A few days ago, a psychiatrist resident at the hospital called me and asked me some really good questions.
“Why? Why did they send her home?”
He didn’t really expect me to answer that. That’s not even a real question. If you heard that a 6-inch blue gumball had landed in the Phoenix area this morning, your first reaction would be to think, how? How is that possible? ” So it’s more like that.
I’ve written about this several times before. My girlfriend’s younger sister, who is diabetic and mentally ill, was evicted several years ago against her mother’s will and moved into her mother’s house (hundreds of miles from where I live). That’s when I arrived. “Shirley”in August 2021:
This is complicated by the fact that Shirley contracted an MRSA infection in her leg several years ago that left her with very bad symptoms. Shirley believes in his heart that the infection was caused by a “biological weapon” designed by “them” as a new attempt on his life. But Shirley hasn’t been to the doctor (or dentist, and her teeth are falling out) in years. That’s because, of course, she’s her “her own doctor.”
Then, in April, my mother passed away.
[…]
Shirley’s leg hasn’t healed (still bleeds occasionally), she generally doesn’t leave the house, and she doesn’t clean up when the cat pukes or poops on the carpet. After all, you’re replacing the carpet anyway. . Why does Shirley have to pass out? Her solution to all the flies that appeared as a result was to buy her bug zapper. That’s it!
[…]
The real long-term question is what will happen next? There are people who don’t look for jobs, don’t go to the doctor, have little savings, and whose businesses are far from sustainable.
after that once againjust about a year ago now, after this shit hit the fan hard:
Then, in late September 2021, a phone conversation with Shirley made it clear to me and my cousin (we’ll call her Magda) that Shirley’s health was deteriorating. Magda recommended that Shirley undergo a “302,” a medical examination where authorities could decide to administer involuntary care. I wasn’t sure about this whole thing, but Magda finally pulled the trigger in early October 2021.
The police and an ambulance came (Magda, who lives 30 minutes away, came too) and took the diabetic (and frankly dying) Shirley to the hospital. For how long, no one knew.
Within a week or so, Shirley would be admitted to a rehabilitation facility, or rather a nursing home (which is where she is today). But what will become of the house and its many cats?
Well, you can skip reading about what happened to most of the cats, but if you really want to know, read the diary above. not good.
By the way, Magda currently lives in Minnesota to be closer to her son. She can no longer help as she is starting to have her own health problems as well.
So, after spending over a year in a rehab facility and being rushed back into the hospital with fatal kidney failure, my mother’s modest fortune now covers the house’s bills (including the money I was supposed to inherit). I was completely exhausted to pay for it. That would have really helped her pay for her child’s college expenses), so they decided to send her home!
Magda and I have been repeatedly reminded by the contractor that the house is a bad biohazard zone and yes, they use the “B” word and that someone from Adult Protective Services has gone there. I was trying to explain that I needed to check this because it was dangerous. It’s not a safe discharge, but no one would do that.
While Shirley was in the hospital, a psychiatric evaluation was to be carried out, but due to Shirley’s non-cooperation no diagnosis was made and therefore everything was officially cleared psychiatrically. Never mind that Shirley told everyone that Magda was secretly a CIA operative and that’s why Magda reported Shirley’s condition (although it certainly saved her life). And all the nurses will say, oh yeah, Shirley is pretty crazy, but never mind.
Oh yeah, she went home! Then she had a panic attack that lasted about six days and made it impossible for her to take insulin or other medications or figure out how to pay her bills.
So she went back to rehab. And after a month or so they sent her to her home again!
Her lifespan at that time was less than 24 hours. Surely this should end all pretense of “living independently at home”, right? (The word “certainly” comes up again; it has been said in so many ways about my sister, which is why she is “Shirley.”)
no! They sent her home again in March and set up a visiting nurse who came for about an hour three times a week. That will solve everything.
And to my surprise, visiting nurse Shirley said this. “Shirley, you’re lucky to have me as your nurse. Any other nurse would have reported this place to APS right away.” The visiting nurse is also called the “Rodeo Clown” by Shirley. He was such a weirdo.
lucky!
So what does Shirley do the moment she hits the ground? She gets more cats! I begged Shirley not to do that until she was sure of her health, but to no avail. She was turned away from several formal shelters because something seemed wrong with her. It was okay, Shirley found the cat’s owner who was desperate to get rid of it, and that was it. More cats for Shirley! Like, 5 of them!
I knew Shirley would run out of money in June, so I “lent” her $500, knowing full well that I would never see her again. And she also “borrowed” from the only real friend she seems to have — let’s call him Jerry. I don’t know how on earth Jerry tolerates her, but thankfully he’s really helped. We initially tried to get my cousin Drew, who was living with his sister Magda, to stay there and help, but he was completely incompetent and may have stolen some things. It turns out they didn’t clean anything as promised. So it was just another really sordid chapter in this whole story.
Jerry tells Shirley that she should accept food stamps (Shirley is a “liberal” and that food stamps make people dependent, so she should take a “loan” from family and friends) and apply for disability. I convinced her that it would be better, and eventually she listened. So it worked out, but Shirley was supposed to pay her property taxes from the sunlight on her last property that I secured for her, and she didn’t. Because even though she wasn’t making any money, she continued to do things like order food from DoorDash.
Well, about two weeks ago that shit hit the fan again, and after denying being sick for about three weeks (with constant diarrhea, a violent cough, and an episode in which she left), Shirley revealed that she Realizing that he must be close to death, his hand “stuck”), he ignored Jerry’s and my wishes to call a doctor and actually finally called an ambulance himself. Jerry went to the hospital with her at 5am. When you talk to him, he seems like your average working-class Joe, but he’s some kind of Bodhisattva-like person that I don’t understand. he Someone suitable for the house.
Well, Shirley had an even worse infection in her foot – home “care” is a no-no – it got so bad that the remaining toes on her left foot had to be removed. (She had already had two removed in her previous hospital stay). and her right leg was amputated just below her knee. It turned out that she had a screw implanted in her right leg, but her neuropathy was so advanced that she didn’t realize it. She said nurses at one hospital were shocked that her wounds had been neglected. Shirley was in intensive care on a ventilator for several days as the infection spread to her lungs. They put her in a coma for a while. She is now in a relegated unit.
The septic shock also appears to have caused some damage to her brain. She used to be able to coherently put her thoughts together, which were often based on crazy conspiracy theories, but at least if you accepted those things as truth, she was as good as someone who speaks English well. It felt like we were interacting. Now she sends me her 5 word emails which are choppy and not full words, but I think she understands what I emailed her. She calls and I pick up the phone, but she doesn’t say anything. Maybe she doesn’t know she’s calling her?
A psychiatrist saw her a few days ago, but then the discharge nurse called and told me that it had been determined that Shirley was permanently incapable of making medical decisions for herself, so I decided to take care of her. He asked me to serve as his power of attorney. I don’t have that kind of power right now, and I honestly don’t know if I want it. They want to send her to a facility that is a step up from her previous nursing home and it seems like they haven’t told Shirley that that is the appropriate thing to do yet, but maybe Shirley will try to do that. Even in her current state, which she admits is “I’m falling apart,” she fights it once she realizes. They plan to make her sell her house and pay her expenses, but it’s unclear whether her medical incompetence extends to her legal judgment. She says she doesn’t have a guardian right now, but I think she probably needs to appoint a guardian for her, but I’m very concerned about doing that. She doesn’t want to quarrel with her about this matter.
Jerry said that when he visits her at this point, she only maintains a “fairly good” conversation, which he said he has done two or three times in the past. She went through a period of “talkativeness” for several days where she spouted off compulsive topic after compulsive topic, but she is now much quieter. Usually it’s just her arbitrary worries that she has, and sometimes they kind of make sense, and sometimes they make sense. They are not.
I’m still waiting for a diagnosis from a psychiatrist. Finally someone made one, but to be honest it was a few years too late.
There is no will in this country to deal with mental health issues. Things don’t have to end this way, but they always do. I don’t claim to have all the answers, but the United States is not a good place for people with mental illness. My sister had Medicaid and a visiting nurse and this still happened.
Previously, they said Shirley posed no danger to herself or others and could return home if she chose. Really?
It’s cute when people fantasize about Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster, but not when they can’t discern the health, hygiene, and economic consequences. That’s how people become homeless and die.
Needless to say, the cats were stuck again. I hope Jerry finds them all so he doesn’t have to set any traps and finds them eventually… Oh, I said we’re not going to talk about that.
i saw video Arnold Schwarzenegger today warned us about the dangers of blaming scapegoats and not being honest about your problems. It takes away responsibility, he said, and instead of making you strong, it actually makes you powerless and weak. He said he didn’t want to see the end of the road because it wasn’t beautiful. Well, my sister has been doing that all her life, and here we are at the end of the road, and you’re right, Arnold: It’s not pretty.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way. My sister is a smart person, but she never got the help she needed (she wouldn’t have accepted it anyway), and it hurt a lot of people in my family, and it hurt a lot of her friends. , and most gave up on her. I’m not blaming anyone in particular right now. There’s a lot of responsibility and I don’t know exactly how we could do better, but it didn’t have to be this way.
Why did they send her home?
