Three More Calls Today

... which I let roll right to voicemail. 

No update received. 
Nothing to discuss.
Not about to indulge Audrey's attention whoring.

Whether sis has cancer or no? Yeah. That's all about my sister, not about Audrey. 

And in this sick, twisted game of "telephone twattery," if I dare to answer the phone, then that somehow gives Audrey tacit license to call ME 30-40 times a day. 

Ain't nobody got time for that!

Dare I check my voicemail?

Another Rousing Game of Telephone

SO. 

My sister may or may not have bronchial carcinoma. Or it might be scar tissue and pneumonia (this is the latest thing being bandied about by the pulmonologist).

My sister called me and let me know what was what, and I honored my promise to keep it to myself, not to call mom or my brother. 

After mom called my sister for like the thirtieth time today, my sister (fully jacked on Xanax) blurted out how she hadn't been feeling well, was in the hospital, and by the way, hey, it might be lung cancer.  

Mom then asked if sis was going to tell me and my brother, and my sister said, "Oh yes, I already told Maven. She's the only one in the family who can keep a secret." (I do, spectacularly, if I say so myself.)

So here it is, 2.5 months of mom in the nursing facility. And in that amount of time, my mother has called me precisely thrice, with two of those calls being today, and they were back to back, nearly the moment I got off the phone with my sister. (I let it roll to voicemail. Can't give the woman even an inch of leverage, otherwise she will be calling ME thirty times a day, at work.)

"I know you know. Call me."

Yeee hah! Let me get right on that.  (NOT.)

Sis will remain in hospital perhaps until Thurs/Friday. Thursday she has the bronchoscopy. Hopefully they will know more soon after.

In the meantime, hurry up and wait, and hope that it's scar tissue and pneumonia.

Still Waiting for the Other Shoe to Drop

Cliffnotes:
Besides getting no reply to my text "Hey how was mom's bday party?" Which was met with sis texting me a pic, I've received precisely one phone call. Well, perhaps several, but it doesn't count unless or until we actually TALK. She calls, doesn't bother leaving a voicemail. And I cannot be bothered to take the bait and break down and call to find out, "You called?" I text that, which of course, goes without reply. So she just keeps calling over the span of a week until I answer my phone. She has zero awareness that she's doing precisely what mom does, her loathesome game of "telephone."

Sis calls. Tells me she's done. And tells me that my brother and I can sort it out. She and her husband are stretched to their limits (a trap of their own design, by the way). Implications were made that she's doing this on my behalf, which of course were met with me reminding her that she's not doing what she's doing FOR ME, but FOR MOM. I wouldn't put my sister in that type of position.  Bottom line? She's fried. Justifiably so, but again, she wouldn't be, if she put up reasonable, healthy boundaries. Mom calls 30X a day? Sis answers 10, which I feel is still too many. It's exhausting for me to even know this. I don't have to imagine ho exhausting it is to live it.

So I follow up our chat with an email reminding her that there is such a thing as filing a petition for conservatorship, and that if no one in the family is willing or able to do so, a judge can appoint a conservator to oversee mom's finances and care. 

And of course! OF COURSE! That rational, sane suggestion is met with silence. I made the suggestion she speak with her priest to find out if she can recommend any attorneys that specialize in elder law. It's been a week, and I'm just getting radio silence.  

Fast Breaking News From Shady Pines

Audrey broke the Hoyer.

(Quickly scampers off to Google to see what the maximum weight capacity is for the lift..."interesting...hmmmm.")*

Conversation started typical enough:

Me: Your phone's been on the blink.
Her: Everyone says that.
Me: No. Seriously. I called you the other night, and it went to the switch board, and they couldn't transfer me back to your room.
(When she didn't get what she wanted, me getting irritated by being called a liar, she went on to detail how the Hoyer broke while she was suspended in it.)

Conversation couldn't have been more than 7 minutes. I got into what's going on here, and before you know it, "Oh, the nurse is here. Gotta go." By the time I hung up the phone, the husband was LOLing HARD in the kitchen. "She pulled a Kathy on you!" Oh did he laugh and laugh! It was like it was Christmas and giggles snowed down from the skies he was laughing so hard. Which then, of course, made me laugh hard, because I never thought he paid that much attention to what goes on with my family.

No News is Goodish News, I Suppose

The last communication I had with my sister was either on or about Audrey's birthday. My text of, "How was the party?" Was met with zero reply, save for a solitary picture of Audrey in a birthday hat. End of story. Nothing further.

Turns out, my brother told my mother about our sister pretty much talking smack about me and my brother, and making digs about how we'll be there with our hands out at the end (when mom dies), and how we're not mind readers, that if sis needs help, she needs to say what it is, specifically she needs help with because, afterall, we're not mind readers.  

Allegedly mom's response to this was that we have our own family to worry about and how she doesn't want someone to help and then complain about her. Brother's reply was, "That's what you have currently."

So perhaps that's why the silence? Perhaps? I don't know. Don't much care. I'm just glad for it. Though, I was thinking about heading to Jersey this weekend, just to see mom, but not sure now about how I'd be received.  

Perhaps mom blurted it out to her? Perhaps words were said? I don't know. And I'm not taking the bait. At this point it's been 10 days since the party, and I haven't heard a peep out of my sister. And I won't be calling her ahead of time to say I'm heading to Jersey, so then she can start foisting her demands on me and my time, as if I don't have my own plans or agenda.

Bottom line brother made to mom was, "You want to go home? You need to walk again." So ultimately whether she comes home or stays put is entirely up to her.

And the sand in the hour glass continues to pour out... lost track of how many more days out of the 100 days  are left at this point.

Nothing New To Report, And In Some Ways, Yes.

Well, nothing related to Audrey that is.  I'm in an information vacuum from my sister. I suspect either nothing is going on, or perhaps she's assy because I haven't gone out of my way to be there (despite the obviousness of the horrible snowstorms we've had, and I've been sick twice with sinus infections). Either way, I'm okay with the silence. 

Though, I do have news regarding an aunt of mine (aunt by marriage, who is one year older than I am).  Some folks say I'm strong or I've got fortitude. I honestly don't know how this woman is able to get out of bed in the a.m. 

When we were in high school, I remember (vaguely) she had a brain tumor removed. I don't recall if it were cancerous or what. But I remember that being a huge drama (rightfully so). Cancer or no, if you get your skull cracked open and stuff is removed, and you're able to lead a functional life after, you should get a fucking free pass on any further health crisis, IMHO.

Several years ago, she was T-boned in a car accident which left her with an unpredictable, yet persistent brain injury, which at times will cause her body to seize up into spasms, and affect her speech. She's got a hell of a sense of humor to get thru this, as the times her speech is affected, she sounds alternately like she's Russian or Hispanic. I don't recall the nickname she's got for the Hispanic affectation; however, she refers to the Russian speech issue as "Natasha." Srsly, no words can convey how I just feel about this. Again... she should get a fucking free pass. 

Recently in the midst of the never-ending drama with Audrey, my aunt was diagnosed with breast cancer. She went in for a lumpectomy, and was told initially it was a stage II; however, she was given a blow recently saying she's also gotten liver and bone cancer (which has spread to her spine). I knew instinctively before she got the news on Friday that this wasn't merely a stage II, but a stage IV, with mets.   So she needs to get a port installed, they're starting chemo soon, and hope it will stall the spread of the other cancers long enough so she can go in for her mastectomy.

She's not an aunt by blood; and to be honest, in the near 30 years she's been married to my uncle, I've avoided investing too much of a relationship with her because of issues with my uncle. And also not to belabor the point, there were huge issues when she married my uncle, because GASP she had their first child out of wedlock! GASP! HARLOT! And there was MUCH LAMENTATION in the family. And much speculation my uncle threw away what could have been a lifetime career in the Coast Guard (he was on the precipice of joining--plus he had a reputation as a teenager as a troublemaker and had some scrapes with the law which he somehow got out of). And yet here they are, three decades later, for all intents and appearances still in love, three kids,  and now three grand kids. Her life has been one of defeating and beating the odds. 

I've said this elsewhere, but I'll say it again here: She is my Viking Warrior Aunt. If anyone can come out of this situation, it will be her. She's like a cat with nine lives. 

I've also said this elsewhere, but I'll say this again here: Clearly, she is not related to me by blood. I do not come from fighters, from warrior stock. Not sure how many generations this particular characteristic runs, perhaps just three generations. 

I think about how my ancestors were able to survive out of the primordial sludge of Creation, and survive pestilence and famine and wars and you name it, and emerge out of the Dark Ages right on thru the current writing, only for that fighting, survival instinct to just up and peter out three generations back. 

So whatever fight I've got left in me, it's not related to this aunt, as that relationship has budded only recently via cell phone texts. Whatever fight I've got left in me, whatever if manifesting itself right now, runs much much deeper, is hardwired deep in my DNA, and harkens back to forebears I've never met in this life, forebears perhaps that go so far back well beyond where my paper trail for my family tree ends. So to my as yet nameless, faceless, fighter forebears I say, "Thank you."  And to my friends reading this, I also say "Thank you," because sometimes I feel as if I ride on the shoulders of those warrior friends who have plodded ahead of me, and sometimes I feel as if I have my hand held (even in spirit). And sometimes? I feel perhaps my purpose in life is to hoist someone else up on my shoulders and lead the way.

Brief Birthday Greeting

Spoke briefly to mom today. She seemed somewhat and eerily normalish, kinda like the evil witch in Hansel and Gretel in full on, post-prandial afterglow.