Thursday, January 31, 2008

My dad hadn't quite picked up on how quickly Betty's disability had progressed in the past few days - that, or he was still having trouble coming to terms with the fact that it was, in fact, a very real problem. In the morning I saw him getting ready to commute to Menlo Park for work. He works from home all but one or two days during the week, and this was the first day that week that he was going to leave home for the day. I knew he had to work, but I was scared to leave Betty home alone.

So I went to school, fearing about all the possibilities of her being alone in her current condition. At around 10:15 AM, I left class to call home and ask if she wanted me to come home early to help her around the house. I was expecting a humble, "No, I'm fine," so when she said "Could you please do that?" I couldn't help but burst into tears. I'd never experienced my stepmom in such a vulnerable state.

I sped home and ran upstairs to find her in her closet with the light off. She was attempting to put her bra on, but struggling. So I put it on for her. "Have you eaten?" I asked her. She said "No." I said, "Are you hungry?" And she gave me a sort of shrug/head shake. "Well, I'm going to make you breakfast." It took a little bit to get her out of the closet/bathroom. Everything she saw distracted her. If she saw a sweater in the corner, she needed to go fold it. When she saw a pair of scissors, she grabbed them and tried to bring them to her hair. I had to physically intervene, then hold her hand as I led her into the kitchen. I made her the biggest breakfast I could, and she wolfed it down.

Knowing that she couldn't drive, she asked if I would help take her to her office and "make some phone calls." So I drove her over there, and was disheartened to see that her office had basically become a giant pigsty. I think the only "work" she had done for about a week was opening up envelopes and discarding their contents on her desk. She would circle unnecessary names and phone numbers on random documents, and throw a ton of her junk mail into a huge pile on the ground. When I went with her, I did my best to try and figure out what exactly she wanted me to do (what do I know about insurance?), but she was unable to express this.

I had had enough. I left the office for a minute, took out my cell phone, and called Kaiser. I bitched to the advice nurse that they were not taking my stepmom's condition seriously enough. I told them she hadn't eaten until I fed her, and that she had otherwise become a complete space cadet. After giving me a bunch of, "We need you to calm down, Ms. Faden," they told me they would "call me back soon."

We were back in my car driving home when Kaiser called. "Given what you've described," the nurse told me, "you should probably take your stepmother to the emergency room." Finally, I thought, we were on the same page. I drove her right over there.

I could tell that Betty was tremendously nervous. She was zipping and unzipping her purse compulsively. She lost control over her bladder. I tried to keep my cool but basically lost it once I had to describe to three or four different nurses / doctors what the problems were. I couldn't believe that my own stepmother was helpless, lying before me in that little hospital gown. I hadn't imagined that I would be in this position for 30 years, but some motherly force took control of me. I rubbed her back, wiped her tears, and transferred her to and from her little portable hospital toilet. My dad eventually arrived from work, and he kept her company as they finally gave her the CT scan. Kaiser kept her overnight for observation.