So, my mom is still in the Surgical Intensive Care Unit, although she's doing much better. She's off the vent entirely, eating some, talking some, although still in alot of pain.
Some pencil-pusher in the insurance company, however, has decided it's time to come home for her. God only knows where they got that idea at. Hey, asshole, people don't go straight from intensive care to their house. She still can't walk, can't even sit up on her own, still has IV's and meds out the wazoo; she lives alone, and the only relative that lives within an hour is my grandmother, who has a hard enough time getting around herself. I can't just suddenly move home for a month, and my brother is going back to Iraq in a few days.
Here's a clue, dingbats: If you have to pay for transportation to get somebody home because they'd have to go home in an AMBULANCE, maybe they aren't quite ready.
Diffrent wing of the hospital? Okay. Rehab facility? Perfect. Setting up a hospital bed in her living room? NOT AN OPTION, ASSHAT.
And it pisses me off because I'm suppossed to be the person that makes calls like this, fight with these people if need be, and I'm stuck four hours away with school and work. Fortunatly, if anybody can straighten these people out, it's my yuppie queen of an aunt, backed up by my mom's loud, short-tempered ex-steelworker friend.
UPDATE: Well, I just talked to my brother, and it looks like they're going to move her to a rehab facility. I think another couple of days in the hospital wouldn't hurt, but at least they aren't pushing her out the door altogether.
Really, after the initial few days, this has gone remarkably well. She was hurt really bad, literally dead when the medics got to the car. Even after they got her stable the list of potential and likely complications and procedures went on, and on, and on. But we hit very few of them. For the most part, the hospital simply had to keep her alive and stay out of the way, she has done most of the healing herself. Now the most critical things are out of the way: she is no longer bleeding internally and can breathe mostly-good by herself, now we just have to wait for the fractures to heal. Which is certainly no fun, but amazingly farther along than we thought she would be a week and a half ago, lying unconsious with machines keeping her alive and running down the seemingly never-ending list of injuries and possibilities. Thank God for small favors.