Mom was released from the hospital last night and sent by ambulance to our second-choice nursing home. I stopped by her apartment (just down the street) and picked up a few of her things, and met her there.
It’s pretty much a homier version of a hospital setting, except the stuff is older. The place was built in 1973, and in some places, it shows.
Mom has a roommate. She seems nice, if frail. I was going to bring a TV in for mom, but Mom ended up watching Dancing with the Stars on her roommate’s TV.
I’m bringing some of the kids’ artwork in to hang on Mom’s bulletin board. It should cheer the place up a bit.
There’s a sign posted near the door that discourages kids under 18 from visiting, presumably because they will bring germs. A few garden-variety kid-germs could wreak utter havoc in a place like that.
I guess the kids won’t be visiting much.
There’s no phone for Mom. We could pay Verizon to have one installed, but for a 2-week stay, it doesn’t seem worthwhile. I’ll be stopping by Radio Shack this morning to pick up a Tracfone that hopefully, Mom won’t be confused by. I hate not being able to reach Mom.
Which is weird, because I thought I would feel relieved.
I am unsettled by this nursing home stuff.
It’s only for two weeks, right?