Mom's Home and I'm Alive

I'm kinda wondering how I'm alive today. Someone commented on a previous post about how much sodium there is in jerky, which I ate as an entire meal on Monday. So I got to thinking about all the sodium I've consumed in the last two days alone, and according to the nutritional information on the sides of the packages, I've had between 1200-1400 per cent of my recommended daily intake. Between the jerky, the entire jug of V8, the bag of Gardetto's snack mix, and the McD.'s french fries, it is difficult to accept that I'm still here. And I was worried about choking on an oxygen absorbing packet. Bah!

In other news, my mother is home from the hospital now, but she shouldn't be. I went to get her last night, and nothing has changed with her psychological condition. They put her on Prozac, let her do some arts and crafts, and called it a day. I'm pissed but don't know where to go now. It's back to square one, and to be honest, I'm ready to wash my hands of it all. I was not impressed with the hospital for numerous reasons:

1. They never knew who my mom was. They gave me information about other patients twice because of the "mix-up."

2. Even though I was on her list to release information, nobody released anything. Personally, I don't think they knew anything to release. It's their way of playing dumb.

3. The physicians never would respond to my calls. There was always an excuse--they weren't in, they weren't around, etc. I finally got a social worker to call me yesterday, and even he didn't know what was going on with her care except that she did talk about her psychotic issues in group sessions and he didn't think she should come home "for awhile." An hour later he called and said, "Well, I guess the doctor is releasing her today after all." Geesh.

4. The physicians did not put her on an anti-psychotic drug. Whereas the anti-depressant will surely help, they did not even get to the heart of the matter. I'm no doctor, but even the CMHS rep. said she needed a good anti-psychotic.

5. They would not even change mom's bed sheets. She had blood from her elbow on them. On my way out from a visit, I inquired at the desk and they said they leave it up to the patients. Like they couldn't get off of their fat rumps and change sheets for those in their care.

I could go on and on. I just can't believe this is protocol behavior for such a professional place of health. It's as if my mom went on a little six day vacation (she loved the food and the people) and is now back home, resuming her closed-up lifestyle. And she's really upset that this set her back $3500. If it would have done her any good, like I thought when we made the decision to have her sent there, I wouldn't disagree with the cost one bit. But I feel like she's been cheated all around. And all it's produced is more ambivalence toward the family.

And. To top it all off. She met guys in the ward who she has grown close to. Some of them were released before she was, and they called her there to leave messages for her! She's considering letting one guy live with her ("he seems all right") and she's calling up another guy to go ride his Harley.

Can you believe that crap? I guess they can't prevent her from communicating with others, but establishing such close relationships with others who are in no better mental condition than she is just bordering crazy.

And I've been trying to avoid using that term.