Red lobster... and I ain't talking about the restaurant

Ah, Memorial Day weekend! What a great time! You put white back into your wardrobe (if it ever left); you go buy yet another new grill (it's a guy thing, apparently); and, if weather permits, you putz around the yard, clean up the front porch, and hop into the pool. That first dip of the weekend cools you off, soaks away all your stress- AND BURNS YOU TO A CRISP! Well, maybe not YOU, but I look like a cooked lobster with a weight problem.

No swimming for me for a few days. Just as well. Tomorrow is Mama's 79th birthday and we are bringing her home on a pass to celebrate the occasion. Not that she is in much of a mood to celebrate.

I have been trying to gently let her know that she will not be coming "home" to our home; her health is too precarious and her needs are greater than I can meet. Dave and I have discussed her condition with the doctor, and we are all in accord that the time has come for her to move to assisted living. Note that I did not say "old folks home", "nursing home" or "poor-house".

Dave and I went to investigate one of the two facilities in our town and both of us were massively impressed with it. The facility is beyond beautiful, it's downright posh- CLEAN, open, airy, richly decorated, with lots of natural light and a lovely central courtyard with a well-kept garden.

We were shown three different apartments, all of which were very nice, indeed. The apartments vary in size but feature the same basic staples: a sitting room, a small kitchenette, a commodious bedroom with large walk-in closet and a bathroom designed for the elderly. Rent includes three meals a day, either in the dining-room or in her apartment, housekeeping, laundry, transportation to shopping and/or doctor appointments, a wide range of activities that are entirely discretionary, and, of course, assistance. She will have assistance with her medications and hygiene. There is a nurse on staff as well as a dietitian/nutritionist.

We were both so relieved when we saw how nice it is. There were three or four residents conversing in a communal sitting room when we arrived. We were shown the dining room, communal TV room, beauty parlor, ice-cream parlor, and several meeting/game rooms, as well as the aforementioned courtyard garden. So NOT what we thought assisted living would be like.

There is a waiting list, of course, so we put Mama's name on it. Dave actually expected that we would get a call about a vacancy within a week. Silly man. I knew better. We were told that three units are about to be vacated, one due to relocation, one due to health problems that were beyond the scope of assisted living- and one death. In Dave's mind, that meant the rooms would be available, like, NOW! Kinda lets you know how removed from the real world the business world is.

The plan, I thought, was that we weren't going to tell Mama about the plans to move her until we had some concrete information, and until AFTER her birthday, which I didn't want spoiled. In his infinite wisdom, he "suggested" to her yesterday that assisted living was a possible scenario for her future. Don't ask me why he told her off-schedule. Everything with Dave is on a need-to-know basis, and I never seem to need to know.

She reacted very well, I thought. She has been complaining that she wants her own apartment for some time, so I am sure that a part of her was interested, if not excited, about the idea. Still, Mama doesn't like change, so I didn't expect her to be enthusiastic and was pleasantly surprised that she not only seemed to grasp the necessity of the arrangement, but seemed fairly anticipatory. She especially perked up when she learned she can have her own furniture and things (the apartments are unfurnished) and can decorate anyway she pleases. She can come and go as she pleases as well- no day passes required.

We left her in an upbeat mood. I asked Dave why he had told her before her birthday that she "might not" be coming back to our house, and he said his upcoming travel schedule was the impetus. He didn't want me to have to be the one to prepare her for the move. How thoughtful, I thought- though if the call about the apartment comes while he is gone, I will be HANDLING the move.

So, we went to see her today and the nurse met us in the hall. Seems Mama started the day by packing all her stuff, insisting she was going home, and bursting into tears. She carried on the whole morning about our "putting her in a home" and abandoning her, and snubbed us when we walked in. We tried to cheer her up, reminding her about tomorrow and the party, but she was in a foul mood. "Just shoot me," she kept saying. "I'm ready for the bone-yard". She continued in this mode for some time, but Dave finally got her attention re-directed, and we parted on good terms. She walked us to the door.

She will have a good time at her party tomorrow and then will make a painful scene when the time comes to return to the Life Care Center. Poor old thing, I do feel for her but I wish she would have a little faith in us. When in the past seven years that she has lived here have we ever abandoned, forgotten or neglected her? Before her husband Paul died, she saw us maybe twice a year. Since his death, with increasingly rare exceptions, she has had our company 4-5 times a week (when she had her own place the first time) and daily since she moved in with us. Believe me, she has not lacked for company or care since.

Maybe next week, we will take her to see the place. More likely, I will take her to see the place. I just hope she doesn't make a scene when I do. It's all so stressful. Too bad I won't be able to jump into the pool to de-stress for the next few days. What's an overweight lobster to do?