For the good news, I am happy to announce my somewhat shaky grasp on sanity is scheduled to continue, uninterrupted for the foreseeable future.  There has been an endless stream of people parading in and out of this house today.  The nurse with her scheduled visit, Lisa with her unscheduled one, (yet, I let her in like the best friend I am), and the state case worker for the Aged and Disabled, of which Henrietta is both.  Together.  At the same time.  You’d think this would get me twice as much help.  Oh, really?  You wouldn’t?

Well anyway, it doesn’t matter what YOU thought cause I AM getting more help.  Can you hear me squealing like a little girl on a carnival ride?  I am.  EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!  How obnoxious is that?

The chick was here doing a re-certification that is done once a year and she happened to mention something about the caregiver provider person being able to come out and stay with H and provide help caring for her anywhere between one and four times a week.  To which I perked up and said, “Would I be eligible for her coming more often than twice a week?”  And dear, sweet Lisa chimed in, (and I swear this is true), “Yeah.  She is really, honestly going bat shit crazy up in here.”  She laid it out there evenly and calmly, as if providing evidence at a trial or something.

This is why I love her.

So the lady shuffled through some papers and mumbled some encouraging things because she was afraid for her life and had seen the crazed look in my eyes before she came up with some things that seemed to spell out a way for her to escape without injury to do just this.

So the new deal is that FOUR TIMES A WEEK I am going to get a body here to help me with H AND I will get to escape and go where ever I want and do whatever I want for THREE HOURS AT A TIME on those days.

TWELVE HOURS A WEEK. Me?  I am beside myself.  Yup.  I just looked and there I was, right beside me.  This is supposed to go into effect sometime next week and I am counting the days.

Here is H in her shiny new hospital bed.  It has got to be a solid foot longer than the twin bed.  So far she has rung her bell for me to come in and raise and lower the head of the bed for her every time she wants it changed.  It has an electric remote control just like the ones in the hospital.  She knew how to do it for herself when she was there… just not now that she’s home.  *sigh*


Am I ever coming back?  THAT IS THE QUESTION!  BWAHAHAHA! Fade out to maniacal laughter…