I know it’s no excuse not to have been reading or writing. We’ve all been impacted by this unholy pandemic. All I can say is that even with all this inanity going on, there’s been enough bonus stressors to make it difficult to spend time thinking and not being in a state of utter bewilderment.
Being an American, the political nonsense has been epic. I won’t go into details, or mumble about my political leanings – it’s just been embarrassing on so many levels. The pain of the communities who have lost members due to poor policing has been gutting and totally amcked me in the face, repeatedly, with my own white privilege. The physical demands of healing from the knee replacement have been taxing, but they are easing. I can only credit my amazing care team. But the biggest push, emotionally and physically has been dealing with my mother.
As I may have mentioned, she’s terminal with Pulmonary Fibrosis. That in, and of itself, is something none of us really wants to think about – the loss of a parent. Especially when you throw in a very long and drawn out, incredibly ugly process. In order to make her remaining time less taxing on her body, and due to the cluster that has been her inability to communicate issues, or ask for help – well, her house got sold and she moved. The longest 6 1/2 weeks of my life was going out to New Mexico, fighting with her over what was being packed, getting her cross country with 4 dogs, and into the house…
I don’t want to give the implication that I was the only one involved. My sister did an AMAZING job of flying into the location Mom wanted, working with the realtors, setting up the movers, and the truck, and unloading things, loaning Mom money for a new car until the monies from the sale of her house came though… I will forever be indebted to my sister for all she did on financial and physical things. My youngest brother came out, and packed up not only things for himself, but for my other brother. My cousin is the most amazing woman, putting in 16 hour days, cleaning, packing, and calming Mom down. She was rock steady when Mom had chest pains, when I fell off the semi a few times, and tensions were high. Pretty damned amazing for a woman who is almost 70!
Here’s the thing – the house Mom bought isn’t as great as it appeared in the quick run through they did. The chimney needs to be rebuilt and she cannot get into the basement. The steps are too steep and shallow and the handrail is iffy. Believe me, I know! It looks like it was a “flip” by someone who did a crappy job of painting and cut corners on making sure things were up to code. Then there’s been the challenge of getting her oxygen for the house, she’s been on the portable unit for over a month. Getting her new driver’s license has been ugly – in fact every single thing that can possibly be fussed about, has been.
I’m tired. I spend over an hour a day on the phone trying to be supportive. We’re trying to figure out a way to move up there, because quite frankly, someone is going to have to take her car keys away soon. We haven’t been able to convince out landlord that the foundation is shot and therefore we should be out of our lease. We haven’t been able to find a place in her area that suits our needs. To say that we haven’t the first steps in place is the greatest of understatements. And to be blunt, as much as I want to move out of Texas, this isn’t the way I want to do it.
I feel terrible. I’ve made the promise to be there, I’ve made the promise to be with her as she dies. I don’t want to do this right now. I want to spend time with my husband. I want to have time to make decisions about what I pack, and to further tame my feral colony. There’s this very small and bitter part of me that wants her to pass away before I can move up into a place that really doesn’t fit me. This isn’t helping my mental health at all. It’s not that I want her to die, per se, although this is going to be a terrible death, it’s just that I don’t feel like I have the energy to put into her vacuum of needs.
It might have been easier if the movers hadn’t stolen my driver’s license, health insurance cards, and my debit card. It would have been better if it hasn’t taken me more than a month to recover from bruises and sprains incurred from the move. I’d be more motivated if I felt like we had options, or even the cash to make the move. And the pandemic moves on, decimating families, and dividing communities as to whether or not it’s a “real” thing. People who don’t have the courtesy of wearing masks in public, or purposely wear them incorrectly make me so angry and upset, that I’ve even gotten confrontational with some. Yeah – I hate confrontation, and seeing people being jerks kills me. It can also kill others, but that’s not important, right? *sigh*
I don’t know how I feel. I want to be able to enjoy the holidays, but it feels like I’m not allowed to. I’d like to be to pull my shoulders down from where they’ve been over my ears, relax, and feel like myself again. I can deal with the social distancing, wearing a mask, tele-medicine and the like. Hand washing should be done more regardless. Not seeing people hasn’t been as difficult for me as it has been for very social people. I often have to go back into the house for a mask, because I’m not that social in “normal” times. I’m taking more medications, and vitamins and fish oil. I’m trying to be healthier and take better care of myself and my husband. I think I’m doing all the right things, aren’t I?
So, my dear people – this is the jumble I’m in. There’s going to be sanity one day. Things will line up. I’ll feel better, and the stress points that are right in my face will go far away. It just can’t come soon enough.