Transcript from Mom’s Call

Phone message, 8 pm

“Hi Karen, this is your mother. Your father showed me the article you sent him about Karin Vogel. I never saw the spelling of your name like that before. Who sent you this article? When I talk to you next time, if I forget, remind me I wanted to ask you what a smart phone is, and I see all these people get online with – I forgot what it’s called again - what do they call those crazy connections on the internet – I know you know you have to use a smart phone. But what is a smart phone? We’re kind of backwards.”

“Today I got a manager from one of the home care agencies. I found that one by dialing a wrong number; I thought I was dialing a retirement home. She said “I don’t have anything to with a retirement home, but I have a home care agency.” She sounded very nice, very informative. Your father didn’t want to see anybody so I never did see her. But I called her and asked her if she would come down and talk to us today. And she did, we gave her no decision, have to play around with it a little bit and see what we can come up with.”

“She would like somebody to come in and help organize the house, and maybe I can get some of those boxes away. I keep tripping over them, I hate looking at all those boxes. He keeps coming in and depositing everything he shops for and leaving it all over the place. Hard to move the walker around, so I wind up not using it, and that’s not a good idea. She thinks we need at least 4 hours several times a week, we don’t think so. I don’t have the time anyhow, between running to the doctor and having a nurse come here every week; they’re still doing that. They changed the nurse because I told the case manager I couldn’t understand the one I had and she was making a lot of mistakes handling the pills. Sidney keeps saying he can do it, but he is not up to doing it yet. His shoulder still bothers him and he’s still taking pain killer, he may need another shot . . .” (message cut off, time limit reached).

Should I laugh? Should I cry? Both? Can someone please call her back so I don’t have to?

Re-entry to Reality

My cell phone just rang with a mystery San Diego area code, and I answered it to find my parents’ neighbor informing me that fire trucks are all over their house and it looks chaotic. My brain goes into “okay, this is the inevitable crisis, I knew this was coming, at least it didn’t happen while I was out of the country.” I profusely thank her, then call my mother to find out that their smoke alarm doesn’t work properly and they’re getting an inspection. She’s fine, he’s fine, and they are still hiding out in suburban hell, refusing care and relocation.
Update: the back story. There was a coupon for a free alarm installation -- but Mom apparently called the wrong number and got emergency response instead. And hey, it was a slow day so the firemen spent a few hours fixing things. They noted their address for future visits -- sensing that in all likelihood they would be returning soon.