Some People Really Just Need Smacking Hi there! Well, lots of stuff has been going on, and much of it was not good. Let�s see if I can recap a bit. I got a call from Mom and she was upset (which is nothing new in itself) but this one was a doozy. Apparently, Dad had a violent episode in the psychiatrist�s office, which led to security and the police being called. Because the police had to be called, Dad was taken via patrol car (in handcuffs!!) to a local hospital, where he is now under 72-hour psychiatric evaluation. I suppose he had to be restrained, but how upsetting for a man with advanced Alzheimer�s! And for Mom too! SIL and Bubba witnessed the episode as well, and for some reason, the SIL �took over� all the paperwork and gave Mom a piece of her mind (???) about how Mom has been handling Dad. Bubba gave Mom a ride to the hospital and Mom got the social worker and everyone involved with the temporary transfer to the mental hospital (which is on the same campus). SIL came back to the hospital in the afternoon to give Mom a ride home and gave her another piece of her mind, instead of compassion for this very upsetting and traumatic situation. I really wish I had been there, mostly to smack my SIL. The good thing is that now Dad will be taken in automatically to the facility where Mom wanted to place him (which is also on the campus of the same hospital). Unfortunately, this was definitely not the method that we wanted to take. What is most upsetting to Mom is how poorly SIL treated her, and that upsets me too. Mom has been under the most tremendous strain, and SIL�s complete lack of empathy makes me angry. True, I�ve not been happy with the way Mom has been dealing with Dad, but she�s still my mother. *sigh* In other news, I was able to restrain myself when the HMFIC of my losing my job came for a visit earlier this week. Meaning that I didn�t smack him. He came over to �assist with the transition�, which makes no sense to me, as I don�t think I really need assistance with the notion that the company I work for is essentially telling me not to let the door hit me in the ass on the way out. But yes, I was and am still a good little soldier. Yay. I also had to get a root canal this week, and as you know, dentists always put me into a flutter, since I think all dentists are really like this at heart: Well, consider what they do all day! But all went well, mostly because I was given a script for Halclon, which is apparently Valium from hell. I vaguely remember most of the procedure, because I do remember asking several times to see the nerves that they pulled out of my tooth. (They said no.) I remember them steering me back out to the waiting room to Hubster, who took my arm and led me outside (you didn�t think they�d let me drive, did you? Hell, they even took my payment the day before the procedure because they�re not allowed to take it once someone has taken this Halclon) and I then woke up at 4 am the next day (12 hours later), wearing my pajamas, mismatched socks, and one earring. Hubster tells me I stood in the middle of the den, staring at the TV for several minutes before he was able to convince me to go to bed. Halclon. I recommend it. It doesn�t have the �my arms are melting� feeling of Vicodin. Besides, if my arms are melting, I can�t smack people.
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