Where to begin? It's been a crazy week. And timing is everything, and this morning, I happened to have an appointment with my pain doctor, as well as a very tightly scheduled session with my therapist (on the phone, on the ride back to the office). And I pretty much stupefied my therapist with the goings-on. And by stupefied, he told me candidly that he was happy but exhausted hearing it all--and he lumped some major praise on me too. And I told him that if this is what a social worker does, I'm not cut out for it!
Like I said, my sister called me last week, so it's been about eight days since, and we've been texting each other regularly.
Saturday I went to Jersey for a visit. As is my norm, I stopped at Delicious Orchards to get a blast of dopamine up front, to bolster or buoy me for visiting my mom--this would be my first visit seeing her in the nursing home. So I loaded myself down with coffee and cheeses and smoked meats, and of course, the cinnamon cider donuts of which I'm so fond, and continued southward.
I set a timer for myself, as I didn't want to lose the whole day (and chances were good mom would've kicked me out of there earlier than I'd like), and set the ringer nice and loud, so she knew when her 15 minute warning was.
The visit was good, and productive, I think. And I will isolate a somewhat linear discussion I had with mom, and the title of that is a line of dialogue from Shawshank Redemption, "Either get busy living, or get busy dying," and save the content of my side of the discussion for a separate post.
As I was gearing up to head to a very late lunch with my sister and niece, my aunt texted me to see how the visit went, and I suggested she call mom herself, as I was en route to see my sister, so a longer discussion would be forthcoming later, and I was interested to see how much of what I said to mom actually TOOK ROOT.
Now, as ever, talking to mom is a dizzying game of "telephone," where she hears what she wants and then parrots back to people what she thinks they want to hear--and oftentimes what she tells other people are outright lies. So I don't know how much of that is the nature of being a granddaughter of a Calabrese nonna, or if it's her borderline personality disorder, or is her memory retention just THAT DODGEY?
The long and the short of it is, mom did manage to process what I had to say, and to know more about what was said, you'll have to wait until I peck out the dialogue--possibly tomorrow.
I arrived at my sister's church (where they were having a rummage sale), just as they were wrapping everything up. I had hoped to go to the bathroom right before seeing her for the first time in 2 years and 7 months; however, as I ran to the restroom, she barrelled out of the ladies room. I gave her a pre-piss hug, and met up with her afterwards in the parish hall.
Before our car pulled out of the lot on our way to get something to eat, I had my niece get out of the car. I had my sister shut her door. And I apologized to my niece for hurting her in May at the bridal shower when I didn't go out of my way to acknowledge her. She hugged me back and said she was confused too, and didn't know how to handle things, either.
Lunch was pleasant, odd, and familiar all at once. We decided not to let mom know we are talking. While, yes, it's cruel to let her continue to think we aren't speaking; however, we both are looking at this as a second chance at being sisters, and are pretty protective of this thing, and don't want mom's interference or influence on it.
We made plans, set boundaries, and hope to manage expectations. Plans have been made where they will come up to see me for Thanksgiving, sleep over and head home on Friday. Other plans have been talked about, classes and what have you. I've only got three more years with my niece before she goes away to college--and I'm hoping she ends up getting interested in an internship in my office for possibly the summer before she graduates--so I'll get her for the summer (perhaps).
We drove back to the church where I got my car, and we managed to talk for another hour or so, and could have gone on longer, and I blurted out, "We need to go. More talking and texting later."
Before heading home, I zapped my aunt a text and asked if she was up for a visit--as I could have benefited from stopping there, as it's a halfway point home, and she declined. I ended up visiting a friend's house, about a half hour from home, ostensibly to tie a rahki on him and give blessings and sweets as I missed the holiday this year. The visit was short, and I must have looked like a wreck (I was on the go for about 13 hours).
I got home and was an absolute wreck.
Not unlike today. So, I used up all my fortitude to get myself washed and dressed and out the door and to the doctor appointment and have the therapy session before work... and my job right now is to be a human potato until the end of the work day, when I can go and get a well deserved deep tissue massage (with a possibility of a hot bath when I get home).
Wednesday, August 16, 2017
Wednesday, August 9, 2017
8/9/17 If I had my way
... I'd keep the older of mom's two brothers from calling her.
From someone who heard him say it to her on the phone:
Yeah. One small consolation I will have is knowing when my mom ultimately passes away, I won't have anything to do with this asshole again.
From someone who heard him say it to her on the phone:
"So, are you the only resident bed wetter there?"
Yeah. One small consolation I will have is knowing when my mom ultimately passes away, I won't have anything to do with this asshole again.
8/9/17
Last night my sister called, and I answered the phone. We spoke for two hours.
In all likelihood, mom won't be returning home. She's a great quitter. She told her physical therapist to go fuck himself.
The prevailing thought was we had 100 days until we had to worry about liquidating her house. But the system appears to be set up in such a way where they get everything organized (vis-a-vis financials) so that if/when a determination is made where if she is NOT returning home, the nursing home sets mom up on self-pay until such time she runs out of cash (which at this point will be roughly 9-12 months, depending on how much her house sells for).
I'm pretty numb, or insulated or maybe I am too logical or perhaps it all hasn't hit me yet. It's a lot to process to think that before Thanksgiving is even here, mom's house won't be hers anymore.
I'm processing how the last visit I planned (first, for Mother's Day, and then later, in the beginning of July--which ended up getting cancelled), would have been THE last visit where mom was still reasonably still "herself" and in her home with her things, her precious books, and above all else, intimacy/privacy (which a nursing home doesn't afford). It's a lot to process.
Is this what death is? You die a thousand deaths, some at the molecular level, until the day you draw your final breath.
There's a lot to unpack from the conversation with my sister, stuff that is between she and I. But at the moment, our focus is on mom.
And thinking about yesterday's conversation with mom, how I had that moment where I felt like this is what normal mother-daughter relationships are like. And it made me sad. She's capable of it. And I don't know if it's she's unwilling or incapable of being that way 24/7. It's almost cruel.
I like to think the "real" mom is the one who was loving and affectionate to me yesterday. The problem is, the monster inhabits the same body.
As of this moment, we know mom's pretty much giving up her will to live because: 1. She isn't eating; and 2. She isn't calling anyone. However, knowing how she's vacillating wildly from lucid to NOT (mostly NOT, but she really sounds like she's normal up to a point), it might be just as well that she's not calling people, as the monster is the prominent personality, and who the hell knows what kind of awful things she'll tell "outsiders."
In all likelihood, mom won't be returning home. She's a great quitter. She told her physical therapist to go fuck himself.
The prevailing thought was we had 100 days until we had to worry about liquidating her house. But the system appears to be set up in such a way where they get everything organized (vis-a-vis financials) so that if/when a determination is made where if she is NOT returning home, the nursing home sets mom up on self-pay until such time she runs out of cash (which at this point will be roughly 9-12 months, depending on how much her house sells for).
I'm pretty numb, or insulated or maybe I am too logical or perhaps it all hasn't hit me yet. It's a lot to process to think that before Thanksgiving is even here, mom's house won't be hers anymore.
I'm processing how the last visit I planned (first, for Mother's Day, and then later, in the beginning of July--which ended up getting cancelled), would have been THE last visit where mom was still reasonably still "herself" and in her home with her things, her precious books, and above all else, intimacy/privacy (which a nursing home doesn't afford). It's a lot to process.
Is this what death is? You die a thousand deaths, some at the molecular level, until the day you draw your final breath.
There's a lot to unpack from the conversation with my sister, stuff that is between she and I. But at the moment, our focus is on mom.
And thinking about yesterday's conversation with mom, how I had that moment where I felt like this is what normal mother-daughter relationships are like. And it made me sad. She's capable of it. And I don't know if it's she's unwilling or incapable of being that way 24/7. It's almost cruel.
I like to think the "real" mom is the one who was loving and affectionate to me yesterday. The problem is, the monster inhabits the same body.
As of this moment, we know mom's pretty much giving up her will to live because: 1. She isn't eating; and 2. She isn't calling anyone. However, knowing how she's vacillating wildly from lucid to NOT (mostly NOT, but she really sounds like she's normal up to a point), it might be just as well that she's not calling people, as the monster is the prominent personality, and who the hell knows what kind of awful things she'll tell "outsiders."
Tuesday, August 8, 2017
Mom, Today 8/8/17
Last time I spoke to her was Friday, right before she was being transported to the rehab facility. My aunt provided me mom's phone # and room #, and despite attempts on Sunday and Monday, there was no answer on mom's room phone. Today, I decided to call in the middle of the day, and I managed to get a hold of her.
She sounded more "with it" than on Thursday (the call wherein she conveyed she feels like my sister is holding her against her will) and my chat on Friday was so brief, I didn't get much of a handle on her mental state that day. But today she sounds more like herself, albeit a bit tired--and I thought for a hot second perhaps they had her on antidepressants.
She rehashed a bit of what she said in Thursday's conversation, and when she just barely touched on the notion of being held against her will, I asked her pointedly, "How much do you trust me?" She replied, "With my life. Just like you trusted me with yours." (I suspect she meant while I was still in her belly.)
I then blurted out, "Don't make me cry. But how much do you trust me? And even though you DO trust me, IF you didn't trust me, you trust your sister, right? Well, we both do not believe you are being held against your will. So get that thought out of your head. When that crazy voice starts talking, you tell that voice to STFU." My pep talk continued.
"And even though people aren't visiting or calling you every day, you have a LOT of people who are thinking of you, and hoping for the best. Your first job you need to do right now is sleep as much as you can. You can't rush a bone healing. Your SECOND job right now is to do the best you can and apply yourself when you go for your daily physical therapy. Your mindset is JUST as important." You need to keep yourself mentally strong." It was at this point she informed me that my brother told her the same thing.
One good thing to come out of this chat is that she has a social worker she spoke with either today or yesterday. And I told mom to make good use out of those chats, and to speak with the social worker every opportunity she has.
I think it was a good chat. Who knows which version of mom's personality I'll encounter when I talk to her tomorrow. But at least in this moment, she trusts me with her life, and my call served to remind her she's not alone.
I feel a bit weird tagging this with the DeathWatch 2017 tag, but the tag stays put. For now.
She sounded more "with it" than on Thursday (the call wherein she conveyed she feels like my sister is holding her against her will) and my chat on Friday was so brief, I didn't get much of a handle on her mental state that day. But today she sounds more like herself, albeit a bit tired--and I thought for a hot second perhaps they had her on antidepressants.
She rehashed a bit of what she said in Thursday's conversation, and when she just barely touched on the notion of being held against her will, I asked her pointedly, "How much do you trust me?" She replied, "With my life. Just like you trusted me with yours." (I suspect she meant while I was still in her belly.)
I then blurted out, "Don't make me cry. But how much do you trust me? And even though you DO trust me, IF you didn't trust me, you trust your sister, right? Well, we both do not believe you are being held against your will. So get that thought out of your head. When that crazy voice starts talking, you tell that voice to STFU." My pep talk continued.
"And even though people aren't visiting or calling you every day, you have a LOT of people who are thinking of you, and hoping for the best. Your first job you need to do right now is sleep as much as you can. You can't rush a bone healing. Your SECOND job right now is to do the best you can and apply yourself when you go for your daily physical therapy. Your mindset is JUST as important." You need to keep yourself mentally strong." It was at this point she informed me that my brother told her the same thing.
One good thing to come out of this chat is that she has a social worker she spoke with either today or yesterday. And I told mom to make good use out of those chats, and to speak with the social worker every opportunity she has.
I think it was a good chat. Who knows which version of mom's personality I'll encounter when I talk to her tomorrow. But at least in this moment, she trusts me with her life, and my call served to remind her she's not alone.
I feel a bit weird tagging this with the DeathWatch 2017 tag, but the tag stays put. For now.
Friday, August 4, 2017
Mom, Today, 8/4/17
This morning I fielded a call from mom bugging out a bit on her cell. It was a non-linear conversation which contained a few fragmented thoughts from her:
Of course, given this weirdness with my sister, it'd be all too convenient for me to jump to the conclusion that she's going to keep mom from going home; however, I'll give her the benefit of the doubt here. Even my aunt heartily concurs that this isn't the case.
I then brought up the fact mom wanted me to contact Bob (I guess to report it--she lost her thought process before she could finish that sentence), and seemed almost to wake up when I asked why should I call and she replied, "I don't know."
Her glucose continues to hover around 200-220. The food she's being given to eat is not only gross, but it's also not conducive to someone who is diabetic (i.e. not a lot of lean protein or steamed veggies, the fruits aren't low glycemic (when I was there it was canned mandarin oranges--and I don't care if the can says "sugar free" oranges are not good for people with diabetes. PERIOD.), and the bread is standard white, fluffy high glycemic index bread.
The problem not just is in the food that's provided, but also, she's not eating. And that's having a result too.
Another "gem" that came out when I spoke with my aunt was how mom wanted her to go back to mom's house to get mom's supply of vicodin, put it in a baggie and bring it back to the hospital. Of course, my aunt refused to do this!
My next step was to text my uncle T in Florida, to see what he could tell me about whatever conversation he had with mom that involved his friend Bob. I said, "Being in law enforcement myself, I know enough that if mom were to report anything to anyone, it'd be a cop from the local PD, not someone from northern NJ."
So we hurry up and wait. And it's a weird kind of waiting. I am not sure if I elucidated this previously, but the timeline here is kind of eerie, harkening back to the summer of 2008 with dad's final health crises and hospitalization.
He ended up in the hospital 1-2x towards the end of July, was in and out in August (went home, sold his truck, and re-homed all his birds and his sister came down and got his dog), and back into the hospital he went, and soon thereafter was the surgery at the end of September, and by the end of October he was gone.
So, my 40th birthday in 2008 was the last birthday dad was alive; and now I'm wondering if my 49th birthday will be the last birthday where mom is alive.
Everything else (i.e. the bullshit with my sister) all seems so unimportant right now.
- She thinks my sister is conspiring to keep her in the hospital against her will;
- She wants me to contact this guy Bob, who is a retired cop, who is a friend of her brother--when I pressed her "Why should I call Bob?" She replied, "I don't know."
- She doesn't feel well, she's out of sorts, doesn't feel like herself;
- She feels like she's going to die in there and that will be the next thing I know;
- She feels like her house burnt to the ground and no one told her and she's staying in the hospital because she has no where to go;
- "What has happened to my life? I've never had complaints about my life before, now look at what a mess it is."
- Is her glucose impacting her memory & mood (I'm sure it is, to a degree);
- Is there something else going on? (TIA, mini stroke, or did the fall hurt her brain too?);
- Is this her trying to garner sympathy or otherwise manipulate me?
Of course, given this weirdness with my sister, it'd be all too convenient for me to jump to the conclusion that she's going to keep mom from going home; however, I'll give her the benefit of the doubt here. Even my aunt heartily concurs that this isn't the case.
I then brought up the fact mom wanted me to contact Bob (I guess to report it--she lost her thought process before she could finish that sentence), and seemed almost to wake up when I asked why should I call and she replied, "I don't know."
Her glucose continues to hover around 200-220. The food she's being given to eat is not only gross, but it's also not conducive to someone who is diabetic (i.e. not a lot of lean protein or steamed veggies, the fruits aren't low glycemic (when I was there it was canned mandarin oranges--and I don't care if the can says "sugar free" oranges are not good for people with diabetes. PERIOD.), and the bread is standard white, fluffy high glycemic index bread.
The problem not just is in the food that's provided, but also, she's not eating. And that's having a result too.
Another "gem" that came out when I spoke with my aunt was how mom wanted her to go back to mom's house to get mom's supply of vicodin, put it in a baggie and bring it back to the hospital. Of course, my aunt refused to do this!
My next step was to text my uncle T in Florida, to see what he could tell me about whatever conversation he had with mom that involved his friend Bob. I said, "Being in law enforcement myself, I know enough that if mom were to report anything to anyone, it'd be a cop from the local PD, not someone from northern NJ."
So we hurry up and wait. And it's a weird kind of waiting. I am not sure if I elucidated this previously, but the timeline here is kind of eerie, harkening back to the summer of 2008 with dad's final health crises and hospitalization.
He ended up in the hospital 1-2x towards the end of July, was in and out in August (went home, sold his truck, and re-homed all his birds and his sister came down and got his dog), and back into the hospital he went, and soon thereafter was the surgery at the end of September, and by the end of October he was gone.
So, my 40th birthday in 2008 was the last birthday dad was alive; and now I'm wondering if my 49th birthday will be the last birthday where mom is alive.
Everything else (i.e. the bullshit with my sister) all seems so unimportant right now.
Thursday, August 3, 2017
So. She Called.
This post is about whatever transpired after I left the hospital on Saturday and roughly 2 p.m. Sunday.
I'm driving home on Sunday and my phone began to ring. It was my sister. I did not pick up (because, HELLO! I was driving!).
I got home, and the Maharajah and I listened to the message. He turned to me and said, "Call her back and end this."
Her message:
"Hi. It's me. Mom is fine. I just wanted to call you and talk to you for a couple minutes if you have time. If you get a chance, give me a call back, or if not, I guess I'll talk to you... whatever. Bye."
So yeah. Color me confused, especially considering the last communication from her was so awful. I'm really tired of this game. It's annoying and boring me more than anything else, to be honest. I called back and this was my reply:
"Hi. This is me, calling you back."
That was Sunday; here it is Thursday, 5:13 p.m., and still no reply by phone or text. And I'm okay with that.
To be honest, I am not interested in having a relationship with her. I don't trust her. And where there is no trust, what is left, really?
I then called mom to find out WTF is going on, and allegedly (reminder: Audrey IS a Category Five Manipulator, and my sister's voicemail had mom's greasy finger prints all over it). Allegedly, my sister claims to want to end this. Mom said, "if you call her, she'll either answer the phone or call you back." That was what prompted the call. I guess, guilt. And my sister *did* the bare minimum and called, so at least she could tell mom she called and not be a liar. It doesn't matter that now SHE is not taking my call, so again, she's back in the power position, a position I did not want her to be in--this was the entire reason why I did not want to be the one to try and call her--because she never fucking answers her phone.
I'm now left with this prevailing feeling of being made to look like a fool--and even less inclined to go out of my way for anyone, Audrey, my sister, whomever.
This right here is worse than a death. At least a death has an endpoint. This insanity has no end in sight.
Post-Visit Play-by-Play & Then Some
As I mentioned in the previous post, Maharajah and myself made the thankless drive to the shore to visit mom at the hospital.
The traffic was uneventful (shocking actually!), we made great time (2 hours, tops!). We got to the hospital around 3 p.m., and I intended on staying until 6. We had a decent enough visit, and by the two hour mark, she informed me, "I don't want to hurt your feelings, but please leave." And off I went!
Some details lacking therein: I looked over the list of rehab facilities, and I weighed in on that, making a suggestion of a place that isn't on the list. Also, about 45 minutes before mom kicked me out, she was in pain and asked for a tylenol, and despite my going to the nurses station to ask for it, 45 minutes elapsed and she still hadn't gotten her tylenol. So, by 5:30 I left, and went to the pharmacy to get the tylenol, and Maharajah ferried it up to her room, and as fate would have it, the nurses FINALLY got around to giving her the tylenol.
My plan: I don't plan on going there for another week or so, and mom's sister made yet another trip there yesterday to see her. And since I don't want to fuck up my birthday weekend with a trip to the shore for more negativity, it looks likely NEXT weekend I'll be making a trip, hopefully paratrooper style, where I "hit it and quit it," get in and out as quickly as possible.
A HUGE take-away from my conversation with my aunt was her uttering this sentence to me, which just stupefied me that anyone "from the outside" saw my mother the way I do:
So, much in the way my sister has used mom’s hospitalization as an excuse and opportunity to be a monster to me (because I’m not acting how she expects/wants/demands), not-to-be-out-done, mom has lashed out at mom’s oldest friend (friend of 60 years), calling her friend and informing her how mom expected other people to let her down but never thought that her oldest friend would let her down. (Mind you, her friend has mobility issues of her own, and also has family issues, i.e. her daughter has MS that is out of remission.)
Furthermore, mom also appended this (to my aunt) by saying, “AND I DON’T CARE IF I HURT HER.” I said to my aunt, that if “I” lashed out at my best friend like that, I’d be too ashamed to even share that information, and certainly wouldn’t be sharing that detail with other people! Now mind you, all my life, I had wished that my mom's friend were my mom. She is without a doubt the sweetest woman--perhaps even sweeter than my mother-in-law (of whom I view as a goddess). I would have to really strain myself to find even one remotely negative thing to say about her. And for my mom to basically SHRED her and not give a damn? What a monster!
I said to my aunt, “It’s a good thing you called me at 9 p.m. If she’s going to be a mean “little” girl, then I’m putting her in a time out and not able to call her now.” As my aunt was getting ready to leave the hospital, she said, “See you tomorrow!” And mom replied, “If I don’t die in the middle of the night.” Granted, I know that unstable blood glucose can make people downright nasty; however, the skeptic that I am, I am believing that glucose is only 50% of the equation—the other 50% is mom’s innate nastiness/manipulative nature.
As horrible as that is as a statement to conclude a visit, to wallow in death ideation, if she just wants to die so badly, why even be in the hospital at all? Why bother with the charade? If she wants to die--JUST DIE. We all have better things to do with our lives than to go through this circus yet one more time.
Also, if she did die in the middle of the night, I'd be upset, naturally, however, my focus right now is to think about her friend B, and how she probably was having a lovely-enough day up until mom abused her on the phone, and knowing how B probably spent the greater portion of the afternoon weeping as a result.
I'm more worried about B than Audrey. And while I do think that as mom's best friend, she probably knows how vicious mom can be to others. I just hope this was the first and only time mom has been vicious to B. I can only deduce that YES it was the first and only, because any other rational person who is not related to her by birth or marriage would have ended the friendship DECADES ago.
I said to my aunt how it’s now become obvious to me that my relationship with my mom is (as it's always been) unbalanced, that even though from the outside looking in, it might seem like my relationship with her is better now than it’s been in years (and better than my sister's relationship with her), and it might be true, but it’s not because Audrey was doing ANY of the heavy lifting involved to keep the relationship afloat. The mere appearance of the relationship being goodish is entirely due to me doing the heavy lifting, retraining myself and my impulses, and that mom has remained the same person she always has been. I have been the one who has been doing all the giving, and she has been doing all the taking (and benefiting from it).
8/4/17 ETA: Mom lashing out at her friend B turns out to be the very first time in their 60 year friendship that mom lost her shit with B. SIXTY YEARS. I'm impressed!
The traffic was uneventful (shocking actually!), we made great time (2 hours, tops!). We got to the hospital around 3 p.m., and I intended on staying until 6. We had a decent enough visit, and by the two hour mark, she informed me, "I don't want to hurt your feelings, but please leave." And off I went!
Some details lacking therein: I looked over the list of rehab facilities, and I weighed in on that, making a suggestion of a place that isn't on the list. Also, about 45 minutes before mom kicked me out, she was in pain and asked for a tylenol, and despite my going to the nurses station to ask for it, 45 minutes elapsed and she still hadn't gotten her tylenol. So, by 5:30 I left, and went to the pharmacy to get the tylenol, and Maharajah ferried it up to her room, and as fate would have it, the nurses FINALLY got around to giving her the tylenol.
My plan: I don't plan on going there for another week or so, and mom's sister made yet another trip there yesterday to see her. And since I don't want to fuck up my birthday weekend with a trip to the shore for more negativity, it looks likely NEXT weekend I'll be making a trip, hopefully paratrooper style, where I "hit it and quit it," get in and out as quickly as possible.
A HUGE take-away from my conversation with my aunt was her uttering this sentence to me, which just stupefied me that anyone "from the outside" saw my mother the way I do:
"Well, we all know what a manipulator your mom can be."To date, Audrey is still in the hospital. Not sure when she’ll be released to a rehab facility. My aunt doesn’t believe mom will ever go home by the way. I’m a smidge more optimistic. We won’t know anything for sure, if she’ll go home or not, until 6 weeks have passed, as it takes 6 weeks for a bone to heal up. So mom’s job right now is to try to rest as much as she can, then once she’s in the rehab facility, she should really apply herself. As I told my aunt, “if she hasn’t even gone to the rehab facility and thinks she won’t go home ever, then it’ll be a self-fulfilling prophesy and she won’t ever go home.
So, much in the way my sister has used mom’s hospitalization as an excuse and opportunity to be a monster to me (because I’m not acting how she expects/wants/demands), not-to-be-out-done, mom has lashed out at mom’s oldest friend (friend of 60 years), calling her friend and informing her how mom expected other people to let her down but never thought that her oldest friend would let her down. (Mind you, her friend has mobility issues of her own, and also has family issues, i.e. her daughter has MS that is out of remission.)
Furthermore, mom also appended this (to my aunt) by saying, “AND I DON’T CARE IF I HURT HER.” I said to my aunt, that if “I” lashed out at my best friend like that, I’d be too ashamed to even share that information, and certainly wouldn’t be sharing that detail with other people! Now mind you, all my life, I had wished that my mom's friend were my mom. She is without a doubt the sweetest woman--perhaps even sweeter than my mother-in-law (of whom I view as a goddess). I would have to really strain myself to find even one remotely negative thing to say about her. And for my mom to basically SHRED her and not give a damn? What a monster!
I said to my aunt, “It’s a good thing you called me at 9 p.m. If she’s going to be a mean “little” girl, then I’m putting her in a time out and not able to call her now.” As my aunt was getting ready to leave the hospital, she said, “See you tomorrow!” And mom replied, “If I don’t die in the middle of the night.” Granted, I know that unstable blood glucose can make people downright nasty; however, the skeptic that I am, I am believing that glucose is only 50% of the equation—the other 50% is mom’s innate nastiness/manipulative nature.
As horrible as that is as a statement to conclude a visit, to wallow in death ideation, if she just wants to die so badly, why even be in the hospital at all? Why bother with the charade? If she wants to die--JUST DIE. We all have better things to do with our lives than to go through this circus yet one more time.
Also, if she did die in the middle of the night, I'd be upset, naturally, however, my focus right now is to think about her friend B, and how she probably was having a lovely-enough day up until mom abused her on the phone, and knowing how B probably spent the greater portion of the afternoon weeping as a result.
I'm more worried about B than Audrey. And while I do think that as mom's best friend, she probably knows how vicious mom can be to others. I just hope this was the first and only time mom has been vicious to B. I can only deduce that YES it was the first and only, because any other rational person who is not related to her by birth or marriage would have ended the friendship DECADES ago.
I said to my aunt how it’s now become obvious to me that my relationship with my mom is (as it's always been) unbalanced, that even though from the outside looking in, it might seem like my relationship with her is better now than it’s been in years (and better than my sister's relationship with her), and it might be true, but it’s not because Audrey was doing ANY of the heavy lifting involved to keep the relationship afloat. The mere appearance of the relationship being goodish is entirely due to me doing the heavy lifting, retraining myself and my impulses, and that mom has remained the same person she always has been. I have been the one who has been doing all the giving, and she has been doing all the taking (and benefiting from it).
8/4/17 ETA: Mom lashing out at her friend B turns out to be the very first time in their 60 year friendship that mom lost her shit with B. SIXTY YEARS. I'm impressed!
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