Apparently, Competency Means Different Things To Different People

I’ve been busting my butt lately to get me activated as my mom’s POA.
I love her, but she is not capable of making her own decisions anymore. She doesn’t know what year it is, who is president, what her wedding dress looked like, who I am (sometimes), or what she had for breakfast. She doesn’t remember that we were there twice this past week. She does nothing besides what she has to do (eat and whatnot) and watch Animal Planet. If I asked her what medications she was on, she would look at me with a confused look. If I asked her when the last time she was at the hospital, she would have no idea. If I asked her how many times she has gotten out of bed in the last week, she would have no clue. I could keep going on and on and on.
So, I requested a competency test from her psychiatrist, through her nurse at the nursing home. I mean, I am not asking him to sign something with no proof, I want him to come in and talk to her and evaluate her, like HE IS FUDGING SUPPOSED TO!!! Well, he apparently called the nurse back and I quote “doesn’t think that she is sick enough to start a competency hearing”. This was after I was told that her doctor would be in and I sat and waited for an hour to find out that she, in fact, was not going to be there.

This is what woke me up this morning. I had glorious plans of slowly waking up, stretching, enjoying the sunshine coming in, and getting up and being awesomely relaxed and getting some stuff done before getting my paycheck and curling up the rest of the evening with hubby.

It ruined my slow wake up and ruined my positive mood to start my day. Oh, and I am out of happy meds, so I have to go get those today. So I couldn’t even chemically induce my brain to be positive.

So, I sent my hubby to take a nap (he didn’t get home until 4ish and then the kid woke him up at 6), and started cleaning. To be fair, my apartment really does need a good cleaning, but I wanted to do it with a breezy attitude and some dancing, not with a scowl and mumbled swear words.

I am going to take a deep breath, clean my hallway, take a bath, get dressed, and go get my paycheck and pick up a couple of things, including my happy pills. Then, I think I am going to call and get this psychiatrist’s number and stare at it until I can decide if I am calmed down enough to talk to him yet or if I should wait until Monday. A daughter calling him and being incoherently rambling is not going to help anything. Then, after making that decision I am either going to clean to get out more anger or lose myself in a book or a mindless TV marathon compliments of Netflix. Maybe I’ll bake a cake or dream about my hermit-alpaca lifestyle. I really don’t know.

AHHHH!!!!!!! Normally writing helps, apparently this time I am too frustrated/angry. I don’t like being angry, it makes me cry. *sigh* Definitely time to go get more shit done.

At least my apartment smells like peaches, I get paid today, and the weather is gorgeous. See?! Optimism! Oh, and I will probably get an amazing iced latte at work when I pick up my check! See? Caffeine!

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