One Word Wednesday: Frustration

There are weeks when I have to ponder what I will write on a One Word Wednesday.  Not today.  Frustration has been the word of the month!

Some of you may have read the story behind my frustration here.  And now, a blood clot, a trip back into the hospital for a 'procedure' and finally, back at rehab.

I am so tired.  And I feel like I should be more rested. 

I mean, mom's in rehab.  Someone else is doing the cooking, the cleaning, dressing, bathing, worrying at night.  I should be less exhausted and not more.  And I am FRUSTRATED!

And I am convinced I know the root of my FRUSTRATION:  medical professionals who think they know more about my mom and what is best for her than I do.  Or worse yet, medical professionals who know but are unwilling to go the extra mile to make a difference.  (as stated in an earlier post - my mom has been blessed with probably the best doctor and nurse imaginable, but the administration/system and some of the therapists leave a little to be desired).

All you have to do is pick up or log onto any random article or interview or expert on Alzheimer's to know that each and every Alzheimer's patient is different.  The disease has some standard pathways, but there is no real pattern as to how each person will progress or respond throughout their life.

I know that.  The other caregivers in my life know that.  The nice people Maria Shriver talks to on the Today Show know that.  How is it the people at my mom's rehab facility don't know that?

How can they show me the private therapy room designed specifically to work with memory care patients and then not use it?  How can they ask me a series of question and then not listen to me?  How can they see something positive and disregard it because there is no guarantee of it happening again?

I could scream.  I don't, but I could.

Instead - I spend hours and hours at the rehab facility sitting with mom.  Going to her therapy sessions.  Encouraging (making) her stand up and sit down and take a few steps and put on her own shoes and pick up her own coffee mug. 
I've seen the bills for rehab and I've seen my bank account as a caregiver and I find it unacceptable that I am doing the lion share of the encouraging and motivating and pushing for mom's recovery.

And I am frustrated. 

I believe this post can officially be called venting or a rant, but man, it feels good to get that off my chest! 

For the record, today, I am spending the morning at home.  With my dog and my computer and a banana berry smoothie and my shoes off!!!  I still have giant bags under my eyes, but it's a step in the right direction.