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).
No comments:
Post a Comment