Glitch...

I brought my Mother home from the nursing home this morning. The plan: after breakfast there, they would discharge her and we would head to her apartment. I checked in the office yesterday to make sure the paperwork was all done.

After breakfast, one mucky-mucks told me, "Um, there's been a little glitch. A doctor needs to sign her release order and it was done by a PA."

"This was all supposed to have been taken care of two days ago. I double checked yesterday and you said it was all good to go. Call the doctor's office NOW. Don't make this VERY anxious little old lady wait any longer."

Like most medical stuff, after an hour and a half of sitting and waiting, someone needed to kick-start this process. After a 30 second conversation with the doctor's office, and a bunch of apologies from them, they called the nursing home and authorized her release.

I had to shake my head at one point this morning (well, several points)... as I was carrying some of my Mother's things to the car, another resident at the home looked at me and said, "Who died?" He had obviously seen family members carrying stuff out before, and the outcome wasn't as good as our situation.

Back at her apartment, we took another "tour" of the place. I thought the first thing she'd want to do would be to eat a good meal or lay down in her bed... no, she wanted to sit at the table and pay some bills. When nap time came around, she asked, "Can I take a nap on my couch?"

"This is your place, Mom - your rules. You can stay up late, play loud music, dance naked in front of the windows - no more nurses, aids, or therapists telling you what to do. Well, just me... and you don't want to get on my bad side."

If the rest of her recuperation goes as well as her first day home, she's going to be fine.