thejunipertree | (no subject)

Some days, I swear to God and all that is holy, I feel like I'm going to wind up on a rooftop. Dressed in a pink ballgown. Holding a semi-automatic rifle.

Today happens to be one of those days.
And if I knew where the office was for Amerihealth, I'd go a-visiting. Sonsofbitches.

Why on earth does one approve a feeding tube surgery, but only give approval for TEN DAYS of use for said feeding tube?

Also of shit, receiving a phone call this morning at half past eight whose sole purpose is to inform me that TODAY is the last day Amerihealth will cover my mother being in the nursing facility.

Brrrt. Wha-what?!

Now I've managed to spend most of my day making phone calls and attempting to wrangle some form of continual nursing/housing for her. In between bouts of furious sobbing at my desk.

I just don't know what to do any more. She can't come home. Not in the condition she is in (remember the other day when I thought things were getting a little better, I thought wrong, silly fucking optimistic me). We don't have the room in our apartment for any kind of aparatus. She's unable to take care of even the most basic of her own needs. I am unable to be there twenty four hours a day for her. Hell, I'm unable to be there for her even 12 hours a day. (Not only that, but I would most likely attempt matricide if it was solely my responsibility to care for her, things are bad enough as it is and it's not even completely on me.)

She needs to be in some sort of twenty four hour a day nursing facility. A nurse friend of mine recommended this inpatient hospice place, which I swiftly called, but I was informed that they only accept people who are diagnosed with TEN DAYS OR LESS to live.

I'm not even going to comment on that.

Then I spoke to the nursing home, who told me that for her to stay there, she needs to apply for (and receive) Medicaid. That swept me into another round of phone calls and message leaving, NONE OF WHOM called me back. Pigfuckers.

Say it with me: PIGFUCKERS!

I don't know what to do and precious few people understand. A long time ago, I joined a cancer patient caregivers support e-list. Posted an introductory message and nothing else. I can't post to it. Shit, I can barely even read it half the time. It's far too depressing. And as I am already heartily depressed 95% of my waking day, I don't need any more.

The only things which keep me sane these days are my friends and The Engineer. And maybe the ferrets. They're like cheap therapy, the weasels are.

This can't keep going on. It just can't.