Luckily, my mother’s doctor gave me his cell phone number and told me to text him if necessary. I told him las night that my mother should NOT be discharged today, not in this weather and not in her physical shape. He agreed.

After dealing with the heartless, bureaucratic folks over at the hospital I thought that pleading my mother’s case—not to be thrown into the freeze—would be futile, BUT, I called this morning, told her that I had spoken to the doctor and that we conferred that my mother should not be discharged.

“OK.”

And I am thinking, “OK?” It’s OK? After the hassle the unit head gave me a couple of days before.

I reinforced: “You can’t send a fragile elderly patient home in this.”

“OK, I will let the managed long term care social worker know and get the word out to cancel the aide.”

I texted the doctor: “It’s not supposed to warm up until Monday.”

“OK, so we’ll see how she is doing Monday.”

And so you have it. I didn’t ask. I told. I advocated. If only I could clone myself and be there for me in MY old age.

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

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