Slapdown at the OK SNF

“So lay your pistol down, granny

The company men never came to you

But don’t unknit your brow, granny

The mice in the yard ate the potted plants you grew.”

 - Samuel Ervin Beam, Friends They Are Jewels, by Iron & Wine

Since 2/12/2011 The Other Guy’s mother (aka DOB) has occupied a bed in a Skilled Nursing Facility.  I could have said she lives there, but notice that I did not say that. I also will not say she suffers from dementia because it would be more accurate to say that she seems blissfully unaware she is a few laws short of an offshore tax shelter. Notice I did not say she was in denial about her mental capacities that have diminished to microscopic proportions, like say, her grown children are. They somehow manage to find other reasons for why she makes no sense on any given day.

Anyway, the blissful part of DOB’s residence was mostly true, until Saturday night. I was going to say it was a dark and stormy night, but actually by the time it got dark the storm had passed. At least outside the SNF.  Then, at 9:30 my home phone rang. A dainty, heavily-accented female asked for TOG. I’m no fool; I instantly realized it had to be La Vida Loco calling about DOB. Who else calls on dark and stormy nights unless it’s a homicide official from the Sûreté, the automated National Weather Service warning of a tornado, or a nurse at the SNF? And those calls are never to chat about how I’m doing.  So I gave the caller his cell number and refreshed my bourbon and butterscotch. And by refresh, I mean I finished the first glass and poured another.

What follows is the text conversation between me and TOG, which I have edited only to correct his pathetic spelling.

TOG:  Here u got lucky…

WISIMH:  Luck had nothing to do with it.

TOG: … SNF just called me and said mother was in a fight (again)…

WISIMH:  Again? Hello? Backstory?

TOG:  …and m said she started it and slapped somebody. Here’s the funny part --- they didn’t want to talk to me. Just you. Please tell me what happens.

But it gets better. The minute I read this text, and even before smoke started to come out of my ears, my cellphone rings. It’s a blocked number, which means it’s TOG.

Me:  Hi.

TOG:  I just sent you a text by mistake so ignore it. I meant to send it to X (aka, Deadbeat Oldest Sister, to distinguish her from the Deadbeat Youngest Sister).  

DOS calls DOB daily and hence speaks to and knows nursing staff by name and shift because DOB can’t ever figure out how to make the machine next to her bed stop ringing,  DOS first calls the nurse’s station and they go in to DOB's room and DOS calls the bedside phone, and the nurse answers and puts it DOB's  hand with the right end pointing to her ear and mouth.

Me:  Wow. Ok, let me know what happens.

WISIMH: Only wanted to talk to me? Fat chance, you lazy slug. The nurse wanted to speak to a responsible adult who gives a shit so naturally that isn’t you and you handed off the problem to DOS who lives on the other side of the USA where she can do more good than you could. In fairness, at least you didn’t hand the problem to me. Wait! You tried to! You “mistakenly” texted me first because you were expecting me to jump in and say I’m all over it like hair on soap and will call La Vida Loco and solve the problem and report to you while you sit in your apartment and watch Bait Car which is clearly more important than your mother turning into a thug.

TOG:  DOS is on the line now with M and nurses.

Me:  This is what mother said as the fight began. (Acknowledgement to my internet guru for the pic).

TOG:  Tnx sent that to DOS. Some Woman came in and was making too much noise in the closet and mother was pissed off cause this is bothering the lady next-door who is very sick. And when the woman wouldn’t stop making noise mother slapped her. So the nurses called the doctor and the doctor said do blood tests to see if mother’s infection is affecting her mood swings. DOS thought it all quite funny.

WISIMH:  Remember what I mentioned about denial of dementia?  Infections cause mood swings? A doctor said that? I'm sure DOS thought it was hilarious too, because 9:30 here means 12:30 there. So, good times.

Me:  Thank god it wasn’t a hate crime. I worried m slapped her black neighbor. FYI, I suspect dementia more likely to affect mood swings than an infection. Unless she has late stage syphilis.

TOG:  Hey that’s my mother you are talking about. What makes you think she is prejudiced?

Me:  Wait. You’re more insulted I implied that she might be racist than that she has terminal syphilis? That’s fucked up dude.

TOG: I thought you’d like that.

Me:  Actually, yeah. Still can’t wrap my head around mother starting a fight. How did she get there? Musta been in her wheelchair. The person she slapped musta got tangled in her own oxygen bottle tube and couldn’t outrun mother.

TOG:  Always with the details. Who cares…

WISIMH:  Well, you got me there.

TOG: ... Slapstick lives. Put your own captions to the pictures in your head. Maybe she’s been taking Wheelchair-Tai-Kwan-Don’t-You-Do-That lessons each afternoon.

WISIMH:  After all these years can TOG be turning into a happy drunk? He used to a surly drunk. The kind who would slap somebody disturbing a sick roommate by rattling adult diapers in the closet.

Me:     (Putting captions to the pictures in my head and texting back the following)

            DOB:  Bitch, shut up. My neighbor is sick.

            Victim: Wadda ya gonna do you old broad? Stab me with your plastic dinner fork?

            (Approaching slowly and menacingly by moving her wheelchair with her feet)

            DOB:  Imma fuck you up.

            Victim:  Ooooh! I’m so scare-

            SMACK

TOG:  Well, the interloper might have been trying to steal her money.

Me:    Well let me know when you follow up tomorrow if mother finds a razor blade in her cupcake.

WISIMH:  Like that will happen. The follow up, not the razor blade.