Still smoking? I'm begging you, please consider this possible future...

Yesterday was Thanksgiving Day. I spent it with a friend and her family. One of them asked me about my mom and I broke down. It was a thoroughly humiliating experience. I dread meeting new people now. I am consumed by such overwhelming grief, bewilderment and rage I can hardly keep it together.

My friend and I stopped by the nursing home to see my mom, and she kept nodding off while we were talking to her. She is also bruising more easily, having a lot more trouble breathing and seeping blood from her damaged foot and bedsores. The last time she exhibited these symptoms, she wound up being severely anemic. They had to give her three pints of blood. I have been hounding the staff at the nursing home to order a blood test for over a week now, but they won't do one until the 1st of December.

While I was at the nursing home today, mom had no less than three breathing treatments in the six-hour period I was there. She is supposed to have one every four hours, that's how compromised her breathing was. Then, she bumped her bad foot into the wall, and blood started dripping out of her bandage. I ran around trying to get someone to change it for her. They are going to wrap her toes with more gauze, but they aren't going to change her bandage until tomorrow. There were tears in my mom's eyes from the pain, and fear in her eyes from the shortness of breath. It's like I'm standing in front of her while somebody smothers her with a pillow and there's not a damn thing I can do about it. She watches while I sit at the foot of her bed and sob and tell her I'm sorry because I can't help her. I can't make her breathe better, no matter what I do.

I'm telling you now. If you smoke, quit. If you care about yourself or the people you love even one tiny bit, quit. Now. Don't wait for the perfect day to do it. There is no perfect day to do it. My mom says when she tries to breathe, it feels like she has a sponge in her lungs. She can't move any air, and it terrifies her. There is nothing about smoking that makes it worth your while. It is a dirty, filthy, expensive, life-sucking habit with no health benefits whatsoever, and to take a chance that you will be one of the extremely rare few that will suffer no noticeable ill effects until the day you die is not worth it. That's what my mom used to think. She doesn't think that way now, and now, it is much too late.

Nobody Deserves This, But My Mom Certainly Doesn't...

I have never been so angry and so terrified in all of my life. I just found out that my mom may be losing her other foot. I am also fighting a losing battle to make sure that she is cared for properly. My mom now has two pressure sores. One of the employees told me that it's because my mom is so uncooperative. "We tell her to prop her leg up, and she won't leave it long enough. We tell her she can't sit in her power chair too long, but she won't let us put her in the bed. She's been having a rough day, she was crying and carrying on this morning..."

Now, it's not like everything else wasn't already getting my attention mind you, but my mom is not a person who cries and carries on. I asked her if she had been crying. She said yes, that she had wet the bed that morning and made a terrible mess. I told her it wasn't her fault, that they're supposed to be helping her before it gets to that point. We have both also made it very clear to the staff that she is allergic to the elastic in the briefs, yet they continue to put her in them. By the time I got there on Monday, her legs were burning so bad she was crying out in distress. She's an amputee for crying out loud, if she could do everything herself, she would!

Mom said she needed to go to the bathroom. The aide told her, "just go ahead and wet the bed, it's easier that way." I know that it's very difficult for my mom to breathe when she exerts herself, but that's no excuse to not take her to the bathroom. I watched as my once very independent mother wet the sheets, the urine spreading and quickly soaking her clean underwear and shorts before I could get them out of the way...

You have no idea what it's doing to me to see her like this. When she was at home, I did everything: cooking, physical therapy, dispensing medication, keeping her clean, and also importantly, making sure that she was happy. If she wanted to watch something on TV, or wanted a book, or needed anything, I made sure she had it. Now that her medical needs are beyond my capabilities to handle, I'm watching in horror as she resigns herself to her fate in a place that only cares about her paycheck. There are some employees there that genuinely care about her, but caring about somebody and actually caring for them are two different things.

She's deteriorating. Medicare only pays for a certain amount of physical therapy and the state doesn't pay for any. All of the strength she had gained, she has lost. Her left arm is so weak it is almost useless. When she went into the hospital at the end of March, we never expected that it would be the last time she would ever be in her home again. She has never been away from home for this long. We miss each other very much, and it's killing me to see what's happening to her. Nobody deserves this, but especially not her. My gods mom, I am so very sorry that I have failed you...

Fairbanks Capital Corporation Ruined Our Lives

With my brother holding the rein on mom's finances, she blew threw her retirement fund without setting any of it aside. Before she knew it, the entire thing was gone, her bills were seriously in arrears, and her property taxes were three years behind. She was about to lose her house, so mom got in contact with Fairbanks Capital Corporation.

She did this on her own, mind you, and since I had never dealt with any kind of home loans before, I was too stupid to know that they didn't have her best interests at heart. A friend had to take her all the way down to Chicago to sign the papers. They gave her at least three times more money than she actually needed with a variable interest rate attached, even though they knew she only had Medicare retirement as an income. That was eight years ago. Her check came on the third Wednesday of the month. The payment coupon dates were always conveniently due before she got her check. They wanted us to double up a payment to be a month ahead, but we were unable to do that, so they started tacking on the late fees.

Catholic Charities wanted to go after them for Elder Abuse on mom's behalf, but they had just stopped going after major loan companies. I called a lawyer on mom's behalf. They gave me some cock and bull story about how the company didn't do anything wrong. My mom recently had her loan refinanced at a fixed rate, but the damage has already been done. Not only do we owe more than we did eight years ago, my mom's health has deteriorated to the point that I can no longer handle her medical needs at home. Once she was placed in a nursing home, my disability check couldn't stretch far enough to make the loan payments. Now we are facing foreclosure, all because of a loan she never should have been given in the first place.

They took advantage of my mom when she was at her most vulnerable, and we are going to lose everything: the home that was built for us in 1972, a lifetime of belongings, everything. The house is due to go in to foreclosure this Saturday, November 27th. Happy Thanksgiving. Happy Holidays. Yeah right. When they come to kick me out of the house, I'm walking in front of a train.

I Have Absolutely No Idea What In The Hell I'm Doing

An internet full of people and no one to talk to. When a keystroke falls in cyberspace, does it make an impact? What in the hell does it take to make a ripple in the world wide web pond? It is the most maddening experience ever! It's like screaming for help in a soundproof room that's right next to a busy street. Like jumping up and down and waving your arms in the dead of night when no one can see you. You keep screaming "I'm right here, can't you see me?!" and everyone goes right on by. What on earth does it take to get through to anyone on this thing?!

Roomates

My mom has the middle bed in a room with two other patients. I have requested the bed by the window for her numerous times. Every time they change her roommates, they never put her by the window. They also have a tendency to stick some real winners in with my mom.

Right now she's being bullied by a woman with late-stage Alzheimer's. This woman goes through mom's dresser drawers, eats her mixed nuts and finger paints feces all over the room. On more than one occasion, she has smeared feces all over the bathroom, making it unusable. I know she can't help it, but they need to have someone watching this woman. It is not my mother's job to babysit her. She's got her own problems. If my mom says anything to this woman about going through her stuff, she gets mad and waves her off.

One of her roommates was epileptic. When this young woman had a seizure, it scared Mom to death. She shot out into the hall on her power chair to get help, and to get away. She had never seen anyone have a seizure before. Then there was the roommate that died. Mom was in her own bed when the paramedics came and tried to revive this woman. She is being traumatized by all of these unpleasant experiences and it's all my fault. If I were not suffering from depression, post-traumatic stress disorder, panic disorder and anxiety disorder, I could have a job or two where I would make enough money to get her the hell out of there. I'm such a disappointment. Such a failure...

When the Credit Union takes this house, I've already made up my mind. I will not be homeless. I will die first. Depending on how long the foreclosure proceedings take, I've got about that long to live. Life has been kicking my ass since I was born. I have suffered every form of abuse from men that I trusted: physical, sexual, emotional, psychological and verbal. I have fought tooth and nail to believe in myself for just a second longer to find the strength to keep going. I have an order of protection against the only brother that I have. My dad passed away in 2008 from liver disease. My family has been demolished, and now this. I've always been able to fix everything. I can't fix this, and there just isn't any point to anything anymore.

Nursing Home Hell

No nursing home will ever take care of your loved ones the way that you do. The homes are understaffed and the employees overextended. Your loved one will become just another patient on the floor that demands time that they don't have.

Within the first week of Mom's admission, a brand new set of pajamas disappeared. Then a new shirt, then a pair of shorts. I started taking her laundry home out of necessity because we couldn't afford to lose anymore of her clothes. Even though you put labels with their name inside the clothing, the staff never reads them. If those clothes will fit another patient of theirs who needs it, they use it without hesitation. If the clothes are particularly nice, they will steal them.

The nursing home asked me to bring her bedside commode from the house for her to use. Although it was clearly labeled with Mom's name, it was packed up with a roommate's belongings when she passed away. They still haven't found it, nor have they replaced any of the clothing she lost.

Mom takes two different water pills, so obviously, she needs to go to the bathroom quite often. She would press the button for assistance, but many times they would get to her too late. The urine soaked clothes were put in a clear plastic trash bag. Unfortunately, so were her dry clothes. By the time I would pick up her clothes to take home, the entire bag of garments was soaked with urine.

If her clothes are clean after one wearing, they crumple them up in a ball instead of hanging them back up, or worse yet, put them in with the urine-soaked clothes. I have two very politely worded well-written signs on her clothes armoire. They are ignored 99% of the time.

Worst of all, this nursing home has a smoking program for it's residents. My mom was a two to three pack a day smoker for over fifty years. She finally managed to quit in October of 2008. In July, I found out that she approached an employee with money for a pack of cigarettes, and they went out and bought them for her. Despite the fact that a) she was a nonsmoker when she entered their facility b) she's on oxygen c) she gets four breathing treatments a day d) she takes Advair e) she's on steroids to reduce the inflammation in her lungs f) she's missing her right leg below the knee and in danger of losing the other leg due to the poor circulation caused by and aggravated by her lifelong habit...

These people went out and got the one thing for my mother that put her in their nursing home in the first place, then gave me some lame-ass excuse about smoker's rights and how they were obligated by law to do as she asked. I trusted these people to take care of my mother, to put her health first. Be warned, they did this and kept it a secret from me as well as her doctor. I called him up, crying my eyes out. He went to the nursing home and ripped them a new one on our behalf.

I don't give a damn what anyone says...they had no right to do that as sick as she is. If they want to go buy their own critically-ill mothers the one thing that's killing them, then so be it, but they need to keep their damn smoker's rights bullshit the hell away from my mother. She's been through enough, she's going through enough, and I'm already going to lose her a lot sooner than I would have in the first place.

If this place wasn't within walking distance, she would have been so out of there. I hate leaving her there. I cry every time I get home because I miss her so much, and I know they will never care for her the way that I did. I never would have gone out and bought her those wretched things, because I actually give a damn about what happens to her. I swear...it's like they want to ensure that she will never be able to improve her health enough to leave there...because they would lose a lot of money if she did... 

So Much Stuff...

When my mom's doctor decided to put mom in a nursing home permanently, it was devastating to the both of us. If I were able to care for her on my own at this point, she would be at home. Everyone always tells me you can get Home Health Care. What they fail to understand is, Medicare only pays for these people to come twice a week at the most, and after six months they're done. My mom needs medical supervision and care that I am not capable of providing 24 hours a day.

Before she got sicker, I was already going from sunup to sundown and beyond. I provided her meals, personal hygiene care, dispensed her medicine, flushed wounds, changed bandages twice a day, and physical therapy. It was not unusual to be awakened by sounds of distress in the middle of the night because she had another muscle cramp that needed to be massaged away.

Our house did not make caring for her any easier. It has been severely neglected over the years. There was so much violence and chaos in this house, we were too busy just trying to survive to concentrate on remodeling or repairing. The house is also not handicap accessible. Our "wheelchair ramp" is actually a ramp from a truck that somebody nailed to our porch. It was barely wide enough to accommodate her chair, and you have to back the chair down. I nearly dumped Mom out into our gravel driveway on more than one occasion trying to maneuver that chair down the ramp.

We have a step up into the house, so I eased her chair backwards over it to get her out of the house. It put her at a sharp angle, which made her very nervous. To get in, I had to pop a steep wheelie with her chair, then lift the back end up to get her in. Very dangerous, but it couldn't be helped.

Mom and Dad also kept everything and taught my brother and I to do the same. The house is a mess. The basement is full of a lifetime of things thrown everywhere. The upstairs isn't as bad as it was, thanks to the help of an Aunt and a Cousin. They live very far away and were only able to stay for four days. I haven't been able to find any help since. With the magnitude of stuff to go through, I would need a dumpster to throw things away in. They're very expensive, and with a good forty years of accumulation to sort, there's no way I'm going to get it done all by myself...especially with this foreclosure looming over my head.

I have until the 27th to come up with nearly 1500 dollars, and there's not a snowball's chance in hell of that happening. There are holes in the walls from things being thrown and from my brother's fist. The walls are stained with nicotine, dusty, filthy and dotted with cobwebs. The kitchen floor is warped from the refrigerator leaking.

There is a huge hole in the shower wall that is covered with a garbage bag. It has been that way for nearly thirty years. A friend of my brothers fell into the tub and busted the hole in the wall when he was drunk. He refused to pay for it. My dad and brother also refused to pay for it, so they taped a garbage bag over it and never fixed it. If the Credit Union takes the house in this condition, there is no way it is going to sell. If by some miracle it did, Mom would never get full price for it. It's going to sit empty, and I will be homeless for nothing.