MoC has been at it again. She gets what she wants about 98% of the time and it is amazing to watch. I’m too lazy to dig through all my posts to get the links to prove my point, but if you’ve been reading for a while, you know that she’s the shit.
She had to decide whether to move to the hospital to an intensive rehab program or stay where she was at the rehab center. There were lots of factors involved, but one of them was that her room at the hospital would be a semi-private room, nothing like where she is now. At the rehab center, she has a private room that’s about half the size of my apartment. Another factor was that when she finished the program, she had to go home. She wouldn’t be able to return to the rehab center. MoC wanted three weeks at the hospital but they could only get her two – and so she decided to stay where she is. The plan is for her to work her ass off for a month and then go home.
My brother called me yesterday and told me that the social worker called him to tell him MoC had to move to a semi-private room. He is a gentle, sweet soul – until you piss him off. And the fastest way to piss him off is to mess with MoC. I told him I would call and find out what was going on.
MoC is a very intelligent woman. She’s also mild-mannered and easy-going. Her biggest weapon is to let other people underestimate her. It rarely fails. I’ve watched my mother convince people to do what she wants my entire life. She could talk you into jumping off a building and not only convince you it was a good idea, she can convince you it was your idea. It’s taken me years to mellow out and try to use a smile instead of a sledgehammer. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that banging my head on a wall rarely breaks it down and I’ve started employing my mother’s techniques. However, letting people underestimate me is still very difficult for me. When it’s for a good cause, though, I try.
So I called the social worker. I told her I’d talked to my brother and I was “confused” about why they wanted to move her to a semi-private room. I got a song and dance about how they reserved those rooms for short term patients, or patients who had infectious diseases. So I told her I understood, but that if she looked at my mom’s chart, she would see that my mother began to rapidly improve the moment they moved her into a private room. We talked some more and she agreed to meet me later that afternoon. I was fully prepared to say, “MoC, if we can’t find a way for you to keep the private room, I can start looking around at other facilities.”
When I got there, MoC was coming back from therapy and met us in the hallway. On the way back to the room, the social worker told me she had talked to the director and MoC was guaranteed 30 days in the private room. If she stayed longer, she’d have to move.
I thought I worked a minor miracle.
I should have known better.
MoC has been working it all week.
I don’t know what she said to them. What I do know is that the social worker was falling all over herself apologizing for the misunderstanding.
My mother is E.F. Hutton.
If you’re under 40, German, Canadian or British, you might have to watch the video to get the reference.