mama_kestrel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mama_kestrel) wrote2021-01-30 05:26 pm
mama_kestrel) wrote2021-01-30 05:26 pm
Entry tags:
Communication Gaps
Warning: this is an unabashed whinge.
I talked to my mom today. We once again had the conversation about why I haven't come to see her, and that it has nothing to do with whether she or I have Covid antibodies, it has to do with state board of health requirements for nursing homes. I go over that with her about every other day.
Then she started talking about when she comes home, which she hopes will be soon.
I know that the facility social worker went and talked to her last Thursday. The social worker called me right after she spoke to Mom, said that she'd explained the requirements for mom to come home, where she wasn't meeting them, and that she would have to be transferred to long term care. Mom understood, she told me. She wanted to stay where she is, as she likes them, if she can't come home. Then she told the social worker "talk to my daughter. She makes the decisions."
I've come to realize that "talk to my daughter" is code for "I didn't understand a word of that, but I don't want to admit it. So I'll nod and make agreeable noises, and tell you to talk to my daughter." She's happy that way; she doesn't have to be responsible for anything. And then I get to be the evil person who explains it in a way she does understand, and makes her feel bad by saying I can't bring her home.
I hate this. I hate it with the burning fire of a supernova. I hate seeing a brilliant woman - and she was, if always a bit impractical - reduced to masking in this fashion. I hate being the one who has to say "I can't do this", which translates in her head to "you don't want to." And I hate that I have to take other peoples' assessments for everything, because covid has locked me out.
Okay. Whinge over for now. I think I'll go bake something.
I talked to my mom today. We once again had the conversation about why I haven't come to see her, and that it has nothing to do with whether she or I have Covid antibodies, it has to do with state board of health requirements for nursing homes. I go over that with her about every other day.
Then she started talking about when she comes home, which she hopes will be soon.
I know that the facility social worker went and talked to her last Thursday. The social worker called me right after she spoke to Mom, said that she'd explained the requirements for mom to come home, where she wasn't meeting them, and that she would have to be transferred to long term care. Mom understood, she told me. She wanted to stay where she is, as she likes them, if she can't come home. Then she told the social worker "talk to my daughter. She makes the decisions."
I've come to realize that "talk to my daughter" is code for "I didn't understand a word of that, but I don't want to admit it. So I'll nod and make agreeable noises, and tell you to talk to my daughter." She's happy that way; she doesn't have to be responsible for anything. And then I get to be the evil person who explains it in a way she does understand, and makes her feel bad by saying I can't bring her home.
I hate this. I hate it with the burning fire of a supernova. I hate seeing a brilliant woman - and she was, if always a bit impractical - reduced to masking in this fashion. I hate being the one who has to say "I can't do this", which translates in her head to "you don't want to." And I hate that I have to take other peoples' assessments for everything, because covid has locked me out.
Okay. Whinge over for now. I think I'll go bake something.