Mothering my Mom

This past weekend was a much needed respite from the craziness that ensued after my Mom was in the hospital. A week ago, my Mom went to the hospital because of a bad reaction to her RA (rheumatoid arthritis) medication (methotrexate). Of course any time she has to go into the hospital this interferes with all her other meds... that means she didn't have her lithium... and a Bipolar person without their lithium just becomes a fucking crazy person. She wasn't straight up hallucinating like last fall when she was in the hospital, but she was definitely manic. What some people don't realize about manic episodes is that sometimes the person just gets intensely happy. In the hospital, she was so excited! She just kept talking about plans and getting healthy and how I was going to have two little girls (she tells me that she dreams of my two daughters and asks me what I'm going to name them...). The doc at the hospital told us before we took her home that she needed 24-hour supervision until she saw her psychiatrist. This was on a Wednesday night. So the next day, I left work early and went with her and Juliet to two doctors appointments.
First was her psychiatrist, Dr. Monasifi. We were worked in on short notice so I can understand why we would have to see a nurse practitioner instead of her normal doctor. What I don't understand is how this NP, who claims she sees my mom when her doc can't, didn't even know my mom's name. She kept calling her Mary, which is my mother's legal first name, but no one, I mean no one calls her that. When my sister said to the NP (Evelyn) "Her name is Elizabeth," we were met with a rude stare and a sigh. While I'm sure Evelyn is super duper busy, is it so much to ask someone who works in a psychiatric office to take a minute and learn the name of the patient they are about to perscribe mood altering substances too?! Especially since my mom's lithium levels were toxic when she was admitted into the hospital. Needless to say, Evelyn was less than helpful and told us my mom would continue to need 24 hour supervision. We asked her how long mom might need to be supervised. "Well I can't read the future..." We asked her how long until mom would adjust to the new med she gave us to try out. "I just don't know, I can't read the future..." We asked her if there were any services that might be able to help us. "There are no services that are going to provide what you need..." The appointment felt like a big waste of time. At one point I was telling Evelyn what the doctor at the hospital had told me about mom's meds and she said to me, "well he's not a psychiatrist..." Uhm, in case you hadn't noticed, you're a damn nurse practitioner!
The second appointment totally made up for the first. At her RA doc office, it seemed like every single person we saw knew my mom and asked how she was and made small talk. My mom is on a first name basis with her Rheumatologist, Cheryl. Cheryl was patient, sweet and more than happy to answer all of our questions. She told Julie and I she had heard all about us. She offered to contact the hospital and get details on my mom's reaction to the methotrexate she prescribed. Cheryl, if you're out there reading this: you and your staff really gave us renewed hope that we can make this work. I can't even describe my happiness at seeing mom treated like a regular person. I felt like we dealt with everything that's wrong with mental health care at the first appointment, but the second one showed me that it doesn't have to be that way.
So for now, mom has leveled out some. We're keeping a close eye on her, but we just can't supervise her 24 hours a day. Frequent visits will have to do. Her mood is good, she's eating, that's all we can ask for.

Florida Department of What the F*** Do You Want?!

I like to think that I can keep my cool in stressful situations, but I will admit that once my buttons have been pushed a time too many, I just can't hold it in. Case in point: I am the only full time zero operator for the Florida Dept. of Health. When you call the DOH for a question about your paramedic license, I'm the first person you talk to. When you call us to complain about the mold in your apartment, I'm the one who answers "How may I direct your call?" When you call to tell someone about the botched plastic surgery your wife got, or how they're going to take out half of your small intestine if you don't get your meds and you'll have to wear diapers for the rest of your life (and you're only 26! Wahhh!), I'm the miserable soul who then transfers you to the office that ACTUALLY deals with whatever the hell your problem is. I'm required to know *just enough* about all of these unrelated health issues to get you to the right person. That means I don't have your special file in front of me, I don't know the Medicaid office's P.O. box and I sure as hell am not required to google it for you. Seriously, someone actually said to me (after trying to transfer them to the office in question for about 5 minutes...) "You don't have a book or something with addresses in it... you could AT LEAST google it for me..." No sir, I don't have a special book where the answers to everyone's questions magically appear; and if you think I'm going to google an address for your lazy ass after you were that rude to me, you've got another thing comin' to ya.
And for those who call and ask for "Sarah or Sally... something with an S, she sits next to Bob the guy who handles, uh... ya know, Sally, imblex testing, implex..." (it's NCLEX - National Council Licensure EXamination testing and I still would need to know what type of license it's for) I could never know enough to get that guy to the right person.
I wonder, are there just more stupid people in this world than I assume? And are all of them given DOH's main line and told, "Here, this is your own personal complaint hotline! Call it any time to blather on about nothing in particular!"? Is it so hard to understand that when you call a state agency, the first person you talk to is not going to be *the* person you need to talk to?
All I ask for is a little patience and sympathy. I try my hardest to help people who are confused, to transfer people swiftly to the department they need to talk to and to find alternatives when the person they need mysteriously isn't taking any calls and doesn't have their voicemail set up. In Tallahassee alone we have about 10 different office buildings; I don't even know how many we have total in Florida. My directory has thousands of names and each person is responsible for updating their own contact info.
In the end, sometimes the only solution is to laugh. Like last week when an elderly chap called and asked to speak to Gloria. I asked if he had her last name or what department she was in. "No! Gloria! She works in your office! Gloria!" he yelled at me. I told him we have many different offices and that if he told me what it was in regards to maybe I could get him to that office. "Her name is Gloria! I want to speak to her! Gloria!!" We went back and forth for a few minutes during which he insisted that I just yell out her name because she is in my office (and then he yelled "Gloria!" at me again I assume as demonstration). I was tempted to just scream "Gloria!" and then tell him oops sorry she must not be here today, but I didn't, and eventually he told me he'd call me back and hung up on me.