I got a call from mom this morning that she could not get her condo gate open to let in Carmen (her maid) and"your sister locked it yesterday so she messed it up". Whew....that was a refreshing change....usually I get the blame and I'm so used to it, I almost laughed that my sister finally got some!! Man, you can bet I'm gonna be all over that with her.
So, I threw my raincoat on over my robe and headed the whole 1.5 minutes (if you hit all the lights right) to her condo. Mom comes out her back door dressed exactly like me--OK....that is not a good feeling. Her gate lock was goofed up and my key wouldn't go in--even after some WD40. (And, yes, it was the right key, so don't go all Bruce Harris on me.)
What made me so sad was, mom's cognitive skills are decreased such that it didn't occur to her to let Carmen in, through the front door. Her short term memory and her ability to reason things out is just gone. As in goodbye--not coming back. So, I am her Bat phone. If she has a problem, it's mine, and we go on from there. I can always call my sister for help--no worries there--and she does LOTS of other stuff for mom. Thank God I have a sister. I don't know how only children do this and my brother is about as helpful as tits on boar hog, so forget him. (I'm not bashing all brothers here--just mine.) And when I write my best selling novel about my family, you'll know why.
Anyway, after two trips over there ( you don't even want to know why) Carmen is in, and mom should be heading soon to the Beauty "Saloon" or "hair hut", as mom calls it. Another crisis handled and it's not even noon. Dementia sucks.
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