My mother had total knee-replacement surgery last week. I am very, very glad she did it, as her knee has progressively gone from annoying to acutely painful, and this type of thing doesn't resolve itself. She had been putting it off because she is the prime caretaker of my 92-year-old grandmother and my 49-year-old pill popping brother. My sister and I had explained to her that if she waited too long to have it done, it would be a far worse recovery, and she would be worse off having it at 75 than 72.
Here's the thing, and this happened when my dad was sick and basically dying. The closest I've lived since I got married is Birmingham, which is 2 1/2 hours away from Macon, where they live. When my dad was sick, I drove back and forth as much as possible and felt like the world's worst daughter when I had to leave to go home for work. I now live about 4 hours from Macon, and in the past week, I have driven from Albertville to Tuscaloosa, back to Albertville, to Birmingham, to Tuscaloosa, to Macon and to Albertville again. I really can't do the math on the gas I've used right now, plus math is stupid, but the point is, I couldn't stay.
On the day I left my mom in the swing bed in Macon on Saturday, they thought she might need a blood transfusion, and I offered my blood while thinking in the back of my head, "Will that make me woozy while driving?" I would've stayed the night, even though it would've meant dealing with my palsy-esque brother digging for Xanax wherever it may be, but they wouldn't take my stupid blood. You have to go through United Blood Services where they do all that stuff to it, which in theory, is smart, but when your mom needs blood and doesn't want a stranger's blood, I was considering a YouTube video on how to drain your own blood so I could give her mine. Stupid regulations. I have all this blood; if someone I love needs it, they should have it.
So I came back home Saturday, only to be calling home to check on my mother and grandmother at least twice a day. Almost every time I talk to them, they wish I could come back. I experienced this with my dad when he was dying. He always asked for me to come visit when I could and said I brightened his day. My mom and grandmother say the same thing, almost verbatim. It is so flattering to be a source of happiness to them, but it is literally heart-piercing that I can't just go visit every day. I need to talk to my mom's doctor and nurses and know what exactly her stats and vitals and situation is, but I have a husband and a life that is 200 miles away, and I have to be okay with that without feeling like the worst daughter/granddaughter in the history of the world.
It is so hard growing older and learning that you become the caretaker of your parents and grandparents, but you can't sacrifice your life for that, so you have to balance as best you can. I admit, that while I do what I can, I sometimes come home and cry to Smitty that I feel like a failure as a child/grandchild, and the situation with my drug-addicted brother compounds the issue. I don't trust him to take care of a rabid ferret, but I can't be there to constantly monitor the situation. We make our decisions, we live with them, and we do the best we can for all of our families...and that's all I'm trying to do. I am not perfect, I am not all-together, but I know what needs to be done in certain situations, and I can't understand why those closest to the situation can't get their acts together and act like adults. If I had independent income or such, I'd be there kicking asses and taking names and putting folks in rehab, but as it is, I'm here, trying to rule a mini-empire from afar.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Tolstoy had a point about families
This has been a stressful few days. I don't like to say that usually, because we all have stress and whining about it seems like a signal to put on my big girl panties, but I'm to the point that I need to say it. My mother had total knee replacement surgery on Monday. She's fine, well she'd be fine if she wasn't periodically looped out of her gourd on the pain pump and anesthesia, but she will eventually be okay. A few things happened as a result of her surgery:
1. I realized I could make a possible fortune recording post-anesthesia patients in their incoherent ramblings. My mom asked," How much money did I get for her leg," when I told her to pull up her gown in the front, she said, "But then they won't know how sexy I am," we argued repeatedly about whether or not she had actually had her surgery, and even though I showed her the gauze around her leg, indicated that we were in a hospital room, and told her I'd met her doctor, she wouldn't believe me until the nurse confirmed it. She also informed me that "I wasn't a doctor," when I told her she couldn't just get up and walk, but then later told me that I should be a nurse. That's a perfect indication of how whacked out she was.
2. I don't know what hospitals are thinking with the whole "chair bed" situation when someone is sleeping with the patient at night. It is literally Satan's recliner. It's vinyl, so you stick to it, it doesn't give, so your back will resemble George Burns in the morning, and you have to give them a damn kidney to even get a pillow. I've always said I could sleep anywhere, and I did, barring the hourly conversations with my mom "No, you can't get up; go back to sleep," but I felt like I had been in a fold-able taco for most of the night.
3. Some people suck in emergency/care-taker situations. They just do. I have an odd talent of being a flake about 80% of the time, but truly excelling at medical, emergency, etc...issues. I fed my mom, I repeated the same things over and over, I saw her butt more times than I care to count, but I felt good about it, because she's my Mama. I don't want her to suffer or be helpless or upset, even if she drives me around the bend sometimes, she's the only mother I have, and I love her and want her to be around for a long time. My sister is a good care-taker, too. She has kids, so she's probably better than me, but we are helpful people in these situations.
I will say this, because it's my blog, and I don't really give a flip who knows this, because as far as I'm concerned, denial and secrecy are a bunch of bullshit, my brother is a drug addict. He is addicted to prescription pain medication to the point that he can barely function. My sister and I try to maintain a civil relationship to keep the peace in the family, but I'm done with that. I don't make excuses for myself, and I'm not doing it for anyone else anymore. Addiction runs in our family, but that is no excuse at all. I've been in dark places in my life before, and I pulled myself out of them. I have no respect or sympathy for someone who has been handed everything on a silver plate his whole life, and has never taken responsibility for his own actions. For all I know, my brother could be dead in 5 years, and that makes me sad for the effect it would have on my mother and grandmother, but for me, it would almost be a relief. If that makes me a bad person, I don't care. I've had 34 years to witness the most selfish behavior a person can exhibit, and I'm done.
4. I can sometimes be a glass-empty person. If you know me well, you probably think I'm funny and dry and optimistic. At the heart of myself, I am optimistic, but my mind tends to go to the negative pretty fast. When the doctor ordered a standard pneumonia test for my mom, I immediately thought that she would have pneumonia and die from it, and I started crying. Granted, I had 4 hours of sleep and drove from Tuscaloosa to Albertville, but I started to think that I wouldn't have any parents anymore at 34, and my dad's death was devastating, but what would I do without my mom, too?
She's fine, no pneumonia, and I cried at that news, too. I want to have a better relationship with her. She sacrificed a lot for us as children and worked her ass off to better our family, and she deserves to enjoy her life. As sufficiently creeped out by her dating as I am, she deserves someone to appreciate her and show her a fun time.
I guess the majority of my realizations have been that life is too short to waste time on guilt and enabling and lost causes. I want to enjoy the love I feel for both my families, natural and in-lawed, and I want to strengthen those ties. I don't want to waste any more time being told to forgive a person who doesn't warrant it or feeling guilty for reasons related to that. I'm 34 years old, and I don't need to be told how to feel or act.
1. I realized I could make a possible fortune recording post-anesthesia patients in their incoherent ramblings. My mom asked," How much money did I get for her leg," when I told her to pull up her gown in the front, she said, "But then they won't know how sexy I am," we argued repeatedly about whether or not she had actually had her surgery, and even though I showed her the gauze around her leg, indicated that we were in a hospital room, and told her I'd met her doctor, she wouldn't believe me until the nurse confirmed it. She also informed me that "I wasn't a doctor," when I told her she couldn't just get up and walk, but then later told me that I should be a nurse. That's a perfect indication of how whacked out she was.
2. I don't know what hospitals are thinking with the whole "chair bed" situation when someone is sleeping with the patient at night. It is literally Satan's recliner. It's vinyl, so you stick to it, it doesn't give, so your back will resemble George Burns in the morning, and you have to give them a damn kidney to even get a pillow. I've always said I could sleep anywhere, and I did, barring the hourly conversations with my mom "No, you can't get up; go back to sleep," but I felt like I had been in a fold-able taco for most of the night.
3. Some people suck in emergency/care-taker situations. They just do. I have an odd talent of being a flake about 80% of the time, but truly excelling at medical, emergency, etc...issues. I fed my mom, I repeated the same things over and over, I saw her butt more times than I care to count, but I felt good about it, because she's my Mama. I don't want her to suffer or be helpless or upset, even if she drives me around the bend sometimes, she's the only mother I have, and I love her and want her to be around for a long time. My sister is a good care-taker, too. She has kids, so she's probably better than me, but we are helpful people in these situations.
I will say this, because it's my blog, and I don't really give a flip who knows this, because as far as I'm concerned, denial and secrecy are a bunch of bullshit, my brother is a drug addict. He is addicted to prescription pain medication to the point that he can barely function. My sister and I try to maintain a civil relationship to keep the peace in the family, but I'm done with that. I don't make excuses for myself, and I'm not doing it for anyone else anymore. Addiction runs in our family, but that is no excuse at all. I've been in dark places in my life before, and I pulled myself out of them. I have no respect or sympathy for someone who has been handed everything on a silver plate his whole life, and has never taken responsibility for his own actions. For all I know, my brother could be dead in 5 years, and that makes me sad for the effect it would have on my mother and grandmother, but for me, it would almost be a relief. If that makes me a bad person, I don't care. I've had 34 years to witness the most selfish behavior a person can exhibit, and I'm done.
4. I can sometimes be a glass-empty person. If you know me well, you probably think I'm funny and dry and optimistic. At the heart of myself, I am optimistic, but my mind tends to go to the negative pretty fast. When the doctor ordered a standard pneumonia test for my mom, I immediately thought that she would have pneumonia and die from it, and I started crying. Granted, I had 4 hours of sleep and drove from Tuscaloosa to Albertville, but I started to think that I wouldn't have any parents anymore at 34, and my dad's death was devastating, but what would I do without my mom, too?
She's fine, no pneumonia, and I cried at that news, too. I want to have a better relationship with her. She sacrificed a lot for us as children and worked her ass off to better our family, and she deserves to enjoy her life. As sufficiently creeped out by her dating as I am, she deserves someone to appreciate her and show her a fun time.
I guess the majority of my realizations have been that life is too short to waste time on guilt and enabling and lost causes. I want to enjoy the love I feel for both my families, natural and in-lawed, and I want to strengthen those ties. I don't want to waste any more time being told to forgive a person who doesn't warrant it or feeling guilty for reasons related to that. I'm 34 years old, and I don't need to be told how to feel or act.
Thursday, May 03, 2012
CSI: Albertville??
I've been trying to think of productive, yet entertaining ways to pass the time until I find a job. One idea I had was amateur crime solver, like Psych or The Mentalist. I am neither psychic nor particularly observant, but I thought the plan had some merit. My first self-assigned case is trying to figure out what in God's name our upstairs neighbors are doing that requires hammering that doesn't begin until at least 10 p.m. and doesn't seem to stop until around 4 a.m. They also have a small child you can hearing running around at any given time during these hours.
My theories so far are: meth lab or small sweat shop. I figure they could be loading the kid up on sugar and having him assemble Chinese toys or clothes. And outside of Breaking Bad, my knowledge of meth is pretty limited, so I don't know if you have to build a lab, per se, but I figure if you're already taking the meth, it gives you the energy to hammer until 4 a.m. Needless to say, I miss our house and the fact that the loudest thing we contended with was our mid-life crisis neighbor and his garage band. I need a little notepad and a sidekick. I'm working on the sidekick, but I hope to solve this mystery before Smitty breaks down their door and waylays them, Commando-style.
I've noticed a trend here in Marshall County, Alabama. People have yard sales like crazy. However, their idea of a yard sale is, any and all days of the week, to put all of their crap in the yard in no discernible order and then spray paint a "Yard Sale" sign. Now, I'm no snob (ha), but to me, this seems more like a career if you try to sell all of your belongings every day. I'm familiar with weekend yard sales that are a little more organized; this is new.
Also, why is the store Dirt Cheap's mascot a chicken? If you're not familiar, it's like a Dollar General, discount-type store...but there is a chicken on their sign. Is this because chickens peck around in dirt, do chickens also enjoy bargains? Did they cross the road to get to a sale? I don't understand.
One of my favorite quotes ever that weighs on my mind while looking for a job:
"I say beware of all enterprises that require new clothes, and not rather a new wearer of clothes."
Henry David Thoreau
My theories so far are: meth lab or small sweat shop. I figure they could be loading the kid up on sugar and having him assemble Chinese toys or clothes. And outside of Breaking Bad, my knowledge of meth is pretty limited, so I don't know if you have to build a lab, per se, but I figure if you're already taking the meth, it gives you the energy to hammer until 4 a.m. Needless to say, I miss our house and the fact that the loudest thing we contended with was our mid-life crisis neighbor and his garage band. I need a little notepad and a sidekick. I'm working on the sidekick, but I hope to solve this mystery before Smitty breaks down their door and waylays them, Commando-style.
I've noticed a trend here in Marshall County, Alabama. People have yard sales like crazy. However, their idea of a yard sale is, any and all days of the week, to put all of their crap in the yard in no discernible order and then spray paint a "Yard Sale" sign. Now, I'm no snob (ha), but to me, this seems more like a career if you try to sell all of your belongings every day. I'm familiar with weekend yard sales that are a little more organized; this is new.
Also, why is the store Dirt Cheap's mascot a chicken? If you're not familiar, it's like a Dollar General, discount-type store...but there is a chicken on their sign. Is this because chickens peck around in dirt, do chickens also enjoy bargains? Did they cross the road to get to a sale? I don't understand.
One of my favorite quotes ever that weighs on my mind while looking for a job:
"I say beware of all enterprises that require new clothes, and not rather a new wearer of clothes."
Henry David Thoreau
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