We brought Mom home from the hospital yesterday. Left at noon, and stopped at
- the hospital (1.5 hour wait) to pick up Mom
- Panera (food)
- the pharmacy to drop off Mom’s new prescriptions
- a coffee shop (since I didn’t get Mom the chai tea latte at Panera that she’s not allowed to have anyway)
- the bus stop to pick up Big Sis
- the pharmacy again (who gave us all of Mom’s meds for the month and only one of the new ones; the second needed a nebulizer, which they don’t carry)
- and Mom’s place
Didn’t get back to my own home until almost 7 pm.
Today after preschool (Pajamarama day), we stopped at home in a near blizzard to change into black and gold for the Steelers rally at my mom’s place. We went over early for lunch (the drive itself was an adventure in nearly white-out conditions). The service was unusually slow, Little Sis got a tummyache and couldn’t (or wouldn’t) eat her lunch, and we were late for the start of the rally. Cue the cheers, songs, and games (Little Sis won a prize: a stuffed football that cheers “Here We Go Steelers Here We Go” when you smash it on a surface; the dog has already chewed it up).
By that time, Little Sis was crabbin’ and so was I. I was just about to clear out to save my own sanity when I remembered that Mom still didn’t have her nebulizer medicine. Like the saint I am, I went up to her apartment without being asked and grabbed the scrip. Told Mom I’d drop it at the pharmacy on my way home and have them deliver it.
“They don’t make deliveries on Saturday,” she said.
She looked at me as the silence hung between us. The implication was that I should volunteer to drive back with my crabby self and my crabby 4 year old and drop it off.
“Whatever. I’ll figure that out after I get it dropped off,” I said. I was almost out the front door when I remembered that the front door to her apartment wasn’t working. What were the chances that she’d cross the hall to the front office or pick up the phone to report it? Not good. So I went back and handled that, too.
The crabbiness and resentment built. Dropped the scrip, waited half an hour for it to be filled, entertained Little Sis, and left for Mom’s. Turns out the parking lot exit I chose was impassable due to the snow, so I ended up having to back down a snowy hill and try the other entrance, which was much busier and where I’d have to attempt a left into rush hour traffic near a major intersection. Grrr.
I think Little Sis may have overheard a few choice words.
Back to Mom’s. Parked in a snow bank. Took the stairs two at a time. Down two long hallways before I reached Mom’s apartment. Tried the door, on which I had taped the latch open the night before since her key wouldn’t open it and it wouldn’t stay electronically unlocked for some reason.
I knocked at the door.
“Come in,” sang Mom.
“Can’t. It’s LOCKED,” I growled.
So we wait while she gets to the door and opens it. I practically shove the meds at her, scoop up the lunch leftovers we’d left behind, and clear out. I apologize, and explain that I. Have. HAD. It.
So now I’m back at home, desperately trying to soothe my jangled nerves with quantities of chocolate while kids scream in the basement. As I realize the folly of my ways, I reach for my computer to blog my misery. Ahhh…free therapy. Thanks, y’all!