The last we spoke, dear friend, I reported that I was at my mother’s;  a nurse had been sent over after my mother had an unfortunate accident leading to a fall and the nurse was sent to do an evaluation; she submitted her report. When I subsequently spoke to the case manager at the long term care, I learned that there is nothing subjective that occurs in the writing or interpretation of the nurse’s observation. We are dealing with a checklist. Remember I thought for sure that this was going to be a turning point, this fall and hospitalization?

Not quite.

We are now officially through the looking glass, where life remains distorted and backwards. We saw the mirror over the mantle and looked into it. We saw ourselves and thought, “this person is doing the best that can be. This person is trying so hard to solve unending issues.” We leaned closer to the mirror and saw such fatigue reflected back at us, years of fatigue. But, we leaned a little too close and got sucked in; we are now on the other side of the mirror and trying to make sense of it all.

 

Life is in reverse.

 

  The Jabberwock

Jabberwocky

Twas bryllyg, and the slythy toves
Did gyre and gymble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves;
And the mome raths outgrabe.

Beware the Jabberwock my son …

When dealing with the Jabberwock, we deal with words and more words that have meanings that do not make sense. For example, in this case, the older one gets the less one needs.

Every six months the person behind the looking glass must jump through hoops to supply data to show that the client who receives goods and services from Medicaid needs those goods and services. My mother wears “pull-ups,” they have to be approved. The doctor has to request incontinence wear. My mother drinks Ensure. The doctor must indicate that a ninety-nine year old woman who weighs about eighty-four pounds and who is a poor eater, needs Ensure. The said M.D. who tends to my mother, is oft inaccessible and paperwork is dumped on his nurse, and secretary, a young woman who, if spoken to on the phone is frequently near tears tending to the overload of knocking at the door by a line of nonagenarians. I now have to bug the crap out of this poor woman to get the paperwork to the managed care to get the Ensure for the ninety-nine year old woman who weighs eighty-four pounds because she needs the Ensure. And if she gains weight, they ask, “well why does she need the Ensure, she is a good weight?” “BECAUSE she drinks the Ensure.”

Next, I have to bug the crap out of the same woman, to submit the needed documentation, from the doctor, however, the doctor is M.I.A. when it comes to paperwork, as previously stated, and without the paperwork, my mother is likely not going to be able to get the extra help she needs. How many months have I been dealing with this?

My friends, this is but an example of Jabberwocky. But, don’t go away. There is more.

 

Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum

Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum

Tweedledum and Tweedledee
Agreed to have a battle;
For Tweedledum said Tweedledee
Had spoiled his nice new rattle.

Just then flew down a monstrous crow*,
As black as a tar-barrel;
Which frightened both the heroes so,
They quite forgot their quarrel.

 

Have you ever been so embroiled in a situation, a situation that never seems to end, that keeps you up at night, that eats away at you? A situation that is so nonsensical, that requires so much time and thought that you begin to doubt your sanity? I must apologize, as I feel I have gone daft. Nothing makes sense: it makes no sense why a ninety-nine year old woman is going through these events, and why everyone around her has to be impacted. What does make sense is that people who are in need should get what they need. However, we are not dealing with sense here, we are dealing with rules and regulations. If things finally work out, I shall eat the *monstrous crow and forget what drove me to insanity.

 

The Mad Hatter

Why is a raven like a writing desk?
[Let me know if you find out.]

 

Twinkle, twinkle, little bat!
How I wonder what you’re at!
Up above the world you fly,
Like a tea tray in the sky.
Twinkle, twinkle, little bat!
How I wonder what you’re at!

 

I have put all of this aside for the weekend, certainly badgering people on a Friday cannot earn me popularity points. I will be sorting this out over the next few days and getting back in the saddle at the computer, riding under the twinkling bats, smacking down the overhead tea trays, and hoping, above all, that there is a world, somewhere, beyond the looking glass, that is clear, shiny, and reflective of sanity.

 

 

[Thanks and apologies to Lewis Carroll and John Tenniel, one of my favorite authors and illustrator.]

 

 

This series starts here:
Part 1: And The Band Played On … a mother’s life, a daughter’s journey

The previous post is here.

The next post is here