Originally Posted October 1, 2008 (23 days before my dad died)

I’ve been avoiding calling my mother, and mercifully up until today (DAY FOUR) I thought she GOT the hint that for whatever reason I was avoiding her.

She called me at work (from what her voicemail here at home says), called me repeatedly on my cell, and of course kept calling me at home leaving messages, “I called at work, they said you were home…”  

What went through my mind:  “Excuse me Pitiful Pearl… I have a life, and part of that involved grocery shopping and laundry pick up/drop off, as well as a trip to the gastroenterologist.”

Anywho, I got the groceries put away, and I stripped down to my panties, bra and ankle socks and thought I was going to settle in for a nap. But before I did, I risked calling her, because I knew she would not stop until I answered, because of course, she’s got it in her head at this point I am intentionally avoiding her. Which I oh-so-obviously-AM.

So I called. I said that yes I was out of the office today and went to the doctor’s office. I reminded her that yes, I’ve been sick for a while, reminded her that yes I mentioned it to her, and NO I don’t know what is ultimately wrong, and won’t know until the endoscopy on the 17th.

She then prattled on and on about visiting my father, telling me details I already knew because my brother and sister have been fabulous about keeping me informed.
She then prattled about the nurse (I have named her KellyCunt–sorry all Kellys out there–but that’s her first name, unfortunately). I said that I don’t know what game is going on, all I know is sis says “talk to mom” and mom says “talk to sis” about the how or why KellyCunt is not giving out information when we call. I also said I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t really give a shit, all I know is that I live two hours away, and I can’t even call in to find out how my father is doing.

She then harped, yet again, about how or why he doesn’t want to see her. For the record: TODAY (10/1) her sister’s husband made an hour long drive to pick her up and drive 1/2 hour to the hospital, and push 400 pounds of manipulation, stinking like piss and misery, to my father’s ICU bedside, where my brother was.

Trying to keep it light, and on topic, and attempt to keep my seething rage in check I said, “Perhaps he doesn’t want to worry you. Perhaps he has some pride left and doesn’t want you to see him shit the bed. Perhaps he doesn’t want to seem HELPLESS as he’s anchored to that machine. Perhaps it’s because of frustrations related to the fact he cannot speak or eat or drink.  I don’t know why he doesn’t want you there, but the man has his reasons.”

She then prattled about how she “had it out” with my brother (when the REALITY was the other way around, HE “had it out” with HER)  this morning about how hostile he and his wife are to her.

She then started to reiterate that my brother mentioned what she said post-surgery when finding out dad survived. I finished up her sentence for her with exactly what my brother said. She stopped mid sentence at that point.

(Reminder: After dad survived the surgery mom quipped: “I guess he forgot what a shitty (ED:  or fucked up–does it matter at this point?) world this is.”)

Mom got quiet when she realized I am no longer attending the “Pity Party”  she hosts for herself, and that my siblings and I all TALK like normal folks do.

I replied, “Don’t you find it ODD that the first thing you managed to say after finding out your husband survived surgery was that?”

Her reply, “It’s how I felt.”

I replied, “Don’t you think it’s ODD your first response wasn’t THANK GOD MY HUSBAND SURVIVED?”

Her reply, “Look, he’s MY HUSBAND…”

I said, “How do you think it made US feel? I don’t know whether you realize this or not BUT WE ALL ARE INVOLVED IN THIS. WE ARE ALL WORRIED ABOUT HIM. Brother, sister and I have all been praying for him, and that’s what you managed to say?”

Her reply, “I don’t care… he’s MY HUSBAND AND I’LL SAY WHAT I WANT.”

(CAPS INTENTIONAL–AS MY RAGE WAS GROWING AND ABOUT TO BE BLASTED OUT OF SPACE AT THIS POINT.)

My response, “YES! AND THAT’S MIKE! (her abusive father who says the most horrendous shit to everyone and thinks he can get away with it). YES! THAT’S 100% MIKE (LAST NAME REDACTED)!!!! THAT’S JUST WHAT HE WOULD SAY!”
“WHETHER YOU WANT TO REALIZE IT OR NOT, BUT WE ARE ALL INVOLVED IN THIS, AND THAT DAD LOVES US ALL EQUALLY… AND NONE OF OUR GRIEF IS ANY MORE OR LESS THAN ANYONE ELSE’S HERE…. WE’RE ALL IN THIS TOGETHER!!!!!”
“AND YOU KNOW WHAT???!??!?!? I’M TIRED… I’VE BEEN TIRED… TIRED OF SPENDING THE LAST FORTY-FUCKING-YEARS FEELING AS IF I AM THE “OTHER WOMAN” IN YOUR FUCKING MARRIAGE!!!!!”

Then I hung up.

I never did get that nap.