“So, Mom was ‘socializing’ during the day?” If I’m here, it means she wasn’t chatting or playing board games.
“Yes.” He glances at the paperwork on his desk. “Patricia was discovered in the Complete Care unit at two thirty in the afternoon.”
Complete Care is in a different hub. At some point, Mother will be moved to that unit. My stomach drops. I don’t like to think about it. “Today?”
“On the tenth.”
That was three days ago.
“She was discovered in the bed of resident Walter Shone.”
This is not a surprise to me. “Yes. Mother is affectionate.”
“Walter Shone is eighty-one and suffers from end-stage dementia. He’d been comatose for several weeks.”
So if he didn’t know anything happened, what’s the big deal?
“Imagine his wife’s surprise when she discovered Patricia wrapped around her husband like an octopus.”
Again, not a surprise. Mom has always been a notorious man stealer. “I imagine that was quite shocking.” I glance at the clock because it’s not as rude as looking at my watch, snapping my fingers, and saying, “Chop-chop. I’ve got a plane to catch.”
“It was horrific. His sons and five grandchildren had come with their mother to say their last goodbyes.”
“That is bad of her.” Mother had robbed a family of their private moments of grief. I feel awful about that, but she has Alzheimer’s, and this is a memory care facility. She’s here for a reason, and she needs help as much as any other patient. “I know Mother is very sorry.” I rise to hurry Douglas along.
“He had an erection.”
Gross! “With severe dementia? Wearing Depends?” I turn my head to look at Mom. “Tell me that you did not take that man’s pants off.”
Mom shrugs a shoulder and continues to stare at the clock. “I have a passionate nature.”
“For God’s sake!” Some people are addicted to drugs or alcohol, money or chocolate. Mom’s addiction has always been men, and having Alzheimer’s hasn’t changed that one bit. If anything, Alzheimer’s makes it worse. She doesn’t even attempt to hide her “passionate nature” anymore. Not that she’d ever tried very hard anyway.
“We can’t have that behavior here.”
No shit. I keep my smile in place and try not to lose my cool. This is her third facility. She got kicked out of the first for spooning, and the second for what I call going “Rattlesnake Patty” just one too many times—that is, threatening to kill other female patients for stealing her “boyfriends” and plundering seven bags of Pirate’s Booty from her hidden stash. Honestly, who steals seven bags of Pirate’s Booty?
No one.
“This is a safety issue that we cannot tolerate at Golden Springs.”
Again, no shit. Somehow my mother wandered into the Complete Care unit and no one noticed. Mother is very wily, and I can’t blame Golden Springs entirely. “Thank God no one was hurt.” Physically anyway. I’m sure the grandkids have mental scars. I shift in my seat and calmly say, “I’m sure we can come up with a better way to keep track of Mother during social hours.” I even manage a little joke. “Perhaps lead shoes.”
“Wynonna stole all my shoes,” Mom says, and I’m just thankful she isn’t blaming me this time. “My Pirate’s Booty too.”
Douglas pats a stack of papers. “We’re discharging Patricia to your care.”
“Excuse me?” Unfortunately, he repeats what I thought I’d heard the first time. Finding a different facility won’t be easy. Like I said, I know the drill. Last time, it had taken more than the thirty-day grace period to find Golden Springs. I’d had no choice but to have Mom live with me in my condo. Within weeks, she made me lose my mind. It took a while to find it again, and I don’t want to lose it once more. “That seems like a drastic solution to a more easily solvable problem.” I’m Lulu the Love Guru. I built a multimillion-dollar empire from nothing but a legal pad. I calmly suggest a second option. “Perhaps we could tie a bell around her ankle.” I didn’t get where I am today by accident. When something stands between me and my goals, I solve the problem.
“We had a staff meeting this morning, and it’s been decided. We’ve included a packet outlining her dietary needs, medication, doctors, and appointments. You’ll need to take these with you.”
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay.” I slide my hand into my purse and pull out my wallet. “How much?” I grab a pen and poise it above a blank check. “How much to make this all go away and then we can all move forward with our day.”
“It’s not about money.”
I pull up my sleeve and glance at my watch. “I don’t have time to negotiate, Douglas. How many zeros?”
“It’s not about money,” he says again, but I don’t believe him.
“I was on my way to the airport when you called.” I shove my wallet back inside my purse. They probably want to charge me an arm and a leg for more sensors and alarms. “We can continue this conversation when I return.” I lean to one side and grab my soggy shoes. “I have to go, or I’ll miss my flight.”
“I don’t think you understand. Patricia has already been discharged.”
“What? You’ve got to be kidding.” That means I have only a month to come up with a solution that doesn’t involve Mother driving me crazy again. Impossible. They have to reverse their decision. I slide my foot into one pump and stand. “Mother, promise Douglas you won’t spoon anymore.”
She continues to stare at the clock. “I’m having dinner with Earl.”
“Mom!” I limp in front of her so she has to look at me, and I say firmly, “Promise you’ll control your passionate nature.”
“No one will believe that!” She laughs. “That’s for sure!”
“If you’ll sign here.”
I turn to Douglas and say, as politely as possible, “When I brought her here, I told you that she wanders at night.” I wave the pump in my hand at the papers on his desk. “You wrote it down and assured me that the staff would watch out for her.”
“This happened during the day, when it’s more difficult to watch every patient.”
“I don’t give a damn.”
Mom sucks in a scandalized breath. “Lou Ann!”
“Damn isn’t a swear word. How long was my mother missing before she was found in bed with that old guy?”
“A long time,” admits the ruby-lipped troublemaker.
“I don’t need your help, Mom.” I point my pump in her general direction and return to the desk. “Who was responsible for watching her?”
“Every one of our staff members is dedicated to the care and welfare of our clients.” He thumbs through his papers. “Here’s the admission agreement you signed last year.”
Okay. They’re not taking her back, and I need to think fast. Legally, they have to give me thirty days’ written notice that they’re discharging her, and I need to find an alternative memory care facility. Even if I weren’t traveling, that’s hardly enough time. I can’t just drop her off someplace because they have an open bed. No matter how tempting, I can’t do that to my mother. “I’ll need more than thirty days.” I have to be in LA tomorrow morning. My tour is sold out. I have to leave now.