they had to answer both of us and still had no answers to give us because we were taking up the time they had to investigate. They must carry shovels with them everywhere they go to carry that around. They demanded to only have one of us speak to them. My sister quickly denied their request, and read them the riot act (did I mention she used to work in a nursing home and knows how they are supposed to do their jobs?). They started to lay blame with the morning Med-Tech, who knew nothing about it. But when my sister informed the Med-Tech they were trying to blame her the tech did say to my sister that she's never seen them get so upset about something so she's betting the problem will be resolved and will never happen again. We will see. The directors even tried to pit my sister and I against each other and claimed it was our miss-communication that was the problem. She just firmly informed them we communicate incredibly well and assured them the problem did not lie with us. I don't think I've ever been so impressed with my sister in my life as I was that day. I really wish I could have been there to see it.
The directors promised answers by the following Monday (a week after I brought the issue to their attention). Then on her way out my younger sister called the board in charge of ALF's to start an investigation.
Today we still have no answers and our mother's health is at stake. If they started the medication late her recent mental decline could be caused by the addition of this drug. If they were forgetting doses here and there that could be causing her mental decline. I contact Chesapeake APS since our Guardianship reports go to them. They told me how the procedure would work and that we had to contact Norfolk APS since they had jurisdiction. I left messages, but haven't heard back yet. The board in charge of ALFs has not returned my sister's messages either. My mother's psychiatrist has been informed and they are watching to make sure it is handled.
I hope my mom's ALF uses this as a learning experience. If a patient had died from their lack of proper medication protocols things would be far worse for them that what's going on now. But they seem genuinely shocked that a family member would notice a mistake, which to them seems small. I told my mother's case manager at the Community Services Board that the ALF must not realize who they are dealing with. I sued for Guardianship and Conservatorship without a lawyer and did a better job than a lot of lawyers do according to the judge. Do they really think they can get anything past me?
Now I'm demanding they count every pill out for me when I'm there and counting the calendar days to figure out how many pills they've used. I feel like I'm doing their job for them. I even bathed my mom for them on Wednesday because she was just gross (although I know she can be difficult to convince to bathe so I'm not holding that against them). I'm starting to wonder what exactly I pay them for. Mom's doctor at the psyche hospital warned us that he didn't see good outcomes for mental patients at this ALF. I'm starting to see what he was talking about. I'm really hoping that we can just get them to fix this problem and we can go back to trusting them. But trust is a hard thing to earn back.
I know that if my mother were able to understand what is going on, she would be thanking herself and my father every day for my expensive private grade school and public college education. Now if I could just get paid for my expertise we'd be all set.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
So if there were any doubt the title of my blog rings true...
Being Guardian for your mother is always a challenge. No way to make it easy. It isn't something that you just fit in here and there as you have time. It's pretty much a full time job. Thankfully I have my younger sister to share the responsibility, but still it's difficult.
Today was one of those difficult days.
It was a good day for my mom. She was mentally alert and able to understand directions and answer questions. She saw her eye doctor this morning and she seemed to really understand what was going on. Those have been rare so I really love the days where she is truly present.
Of course things must be equaled out by administrative garbage. Because of the assisted living center's rules I must provide a prescription for everything a doctor wants to have them do. Artificial Tears, Tylenol, antibiotic ointment, lip balm you name it requires a prescription. This has been a challenge because many of the doctors are moving to electronic prescriptions. I now have to get them to write out scripts to give to the assisted living. Just an extra step. Mom has one doctor who consistently refuses to sign things because he feels a print out should be good enough. And it isn't so I have to deal with it all when I get mom back to the facility.
Well today I was informed after 3 months of her living there that the doctor not only needs to write a prescription for any drug changes the doctors also have to write what condition they are giving the drug for on the prescription. Since the doctors don't routinely do it, despite the medical director claiming it was regulations, I had to hear about how they should know this. Like I can do anything about the knowledge contents of their brains. And I hear this over and over from BOTH SIDES! What crazy conflicting regulations are they citing? Oh, yeah, that's right. I'm in Virginia. Of course it's a mess!
They must just think everyone is psychic. Well, sorry guys. My psychic ability is in the shop. I don't think it will be fixed anytime soon.
Plus I've been hearing about for months how the doctors also have to sign their med order sheets. I don't know why a prescription with his/her signature isn't good enough, but apparently it isn't. And I was hearing about how she's been faxing it off for months to try to get my mom's doctor to sign it. Well the doctor was the one she saw in the hospital and doesn't see her anymore. And didn't prescribe half the drugs on the sheet. Of course he's not going to sign it. She tried mom's other doctors. The primary doctor won't sign it because the list includes medications from the psychiatrist and the psychiatrist won't sign it because it includes medications he didn't prescribe. It all makes me want to scream! Is it really that hard? I don't blame the doctors. I get why they won't sign it, but geez y'all need to get it together and make something work!
So if you ever doubted why I named my blog "Everyone's a Little Bit Crazy" doubt no more. Although I'm starting to think I should rename it "Everyone's a Whole Heap of Crazy."
Well, maybe someone in the world is completely sane. If I find him or her I'll let you know. Don't hold your breath.
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