Today has been a blur of phone calls made and received. Called Mom’s therapist. Her psychopharmacologist called me. Her caregiver called me. We shared information; compared notes. The consensus was unanimous: Mom has gone around the bend. She has lost touch with reality. She is nuts and needs to be hospitalized. More calls: notify the brothers, notify Mom’s regular doctor, make sure the cats will be cared for, stop the newspaper and have all mail forwarded.
At last. The build up over the past few weeks has come to a head. I’ve been talking with her various doctors and her therapist, letting them know each and every downturn I’ve seen, and reporting observations from Mom’s caregiver.
The surprise has been how fast she went from dumping her meds, to psychosis. Just one week. At least, because we’ve seen this before and it’s not our first time at this circus, my brothers and I have been very proactive at keeping tabs on Mom’s behavior. And I’ve been diligent about talking with Mom’s doctors and therapist. This time, it’s different because Dad is not here. All the crap he had to deal with over the years. Maybe one day I’ll catch a break and be able to grieve the loss of my father.
She’s at the hospital, waiting to be admitted. She is safe. I can breathe now… at least for a while.