Today is a dark and chilly fall day. Rain coming in soon. It's so quiet in my house I swear I can hear my cats purring upstairs while I'm downstairs in the dining room. I feel like I'm in a fog...every day my dad calls me when he gets to the nursing home and I get a chance to talk with my mom. It's the same conversation every single time.
Dad: BJ, here's mom.
Mom: Hi Honey. Are you at your work?
Me: Yes, mom. How are you feeling today?
Mom: Oh, I'm okay. Except for that awful writing on the wall...I read on the wall that they are going to kick me out of here. I don't know where I'll be when you come in again, honey. Why won't they let me go home? I just want to go home so bad...please, honey, just go to tell them that it's time for me to go home, okay?
Me: Now mom, nobody is going to kick you out of there. You are safe. We would love more than anything to have you go home but, Mom, we can't take care of you without help.
Mom: Uh huh. How are your kitties?
Me: They are all fine, mom.
Mom: Okay, honey, I don't want to keep you away from your job. I'll give you back to daddy.
Me: Okay, mom. I love you.
Mom: I love you, too.
Dad: Okay, we'll talk later this evening.
Me: Take care of yourself, daddy.
Dad: Right. Bye.
Those calls only come on days when she's at least somewhat clear and lucid. Her hallucinations are getting progressively worse...again. Sometimes they frighten her. And, the hallucinations come on semi-lucid days. I hate to think what she goes through on the bad days...the days when we just flat out can't reach her.
There was no call today. I guess it was a bad day.