if you were to ask...

... one of my two favorite people to give a short definition of the present situation, I am fairly certain it would be described as a 'big hot mess.' I am sure there is some way to be more specific and possibly a better way to express the gravity of the small crisis (is 'small crisis' an oxymoron?), but under the circumstances, it seems to be fairly accurate. The Mess involves my auntie, and her lack of ability to make decisions about her life.

If she were able to self-determine, she would insist on going home, back to the house she has not inhabited in a year. Even though it would be sadly obvious to anyone who spent ten minutes talking with her than she cannot manage her life, and will  not live independently. I don't know whether it is a good thing or a bad thing but she cannot remember much of anything: stuff from fifty years ago, yes, but five minutes ago: not so much, and certainly could not find her way home if she was out on the streets.

She was persuaded (and slightly deceived) about, almost, nearly a year ago, when she relocated and moved into an assisted living facility in south Georgia. At the time, it seemed like the best solution to the problem: she was unable to manage many facets of her life, and simply could not live independently. This sad fact is why I felt it was time to step in and find an attorney, apply for Guardianship and go to the Probate Court to get appointed as the person who would be responsible, 'take her on to raise' - even though she is considerably older than I. The Guardian can also petition the Court to become the Conservator, who would be the person appointed to manage finances, whereas the Guardian is primarily responsible for the care and well being of an individual who needs assistance, cannot live independently.

I am both of those things. Just put the paperwork in the mail today to send to Probate Court that reports on her status: physical, mental and financial. It has to be done once a year, which scares the stew out of me. Fearful I won't do something right, will miscalculate as I am prone to do as the terminally math-impaired person that I am. Creating a reason for me to be summoned to make an appearance before theProbate Judge, who will demand an explanation. Causing me to whine and grovel, beg and whimper, throw myself on the mercy of the court as I explain, exposing all my inadequacies, inabilities, failings, short-comings under oath.