Good luck and fingers crossed for safe travel, askye.

I took a look at the weather forecast for Michigan, and let's just say I'm not looking forward to leaving California. Fuckin' wintry mix!

Rogue One was sold out for the 5:00ish show downtown so I saw Fantastic Beasts instead.

Success! I have tv back again and Librarians in my recording queue.

Good luck with the wintery travel, askye and shrift. I'll also be heading up to MI, but once I'm there my sister and brother in law do all the driving. Since they have years of experience in winter driving and I don't, I'm fine with that.

My second? third? cousin M is posting pictures of her and her newly adopted, chubby cheeked daughter. I remember 'babysitting' M at that age (more a mother's helper, I was like 11,) her deliciously fat cheeks and how exclaiming 'besos' would get you a wet gummy kiss landed somewhere in the vicinity of your face. I know she'll teach little Eliza Esperanza the same game.

So we've been thinking that Dad took a big step downwards this week. Except ... maybe not.

He was reported as sleeping a lot, not eating much, very wobbly, generally out of things. And we were thinking, oy, this is not good.

And then last night I got a call from the hospice company. Turns out that the new hospice nurse, who just took over a few weeks ago, unilaterally decided that what Dad really needed to deal with his desire to leave the building was a regular dose of Haldol. So she wrote the order, and it was filled at least twice, and nobody would have fucking known, except one of the med-techs at the facility saw the order and had the sense to fax it to Dad's primary care physician.

Who, bless her, lost her shit, called the hospice company, insisted they assign another nurse, and generally raised hell. So he's off the Haldol (yay), and hopefully will be recovering his balance and more higher functions by next week. At which point his PCP might write a script for something much milder and less likely to fuck him up, but which would take the edge off.

I just cannot believe how bad communications are. We've got 5 separate parties managing Dad's care (me/family, the personal caregivers I hire from outside, the staff at the facility, the hospice company, and his PCP), and it took six days for anyone to inform me that he'd been given Haldol to "manage" his wandering.

Such a fucking mess. I saw him tonight and he complained about his balance; the best I could do was tell him it should get better over the weekend. I hope to god it does; he apparently nearly fell on his way into lunch.

ARGH.

Once I got off the mountain at work, the drive home wasn't bad. The roads are even drying out here in the valley. So now I'm home for the weekend or until I get bored. It's going to be cold but sunny, so Sunday I'll probably go to the comics store and decide if I'm going to cancel my holds, because the 2nd iteration of Civil War in Marvel was no less annoying than the first one. Plus Cap is still wrong in the head.

Holy shit, Suela.

oh god Consuela, that "nurse" sounds like a lawsuit waiting to happen.

oh god Consuela, that "nurse" sounds like a lawsuit waiting to happen.

Yeah, that should be malpractice.

ION, we just trimmed the kitty's claws and now I feel like a need a double bourbon and extra therapy appointments. But every claw is trimmed, by god, even the dewclaws.

That's terrible, Consuela! I'm glad someone stepped up to loop in the PCP. What a mess. I hope your dad is more like himself soon.