Gotta get my zen on

I had been doing so much better at managing my anxiety about my parents' health and the care my mother is receiving in a long-term facility.

"Had been."

That means I've completely lost my zen, and the angry, petulant Voice #4 has sought to permanently overthrow and rule the peaceful, wise and patient Voice #1.

The thing is, my mom has lots of anxiety. She always has, even before the stroke. So, every time we've had to make a major move with her since she had her stroke, we have faced a period of a few days to a week of adjustment for her. Those adjustment periods truly are hellish. She's angry, paranoid, sleepless, restless and needy. And she's just awful to my dad. (I don't blame her; she cannot help it. Just describing what is.)

But, we adjust, and now we have adjusted to her new room in the long-term care hall.

Oh, wait! Not really!

I have discovered she adjusts a week at a time. "Adjust" means she is less fidgety and restless. She responds kindly and with acceptance to those of us giving her care. She manages at times to carry on relatively sensical conversations. She, overall, goes with the flow.

I happily get used to this. This is as things "should" be. (Do you hear the expectation in that?)

Then, weekends roll around. Most people adore their weekends. They work all week just to have a weekend. Weekends make life AWESOME.

I used to love weekends, too.

Now, weekends are chaotic and painful. So much so that I cannot control Voice #4 sometimes. She screams so loudly that I periodically act on her insanity.

You see, at my mom's new "home," weekend staff change frequently. We never know who is whom. New ones come and go, and they do so without any knowledge of my mother's needs. (And I am certain the other patients experience the same thing.) While I have informational signs posted in her room to alert the ever-changing staff of various things, failure to heed the safety and comfort requests demonstrates to me that the signs are either ignored and/or not read.

More importantly, communication among staff just plain sucks. Period. And if they're not going to discuss patients from shift to shift, is it really that difficult to read patient progress notes?

Finally, a shortage of people to take care of patients seems to exist on weekends. Either that, or they don't give a flip about responding to needs in a timely manner. Is that because no big wigs are around to monitor?

Voice 4 begins to whimper after a time. Once I've tried to calmly handle matters and have been ignored, #4 begins to wail. She despises feelings of powerlessness. (Maybe I should name her. Would that be too over-the-top?)

I can only stand so much wailing. My nerves are shot. Zen disappears. And I unleash #4.

She stomps. She pouts. She cusses. She scowls. She even sometimes dares to speak harshly to staff.

Crap. That means I have to apologize, and I hate saying I'm sorry.

Thank the Lord it's Monday. Order most likely will resume. Mom will chill a little, and I have exactly five days to comfort #4 and to remind her to use her positive coping skills and to practice patience.

I suppose #1 and I will have a talk with an administrator or two — not only for my mom and the other patients — but because #4 embarrasses the heck out of me and gives me headaches. Convulsive fits exhaust me.

And I hate cleaning up her messes.