That's What A Mom Does

 This day is "Not My Day" or "Happy You're Not A Mom Day" for me.  A few years ago I wrote this post.  I've edited/added a bit to reflect the now.

Last year's update:

I phoned my mom last night about Mother's Day.  We were going to go out this morning before my family was visiting to avoid that Whole Thing.  Welp, my mom had/has Covid.  She tested positive "on Easter"  Well, first she said Christmas then corrected herself so there's that whole thing.  She says she's fine, it was just like a cold but she still sounded snuffly.  

And, oh, thanks, family members, for letting me know. btw.  You're *super*.  My mom even said "I didn't know no one told you."  "Yeah, that's how it is now, mom" I wanted to say, but I didn't.

Instead, I will go down during the week to see her for a little while.  She said that it was fine and that today is "Just another Day" so that will give you insight to the dynamic as well. 

So, the pandemic has given me distance from unhealthy family dynamics and for that I am strangely grateful. 

We bought Kevin's mom a flower arrangement because she can't care for her flowers anymore and that is sad. However, on a happier note:  Kevin chose the card and it's nearly exactly the same as her birthday card that we gave her eleven days ago.  We're pretty sure that she won't notice and because we're horrible children, we laughed about it. 

This year's update:

My mom is currently on speaker phone. I phoned her to say that we weren't coming down for the "holiday".  Before I could say anything, she said "It's just another day, you don't have to come down" which made me eyeroll.  I wasn't going down there anyway, I had just told her we were at the day-by-day point of our hospice adventure. Also, I looked it up: 96 days since we last spoke and it was again me that made the call.  After polite/nosy update about my mother-in-law, the conversation flipped to all about her.  So, the usual.

For what I now call my Other Mom, we met with hospice yesterday.  We are near the end now, but like, for real.  She went semi-conscious last week, for the entire week.  We thought the process had started and was feeling a little relieved/guilty.  Then on Monday, she woke up like nothing was wrong and stayed that way for two days.  Now we're back to the semi-conscious state.  We are to now keep her sedated as much as we can and to let the natural process do its thing.  So, not a happy Mother's Day this year in that aspect.

With that unhappy update, the annual repost for this particular day:

Having been raised by wolves, as I've regularly described my childhood, other women stepped up to make sure that I was parented when my parents couldn't or didn't know any better.

As a baby/toddler, it was my mom's best friend.  As I was a trauma birth, she was the one who cared for me the first months of my life.  In fact, she made sure I was taken care of the first part of my young life. She sees me as the daughter she never had.

Even as an adult, she had that presence.  I remember arriving at a family function years ago and it had been a crap day. I was spewing all the reasons why I was late and it was an awful day and in mid-sentence she stopped what she was doing, turned and hugged me tight.  Like a mom would.  

My paternal grandma helped while she was alive.  She died when I was five, but I still remember her babysitting and making sure that I was spoiled and had what I needed: ceramic figurines from the tea box, scrapbooks, napoleon (neopolitan)  ice cream, and affection.

During grade school, my mom became a volunteer firefighter with a group of stay-at-home moms.  Those women also stepped up and made sure I was okay over the years, as well.  Equipping me with wedding shower gifts and handwritten advice when I married the wrong man, with kind of an unspoken understanding about the decision I was making. I didn't understand it then but I've since realized their support.

Where we lived when I was a child, the houses around us were summer homes.  The mom in one family was such a hippie; she did yoga and meditated and seemed quite strange to me.  She was a gentle mom and I liked her very much, even though she was a mom the likes of which I had never seen.  She passed when Kevin had Covid so I wasn't able to attend her memorial. It broke my heart a little.  The beautiful obituary that my friend wrote for her described her as Soft.  As in everything about her was soft and gentle. It clarified why she was an important presence when I was young: she was soft when everyone around me was hard.

My grade/middle school best friend's mom was also just a quiet presence.  They were poor, I mean, really poor and she was overwhelmed with all these kids and the things that came with that.  I didn't realize it then but I do understand now. But I just became another one of her kids, like it was no problem at all.

Mostly I remember my high school best friend's moms.  At sixteen/seventeen, I was working, going to school, paying bills, and driving.  I was an adult mostly but I still felt their watchful eyes on me. They made sure I got home, school, or to work on time, had what I needed, fed me, answered my questions.  Parented me when I needed it.

As of next week, I will be married thirty-years.  We lived in sin for three years prior so it's been a long time that we've been a family.  My mother-in-law didn't understand me at first, having been raised by the aforementioned wolves.  (Sidenote:  recently she said wolves are good mothers so I had to think of another animal)  In turn, I didn't recognize how she was in life was, indeed, normal.

Now, perhaps in some respects too late, I've realized the presence she has had in my life. The mediator, the dinners she made, the flowers she gave when she "bought too many" or as a thank you.  The mom she was to Kevin.  Yes, she made me want to drink on many, many occasions but from what I've read (joking) That's What Mother's Do.  I just didn't recognize it at the time.

So, today I'm giving a shout out to those moms who take care of kids who aren't theirs.  Not just the foster moms or the step moms.  The moms who just take in the friends of your kids without a thought.  You might not think they notice but they do.  You  may think it's nothing or just a little thing that doesn't matter. But it's not.

I appreciate every meal, every hug, every correction, every thing they did to step up and fill the gaps.  Even now.

Happy Mother's Day

 

On Marriage

This is one of the best descriptions of marriage goals/rules I've read. 

As I enter into the 30th year of being a wife this month, I've learned that the scope keeps changing. And will continue to keep changing.  

Chicken Soup with Rice - May

 

You Won't Know if You Don't Ask

 Right now I am eating coco puffs, listening to Eddie Izzard "Dressed to Kill" with all the curtains and windows open.  I am on Day Four of working full-time in addition to all.the.other.things that are happening right now. Because: sigh.

My work is having a federal review so everyone is Super Extra ON TASK.  Also: panicking because they need to have their caseloads/work loads in ORDER.  Meanwhile, there's me who's like the janitor: sweeping up behind them, tidying that stack, ordering that thing, and monitoring everything from behind the scenes.

In addition to the review, it's now May and this is the month where advocates remember that the school year is ending and they have to have everything wrapped up.  Cue panicked emails and requests to me.  Every May I get busy at work and then wonder what's happening, then I look at the calendar and go "Ohh..."  

Along those same lines, kinda, I was asked if I wanted to increase my job responsibilities in the Fall.  My reward would be....drumroll, please...an increase in hours. Not what I want at all. Job Partner told them that would probably not be an option for me but would make the offer to me.

Here's the thing: I do have time on my hands two-thirds of the school year, so extra tasks aren't a very big deal.  However, some of it is during start-up when I am at my very, very busiest.  Also, my Need to Help is triggered so I kind of wanted to say yes; yet I'm thankful that my Job Partner said "Probably not but I'll ask."

Also, I'm tired of the whole "But you get more hours as a reward" nonsense.  I don't want more hours and have been so clear about that from my interview.  And yes, I know that I'm the anomaly that isn't motivated by money.

So, I thought about it and a few days later emailed my job partner with this offer:

 With the assumption that additional hours would be the reward and not a wage bump, :) the thing I need is working from home like I have been.   If the working from home thing is not possible, then my answer is Thanks But No, and it’s going to need to be a bigger conversation.  

Now we're in the middle of the review and a further conversation is not possible. I probably won't have an answer until summer and that's okay.

Then about one week later with perfect timing,  I had to complete and submit the "Intent to Return" form for the next school year, the first step of my contract renewal.  Another opportunity to say:

 I request to work from home for the foreseeable future.  My job satisfaction & performance and mental health have greatly improved since WFH began.  I need to sustain that.  I will commit to the job until my retirement (10 years!) and will complete whatever requirements are needed to make it possible.

So, I offered a long-term commitment and implied that I would not necessarily be interested in continuing to work if WFH is not an option.  That's quite a spectrum.  Also, if I need to do a hybrid schedule of being in an office once a week or whatever, that's not the end of the world.  However, I gave up an office to work from home so that would need addressed.  (between the need for confidentiality - legally, and the alphabet brain, I need a private space.  I'm not being all "But I need a corner office!")

Anyway, still no feedback and I saw everyone yesterday. But: federal review.

Also, I'm receiving a COLA wage with the new contract and a bonus when I get my COVID booster so...while I can't say "Give me a raise" with a straight face, I can also more comfortably say "I'm good, thanks."

It occurred to me that I've never been in a position to negotiate my job before.  Then it nearly simultaneously occurred to me that Yes, I Have.  I just wasn't in the headspace that I am in right now.  Right now, I'm in a Make It Worth It to Me mindset versus Thank You for the Job mindset.  I think that just comes with age and experience. (also, my privilege is showing a little bit. Will just tuck that back in, out of sight)

SO THEN, as part of the federal review they want to know systems.  Specifically, beyond policy, how people do their jobs.  This required me to make a "How-to" manual for my job.  As I worked on it, even I was surprised at how much there was included. AND I know I've forgotten some little things AND I didn't include a new monitoring task because it hasn't been solidified yet.

Something I had forgotten was that this was a brand new position within the organization.  No one had it before me, it didn't exist.  The way that this position was designed was BY ME.  I mean, literally they gave me the requirements and a pat on the head and "Figure it out".  Now six years later, there's a thick manual explaining how to do this job.

(this isn't ego stroking, I have a point.)

During my part of the review I had to explain how I gathered information and made a determination.  I explained that I receive medical records, review them and - sometimes using my medical insurance billing knowledge - make determinations as to a child's health status and needs.   

THEN I gave my job manual.  Tah Dah.

So I'm driving home from the review and I have an epiphany.  I just added another layer to my negotiation: I created this WHOLE SYSTEM and I can take this system elsewhere and probably be paid more. Without this Whole System That I Built, this review might not have gone as well as it did for that particular section.   When this next comes up, I can now reference all of that.

Okay, so what's my point, after all of that.  It's back to the Negotiate. You won't know until you ask. Post-pandemic employers are more willing than before to negotiate.  Know your own worth and make sure others know it too.  Have good work boundaries. If the pandemic gave us anything, it's better working negotiations and possibilities.

Babbling Brook

Time is both going too fast and too slowly right now. It's been a hellishly long week and it's only Tuesday.  (Nothing has changed at all, we're just trudging along with the hospice situation)

I realized it was the 2nd of May and that I needed to sit (back) down at the computer and get my bloggity on.  Also, I remembered my childhood BFF's birthday was yesterday and I forgot.  Sigh.

(Happy Birthday, Toad!  :) )

This months insta share is the creek at the park near our house.  I love going there and I love watching the seasons change; it's green even in the winter.  This was last May when it was unseasonably warm for a day or two.  I think I also have a video on the tickytock app from this shoot.  (same user name)  

I have hundreds of photos of this little park and it's one of Lucy's favorites too.  Although off an old highway that is sometimes busy, just a few feet into the park and you're in an old-growth forest.  The creek is the boundary and it's a salmon spawning creek.  Lots of hawks and eagles, sometimes a deer and to Lucy's delight: squirrels.

Take a moment and breathe, friends

Telephone Whiplash

 (this post wanders a bit. I know, you're not surprised. lolsigh)

My phone is historically on silent most times, much to Kevin's dismay.  I mean, he gets to be frustrated when I miss calls because I forget that it's across the house and he's called three times with something important.  (this was pre-current situation, btw)  

In my defense, if any, is that usually it's right next to me or physically on me.  It's set to vibrate so that rattle is kind of my ringtone.  I used to have it also flash but that is unsettling so I turned off that feature.  It's synced to the truck so it's technically on while I'm driving.

And, to quote the interwebs, remember how we used to painstakingly choose our ringtones?

We got new phones in the middle of ALL THIS HAPPENING and I haven't found a ringtone I like so, that's just another reason to keep it quiet.  I had chosen one but Kevin kept saying it sounded like creepy Game of Thrones so I changed it.

One of the first thing that hospice tells you is that Your Phone Is Going To Ring.  My dawg, they are not joking.  And not just, like, the initial setting up of things where you expect it to eventually pare down.  It's every day.  AND my sister-in-law gets some of the calls.

It usually starts around 8:00 am.  Kevin checks in because he used to call his mom at that time but now that's not a thing.  Then the hospice calls start: nurse, bath aide, massage therapist, faith consultant, caseworker, triage nurse, status update volunteer.  

Then there's the pharmacy. Because of the situation, hospice orders meds in small doses.  So there's a notification to refill or nah or that the refill is ready.  

Plus cousins or friends checking in, which is appreciated. Not complaining about that.  

Then there's work.  When this hospice adventure began, I put out an email that said "No Phone Calls, Please" because I'm never sure where I am going to be.  Mostly, that has been honored.

I went from having very few phone calls to having them all.the.time.  If I'm at work, then I'm kind of in that mode and it's not a big deal.  Right now, if it's not a family member, I answer "Hello, this is Surely" which feels weird on your own phone.

The cousins communicate via messenger so there's that whole thing.  And Kevin sends me tickytock videos during the day to make me laugh and not burn things to the ground.  Again, these are both good things but that's a lot of notifications to add to the chaos.

Monday I actually had time to wander downstairs to see the m-i-l.  I *just* sat down and my phone rings.  It's an advocate I've been (impatiently) waiting to hear from.  I wasn't expecting a CALL but here we are.

Now cue me, motioning to the m-i-l and s-i-l that I have to take the call like I'm in some ridiculous sitcom. (not sure that I'm not, actually)    Then wending my way through the house, past the father-in-law, their dog and the siblings dumb dog.  Once I get through that obstacle course, my reward is about twenty steep stairs.  Then an uphill walk to the road and over to my house, then the length of the house to my office. 

I may have been wheezing.  Because instead of saying "Give me a minute" and phoning them back, I chose to chat and try to guess/answer their questions as I hike back to my office.

The next day I took Lucy for long walkies.  It's in a wildlife reserve and usually absolutely stunningly quiet.  I was doing a snap for my BFF K.  Then my phone rang.  First, I ignored it.  "I'm FILMING here!", I think to myself like some ridiculous influencer.  Then I realized the snap would feature my ringtone.  Gah.  And then I saw it was the caseworker for the state and I HAD TO take it. 

(Because reasons, the site won't let me edit the video.  Sigh.  this feels right.) 

Then I returned to the truck with Lucy and my phone rings AGAIN. It's an advocate with questions about a challenging family situation on her caseload.  Now I'm sitting in the sun, in the middle of nature's glory, with a happy tired dog, and talking about neo-natal drug exposure. Sigh.

Finally, one of the last calls yesterday was from my s-i-l, who usually texts so that didn't panic me at all.  She thought that having a little birthday party for the m-i-l this weekend might be nice and she wanted to know what I thought.  "Because we know this is her last one..." she says.  I agree and we disconnect while I try to not feel like someone just punched me in my feelings.  

And the phone rings.  Thanks universe, no pity party for me.  Then I get a sweet text from an old friend out of the blue so the pendulum swings back.

Oh, wait, while I was thinking of a title and how to end this, I remembered that while I was at the pharmacy, my phone chimed. My notification sound is The Jetsons.  I heard a laugh from one of the pharmacists.  Then while I'm waiting, she walks out and sings "MEET GEORGE JETSON!" and laughs then says "That makes me so happy!"

Which is Totally Fine and Normal

 Oof, I am owly this morning (owly=extremely pissy)  I ate something I knew I would have a reaction to, then I did from midnight to 2:00 am.  I slept in, only to be awakened by a text that the mother-in-laws meds are ready, WHICH IS TOTALLY FINE AND NORMAL.

I got up, showered and started to think about chores and breakfast and got a text from my sister-in-law that she needs help with the m-i-l.  WHICH IS TOTALLY FINE AND NORMAL.  

Turns out, the m-i-l was in a bad mood because she was told she can't do something, which is never her favorite and results in pouting.  Unluckily for her, she got ME who is all cheery "Whelp, this is your choice so there you go and I'm going to leave now."  So, she didn't get sympathy, help, or attention from me.  My s-i-l was all "YEAH, it's been a MORNING."

It's Sunday and that means visitors next door, again WHICH IS TOTALLY FINE AND NORMAL.

And I have chores to do and/or finish.  Lucy went on strike yesterday and slept in the people bed nearly all day.  I had to change the sheets this morning before Her Highness reclaimed her rightful spot again.  (old dog behavior. Yes, I can move her.  It wasn't important enough because Old Dog)

So, I got everything started: laundry, changed the sheets, remembered to eat, vacuum, etc. About an hour of productivity.  Then I planned on going through photos, that I have been avoiding, because one of the visitors wants to spend some time looking at them.  WHICH IS TOTALLY FINE AND NORMAL.

Except my office was cluttered with bedding from next door and rocks from walkies and papers from my job and, and, and.  I started to get that taken care of when my phone rings.

It's Kevin and he needs help with the racecar and the laptop. WHICH IS TOTALLY FINE AND NORMAL.  Except I was wrestling with a bag full of bedding, trying to get it in the closet and the photos haven't even begun.

I spent about thirty minutes out there being frustrated because he's trying to help, yet he gets distracted, and the program wasn't working, and I didn't want to smell like gas fumes the rest of the day and I just effing hate everything and everyone today.

I sat down at my computer to look something up and didn't get the answer quickly so got (more) frustrated and now I"m trying to psyche myself up to go open that box of photos which are going to make me sad and I can't want to.  WHICH IS TOTALLY FINE AND NORMAL.

Happy Earth Day!

 

Running Late for National Poetry Month - Stop All the Clocks

 Well, we're midway through April and I just realized That and that it's also National Poetry Month.

Nothing has changed; it's just been busy and slow at the same time, waiting for the bad thing to happen.

With that, one of my top three favorite poems ever.  Yes, it's the one from Four Weddings and a Funeral. 

Happy Easter

 Happy Easter to you who celebrate.  Happy Chocolate and Hard Boiled Egg Day to everyone else.

Chicken Soup with Rice - April

 

My Kind of Cathedral

This is the fourth installment of my favorite instagram photos.  April 2022

I have learned so much from the ticktocky app about photography. this is one of my first attempts at this angle.  It's become one of my favorite ways to take photos.

 

What Is Your Name

 My job partner's teenaged daughter is suffering her first heartbreak.  She's fifteen, a J.V. cheerleader and gorgeous.  He's also fifteen, a jock, and looks like he walked out of a John Hughes movie. They look like an advertisement for a yearbook.  They live in my old hometown and attend my alma mater (I hate that phrase but it's easiest)  

When she mentioned that the boy had broken up with her over the weekend, I was sympathetic.  I would not want to be a teen again, ever.  Then I flipped into Hometown Mode.  "What's his family name?"  As in, does he come from a founding family? a rich family?  a troubled family?  We ride at dawn!

Because when we were that age, you avoided certain families because you knew they were trouble. It doesn't just happen in a Nicholas Sparks or Sarah Dessen novel. (no shade to either author)

Or in my hometown's case, cursed.  There was one family that bad things happened to them On The Regular.  Out of four kids, I think only one is still alive.  The others died in accidents ranging from car accidents, accidental drowning, to job place accidents.  There was cancer and a house fire.  Somewhere they have some angry ancestors that need appeased.

Thinking about it more, I began texting her surnames.  "Don't let her date a ...."   She laughed and said "I'm writing these down so I have them!"  

Now, I'm not singling out a specific boy's family because I or my friends had a bad experience. I listed families who have been generationally troubled.  And, not just poor but: jail, domestic violence, sketchy.  Sure, things can change but not often in these situations.

You immediately thought of someone, didn't you?  Every town has them.  

Job partner did not grow up here, not even in this state.  Anytime that I can provide a little insight because rural, redneck, small town, then I do.  I have absolutely become the "In my day that building was a bank." or "This used to all be farmland" person.

Anyway, I just thought it might be something interesting to think about. What name jumped to your mind?  Would you have a reaction if one of your children began dating someone from "that family"?

March the 25th

Penny in the Air

 Last Sunday Kevin and I went out to dinner, it was nothing special and not too far away.  It was just an hour to check out for a period of time and not be In It.  We tried (failed some) to keep the topic away from family and hospice.

After dinner, we went to the store because we needed some storage bins.  It's a store that I loathe but it was the closest.  We got what we needed then had to walk nearly the length of the store to check out because none of the register were open on the side we entered. (loathe that store)

We checked out and was walking back to the truck when I spotted a coin machine.  "Oh, Kevin, there's a coin machine. We should really get your parents coins and take care of it."  We parked far away from the store because parking at this particular store always results in door dings and scratches (LOATHE that store)  "I don't have the energy or want to walk all the way there and all the way back."

Kevin jogged ahead and got the grocery bag full of PENNIES.  He had seen them in the original container and didn't realize I'd transferred them into a bag.  "I'm not walking into a store, alone, with a bucket full of change."  He agreed that was wise.

As he's carrying the bag, he comments on how heavy it was.  "I wonder how many pennies are in there?"  

I said "I bet it's less than you think because pennies. It always seems like a lot then it's two dollars."

"How much do you think there is, guess."

"$5.75"

"No" he says incredulously "There's got to be more.  "$9.37.  No, no. $12.  It's $12"

So we "bet" which amount it was and continued to the machine.  We're laughing as I'm trying to lift the slide full of pennies while he's trying to dump them out of the plastic grocery bag.   "Ooops, one fell!" I said and bent down to pick it up.  Upon rising, Kevin looks me in the eye and said "It's a PENNY. You just cost yourself money picking it up."  As in, if you valuate your time into money, I just wasted my money.  Only Kevin would think of such a thing.

Then there was the smell.  For some reason, they smelled terrible. Like moldy crayons, almost.  AND this is Kevin who can smell like only three things.  They were stored in a kitchen canister, in their bedroom, so I can't guess why they smelled so badly.

The machine was audibly slowing down so I reached down to make sure that there weren't any discards.  There was A BUNCH.  So I started scooping them back up into the machine.  Then Kevin stared just placing them on the side of the machine so I wasn't just cycling the same bad pennies again and again.

There were Canadian coins, tokens from Chuck E. Cheese and some pennies that were so deteriorated that they no longer looked like pennies.  Kevin said "Just leave them there, it will make some little kid's day to find them"  So we did.

We watched the screen as it continued to count.  I looked at the wrong number, the number that was after the fee was deducted.  Kevin looked at the right number and backed up with one finger gun "You are SO WRONG. I am right. You.are.a.loser" and I started laughing.  (it's one of those situations that I'm certain people think he's being a jackass when he's just being funny)

"Yes, yes, you were right. You're very smart. Let's figure out how to get our money."

We went to customer service and asked.  They said "You can put it on a store gift card..." I hear an emphatic NO from Kevin behind me "Or you can cash it out"  We walked to the register and explained that it wasn't our money so we needed to cash it out.

"ALSO" Kevin pauses then says "I need to point out..." and the cashier looked nervous  "I was right and she was SO TOTALLY WRONG." The cashier laughed but in that nervous way in which she's trying to decide if she needs to call security.

Then, he starts to figure out How Close he was to being Right versus How Far I was to being Wrong. "Too much mathing!!" I practically shout at him.  He continues "Carry the two, divide by five" figures it out and announces "That makes me EVEN MORE right!"

We're starting to laugh, the kind of laugh where you're precariously close to just absolutely losing it and needing the cashier to call security.  Finally, Kevin says "We should really go now..."

It was nice to have a tiny taste of normalcy.  Well, normalcy for us.  

Down the Drain - Metaphorically and Literally

 In all of my wisdom, I thought today was a good day to try to fix the slow draining sink in the primary bath.  I had already worked a full day, finished a gardening project, and had a telephone check-in with the hospice caseworker.  

I mean, could there BE better timing?

sigh.

Oh wait, I have to mention that before I started I had to go get my little stool out of Monica's Closet, where I spotted my m-i-l's Christmas decorations that I brought home but hadn't boxed up yet.  Like a punch in the nose, I realized she wouldn't be here in December.  

So, yeah, Absolutely go take apart the bathroom sink.  Good choices.

It went as well as to be expected.  The shmamazon delivery guy probably heard me cursing a blue streak, dropped the packages and ran.  (probably not solely about the sink but whatevs)  What usually takes about twenty minutes took much more than that and I felt like I needed to shower afterward.  To add insult to injury, I'm not sure I fixed it.  It's better, not fixed.

Sidenote: I'd already done the baking soda, vinegar, boiling water trick.  No improvement, in fact I think it just made it mad.

I'm purposefully and methodically finding little projects to occupy my time in between work, chores, phone calls, and visits.  Everything feels unsettled...because it is...and I'm trying to exert the tiniest bit of control where I can.  Clearly, it's working out for me. *sarcasm font*

Oh, and there's a chance of snow on Friday.  Because, why not?

There is simultaneously a lot and nothing going on right now.  We're in the waiting space now, so time has considerably slowed to a crawl.  The big family projects are done, most of the tasks that we can do are completed, and now we wait.

An inappropriate story to lighten the mood. (Or not, TW: maybe)  There was discussion with hospice about reducing the use of the feeding tube last week.  The m-i-l still wants us to continue using it (I know) and that we can't try to kill her that way. (as quoted by the nurse)  Without thinking, my dark humor said "Oh no, we'd use a pillow for sure."  

LUCKILY, the hospice nurse laughed.  This tiny paranoia is part of the grieving process and it's Super Fun for the family.  Mix in a little denial and anger and we had just a fantastic week last week with the m-i-l. In addition to the whole dying part, I mean.

I think I need to go break something. Not the sink though. Well, maybe.

The Worst Kind of Whack-a-Mole

 What day is it?  I mean...my dawg.  I have so not earned my $10 writing stipend this week.  If I sit at the computer, it's attempting work while fielding phone calls and answering questions and running errands and and and.  I just finished a twenty-minute call with Kevin, trying to get on the same page of Who Is Doing What over the weekend.  It takes charts and graphs, and a laser pointer right now.

We are one month and two weeks into the hospice adventure.  The estimate, if you will, was between one and two months duration.  We had a little episode that made us think that we were closer to the one month timeline.  Then surprise!  Just kidding.  

The parents house is mostly closed.  As mentioned before: the kitchen and bathroom are torn apart.  We're waiting on the repair estimate from the insurance so we're in limbo.  I will become my internet namesake next week if there's no progress.

The lion's share of closing the house went to me and it's completely fair.  Here's why: the sister-in-law is not only caring for the mother-in-law but now also the father-in-law.  She has her hands full.  That being said, she did help me pack up some of the kitchen because I didn't know what to do with most of it.  Also, this was BEFORE the f-i-l decided he wasn't staying.  As a result, some stuff was packed twice.

I boxed up the bedroom because I felt like that would be easier on me than anyone else.  Also, can you imagine her sons packing up her clothes?  She would be mortified.  I was a little wrong but it went smoothly mostly.  There was an initial moment where you get the whiff of perfume or spot a specific piece of clothing that took some breathing.  Mostly, it was interesting to see what she had.  Had vs. wore because she didn't wear most of the clothing she had.  There were lots of prints and some animal patterns.  Some grandma sweaters.  Lots of pants and socks. LOTS.  

Upon opening an upper cupboard, I burst out laughing.  HOLIDAY sweaters.  Sparkly thread, patterns, etc. Few of which she wore but if asked would deny it.  And more socks. Scarves that she never wore.  

The only Oh, Oh No thing that I found was a journal.  It was in a bottom drawer, off to the side.  I opened it, realized what it was, slammed it shut, then tucked in a box to come home with me.  I "hid" it away until I got a moment to ask her.  First, she thought there were two and now I'm searching my brain for where a second one could possibly be. Then she wasn't sure she wanted to see it.  I offered to just burn it, unread.  She considered it then asked if she could see it. WELL OF COURSE.   I saw it today, sitting on her bedside table.  

There was A LOT of WTF when I went through the bathroom stuff.  SO MANY COMBS.  Makeup...I have to mention: she bought makeup from second hand stores.  Ooof.  Lots of nail polish.  SO MANY NAIL CLIPPERS.  I recycled TEN bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and treatments. TEN.  All I have to say is Clean Your Bathroom Cupboards!  

A very long time ago I mentioned that nothing makes me clean closets and drawers like watching the hoarders show on television.  I have been having to TAMP DOWN the OCD so much during this adventure.  There have been moments where I felt like I was never going to be clean again.

As it stands, there is a big trailer full of junk and garbage in the driveway.  I have made four trips to the second hand store with donations.  I've spent HOURS sorting stuff and making sure that daughters, grandchildren, nieces, etc. get everything they want or that she wanted them to have. (those are two separate things)

Tomorrow will be the last, but like for real, packing.  We didn't do the upper cabinets of the kitchen and both of us forgot about it.  I'll do that tomorrow, with the plan that a cousin will take most of it.  The food stuff (spices, coffee supplies) will go downstairs.  The remainder will go to the second hand store. 

The "problem" with this being finished is that the Task Mode will transition into Wait Mode.  I kind of need that not to happen.  So the universe reminded me that the house still needs to be CLEANED.  Ugh. Be careful what you ask for.  

On a happier note, she had a lot of outdoor plants, pretty things, and windchimes.  None of which my sister-in-law wants.  My plan is to play with those tomorrow on the one sunny day that we're going to have in the seven-day forecast.

Then my office is a mess with paperwork and boxes and effluvia that has accumulated during this process.  I still have to put the photos in the albums and process all the sentimental letters, etc.  

So, thankfully? there's still stuff to do.  I mentioned to Kevin that it's the worst kind of whack-a-mole. We get one task completed and another, worse task arises.  

I still have to finish the obit and print photos.  The cemetery needs information, which is going to require a trip there.  It's 45 minutes away.  See? The fun is on a sliding scale.

Five Little Aliens Jumping on the Bed

 Okay, so.  Only two family members have heard these stories and it just happens to be me and Nephew.

The topic came up the other day when Nephew asked if there were any diaries because he was curious about "the alien story."  I told him that I had only found one journal but didn't look at it.  Also, it was a newer one not a childhood one and that I would keep an eye out for anything else.

Now Kevin thinks we're both crazy.  He wouldn't be surprised per se but he's skeptical.  

The other day there was a break in all the craziness and I went downstairs to visit. (next door has become downstairs for those of you following along)  She was napping but my sister-in-law said to wake her up.  They're trying to get her clock turned back around because she's been up a little a night and that's not safe for anyone. 

ANYWAY.

I started with "I'm going to ask you a question and see if you remember what I'm talking about."  She put up an okay sign and nodded.  "Do you remember the story you told me years ago about being abducted by aliens?  You told Nephew about it too."

At first she looked puzzled and shook her head.  Not to be thwarted, I tried again.  "You said you were in your bedroom at the farm house..."

Then she says...hand to god..."Oh, I wasn't ABDUCTED. They just came to VISIT."

Okay, then. My bad.  lol

She speaks too quietly to record and she would haunt me for all my days if I videoed her.  I took out my phone and opened the notes app, even though I knew I was probably not going to forget any of this.

I asked "How did they appear or get in the house?"

"Well, I was in my bedroom, at night, and the window was open but just a little because..."  She was a fearful child, which makes this even more insane.  "They came through the window and jumped on my bed, around me."

"So, they opened the window? Or how did they get in?"

She gestured with a sweep of her hand, "They made themselves smaller and swooped right under the window."

"What did they look like?  Like Alien aliens or...?"

"Oh no, they were small.  Not very big"

"but what did they LOOK like?"

"Well, small. They looked like small people." She thought about it for a moment then continued  "Like dwarves. They were about this high" and she gestured about a foot in height.

(did you laugh? because it took EVERYTHING in me not to react)

"What did they say?  Did they say anything to you or just, like, hang out?"

"They said that they weren't here to hurt me, just to visit.  Then they just played on the bed and jumped around." and she bounced her hands around the blankets.  "I wasn't scared at all and normally I would have been."

"You didn't go with them anywhere?  Or they didn't ask?"

"No, they just played then they left just as they came."

"They just visited that one time then?"

"Oh no, they came a few times.  It got to where I looked forward to it. Then they stopped" and she was a little sad.

"Did anyone ELSE see them?"  (she shared a bedroom with a sister and there were two other sisters and a brother in other rooms)

"Oh, yes, my mom saw them too. But not in my bedroom."

This is new information so now I had to know more.  "Where did your mom see them?"  

"At the farmhouse but also at the cabin."

New information again. "What cabin? I don't think you've told us about that."

She told me about a cabin in the mountains down near one of the homesteads, two counties away. Rural now and more isolated then, for sure.

"My dad always teased Mom and me about the aliens. He didn't believe at all.  Then he saw them at the cabin and he never said A Word about it ever again."

(her dad = notorious assh*le. Hated by most of his children)

"What did they see that changed his mind?"

"They were walking in the woods, by the powerlines, and they swooped down and around them then went away.  He never mentioned them or teased us again."

Then she grew tired of talking about that so I changed the subject to GHOSTS.

But that will be a different post.

Stack of Zen

 Third installment of Sharing my Insta photography.  March 2022

I wrote a post about how a photograph similar to this came about.  It included bleeding, as one would expect from me.  This one, however, no blood.

This is the desktop photo on my laptop because it pleases me so.

The Missing Baby

 While the case worker was doing the intake for Hospice, she asked my mother-in-law how many children she had.  She thought about it and answered "two".  Perfectly acceptable answer, except I know there was another baby prior to these boys.  So, I waited, wondering.

I could see she was thinking/processing then she quietly said "And a baby boy. He didn't make it.  He was beautiful."  (sidenote: she told me she hadn't seen the baby so I find this interesting and more on this in a minute) 

So, the case worker repeated "You have two grown sons and a baby who didn't live, is that right?"

"Two babies" my mother-in-law replies. The room went QUIET.  

Then our cousin, who is like a daughter to the m-i-l said "No, Auntie, you had one.  Maybe you're thinking of your sisters."  The m-i-l looked puzzled and then agreed that there was only one baby. 

But now I have questions.  Because it wouldn't be unheard of for this to happen and no one knowing about it.  I know that Kevin was a high-risk pregnancy and that they both nearly didn't make it.  The thought of an unknown pregnancy wouldn't be shocking.

Years ago, she told me about the first born son.  He was a stillborn or imminent death baby, caused by Thalidomide exposure.  She told me that only her sister was there and that she didn't see the baby or they wouldn't let her see him, she wasn't sure.  She said his lower half had under-developed.  

So, because I am Suzy Ask All The Questions, I asked her "Did you give him a name?"

She looked sheepish and said "Well, yes, we were going to name him after Dad."  I had to fix my face and not react because she named the brother-in-law the Dead Baby's name.  Yikes.  (and it just occurred to me that there's a Number Three, Four, and Five also with that name)

It's my understanding that in cases like this in the olden times, if you will, it is not unusual to reuse baby names or alter them slightly.   But this explained a lot about how the b-i-l turned out as a person and now  I feel sad that the first baby remained unnamed.

During the big photo project years ago, I found the identification card for the baby from the cemetery.  All it reads is "Baby Boy Surname" and where he is buried, which is heartbreakingly called "Babyland".  I had phoned at the time to confirm he was buried there and if he had a marker and if they had any additional information.  They did not and he did not have a marker so I added that to my long-term to do list.

Now back to current time, she was having a moment of clarity and we were talking about things you talk about when someone is dying.  She has been wavering between denial and acceptance, depending on who she is talking to and what time of day it is. Mix in her dementia and we just never know what she's going to say or remember.

Because she's a believer and she's said multiple times that she can't wait to see her family again, I mentioned "Just think of everyone you are going to see.  Your mama, your sisters, your brother..."  She smiled, she liked thinking about that.  She mentioned her dad, who was NOT a good person but we just smooth over that. Then we laughed because I realized we forgot Uncle Don AND his daughter (who was my age) and wouldn't they be mad.  Then she kind of balled up her fist "When I see Niece, I am going to sock her."  This made me laugh out loud.  "Let me get this straight: You're up there, reunited with all your family and everyone is happy. Then you're going to chastise Niece and get thrown out? Is that your plan?"  She kind of laughed and said "No but I really just want to.." and she shook her fists.   The image of my little, sweet mother-in-law socking my cousin at the gates of her heaven will be something that will make me laugh for the rest of my life.

*sidenote: Niece wasn't known for making good choices her whole life. She had an addiction problem and while it wasn't an overdose, use was a factor in her death*

Then she mentioned the first baby.  She said he was beautiful and that he had long, jet black hair like Dad.  I very much wanted to ask her how she knew because she said she didn't see him. It could be that she did see him but her brain self-protected, or she was told about him, or she's seen him around - if you will.  She believes in angels...and in aliens.

Later Kevin and I talked about the baby and how sad it was that he's gone unacknowledged.  It really bothered Kevin that he didn't have a name, or that his brother had the baby's name, I don't think he's sure.  A mixture of both, probably.

I confirmed with the cemetery that indeed he does not have a name and he does not have a marker.  I let Kevin know and wondered if he would be interested in getting a marker for him. He was very much in support of getting one.  But what would we put on it?  "Baby Boy Surname" is just sad.  But using his intended name seems sketchy, even though he didn't survive.  Then we came up with the idea of changing the middle name to her maiden name, a name that works as a first name or surname.

I asked her the next day and she thought about it.  She wasn't as clear-headed this time and she whispered "But...I was married when I had him."  She misunderstood that it would be the middle name. I just leaned down and stage-whispered "I know, that's not scandalous, you don't have to whisper." and we laughed.

Then we put a pin in the name issue as she was fading.  Now we are waiting for word from the cemetery about that whole process.

Either way, we have a Missed baby.  Kevin asked if it was "weird" to feel connected to him and I told him absolutely not.  It's a loss, even if it happened before his arrival.  Add to it the complicated relationship he has with his brother and it makes sense to me.

Finally, did all y'all know you can get stones or markers from the shmamazon or etsy?  You can!  My plan is to use etsy so I know it's handmade.  I can't imagine how expensive it will be through the cemetery and while this is important, we have to remember that it's still "just" a gesture.

Chicken Soup with Rice - March

 

Just One More Thing

 Contrary to the evidence that I'm writing this post, I have no internet.  It's snowing outside.  I'm jittery from my inhaler.  The contractors just cancelled for the parents house. I have two garbage bags of dry goods sitting on my kitchen floor.  And I decided that this morning was a good time to cut my hair.

How's your day going?  Oh, good.

(my response to your response works either way: Good = I'm happy you're having a good day or Good = I'm with you, friend. Life sucks right now.)

Let's just randomly start talking about all.the.things. that are happening.

The bags of dry goods on the floor is from the parents house.  I had to empty all of their food out because...ugh...a list:

a) we don't know when things are going to play out, if you will.  So most of the food will be expired

b) the house is so dirty that it feels like all of it should go, just on that principle. 

c) There was a water leak and the contractors have torn out the kitchen and bathroom.  This added urgency to the clean out the refrigerator, the freezer, the countertops (canisters, butter dish, bread box, spice rack) and the "pantry" cupboards.

So I have been playing "Expired, Not Expired or How Soon Expired?" for days now.  The oldest I had was 2018 canned goods yesterday morning until today's record of a packet of instant rice dated...2012.

I completely lost the game on Sunday when I brought over jarred goods from the refrigerator that had expired and needed recycling or nearly expired and we could use them.  One bite of a pickle that felt both hard and mushy and had a metallic taste had me spitting it into the garbage that smelled like TWO expired jars of minced garlic, just to add to the ambience.  

And now it's been snowing for two days.  We had only 1-2 inches yesterday on top of ice and a skiff of snow.  Now it's more like 3-4 inches and still snowing.  The contractors have cancelled for the day and I'm waiting for the same call for the internet repair.  Because who needs to work? Apparently not me.

I'm jittery from the inhaler because of aforementioned Parent's House.  What I had always attributed to Flowers that My M-i-l Buys in attempt to kill me, was actually dust, dirt, and mold.  I have gone months without needing my inhaler only to be a wheezing mess on the daily. #sosexy  Also, it took days to figure out that she uses scented garbage bags that my lungs also do not enjoy.

And I've been eating like an unsupervised child at a birthday party.  Coco Puffs for breakfast, Lotus drinks all the live-long day.  The sister-in-law has been cooking for everyone and they don't eat healthy at all ever. Plus we've been eating while we're in town for the ease and quick of it.

So of course my hair is bothering me. Like it does, in these instances.  It's way past time for a big girl haircut again but See All of The Above.  Now is just not the time.  I've nearly given myself bangs again because I can't deal with my hair in my face AND all of this. I have limits and shaving my head will cause me to have to move out. 

What else?  Oh paperwork.  I've rounded up all the parents paperwork finally.  I discovered a plastic basket under the free-standing jewelry box in their bedroom with their health info/medicare stuff for the past year.  Apparently, that's where we keep things now.  #letyourfriendsknow

I also found two big shoe boxes of important paperwork buried, unlabeled, in their closet.  Finally I have the actual life insurance policy and the title to one of their vehicles.  Yes, they have a lock box and imagine my surprise to not being able to find either of those in it. #rookie

Plus two photo albums...because she keeps hiding photos everywhere.  I think I'm done and then there's more. This has been going on FOR YEARS.  There is also a box (two, kinda) of sentimental items that I just don't have the strength to go through right now, as much as curiosity is killing me.

Finally, my father-in-law announced yesterday that he is NOT returning to their house after she passes. Not. He doesn't want to be there without her.  While I get that on an emotional level, I am at Panic Level 3000.  This means he lives with the siblings, which is apparently going to be a thing.  This also means that everything we packed up to get out of the way now needs packed up to GO Away.

Well, you just thought: isn't that the same thing? isn't that a good thing?  No, because we thought this was temporary - the water was shut off at their house - and we didn't WASH anything.  We had the intention of doing it while unpacking.

Now we have to re-sort and wash that stuff and now we may also have to start packing the rest of the house.  It's not like it's a lot of stuff but it's still just One More Thing.  (which has become a contender for my auto-biography title) As my sister-in-law is doing the lion's share of the care of the parents, it feels like TO ME that this is my and Kevin's thing. I don't see the f-i-l even coming back up to his house at this point and he is in the headspace of "Get rid of all of it, I'll buy new if I need something."

And if you wondered about Kevin's brother helping, the answer would be No.  He has hoarding tendencies, over-values stuff, and would just complicate matters SO MUCH.  His wife wondered at one point about him helping with a specific task.  I asked her "Are you ready for that stuff to come live at your house? Because that is what would happen."  She thought about it then shook her head.  So, no, he can't help.

Now it's the next day.  My internet is still broken but the tech is here right now.  The crew just left with a load for the dump and I'm hoping that will allow me to go start packing up/make a plan.  I still owe hours at work and there is still a box of sentimental items that I need to cull through.

Plus, it has to be said: I need to write the obituary and start printing photos for the memorial.  Better to do it now when I'm in Task Mode instead of In My Feelings.

I Need More Coco Puffs

 Okay, so this bloggity post is going to be a listicle:

1) Due to nationwide staffing shortages, we cannot find health aides/nurses for the mother-in-law that will allow for my sister-in-law to return to work

2) Family refuses to entertain the idea that we are perhaps at the level of needing to move her to a facility. Yet, see above.

3) The father-in-law has now been asked twice to stop telling her/family members that she is "doing great! She's getting better!"

4) The mother-in-law was in the expected but hoped it wouldn't happen "Queen mode" yesterday and reportedly refused to talk with the social worker.  (Queen mode usually happens after 7+ days of hospitalization and she stops being compliant as she usually is and gets pouty)

4) While we will have a better determination later today, we are looking at 1-2 more months of this

5) I had to organize their bills so nothing was missed.  She had receipts, bills, etc. tucked away EVERYWHERE.  E.v.e.r.y.w.h.e.r.e.  I got to play the "Is this important? No, it's dated 2019" game. While financially they're fine, there were a few unpleasant discoveries. Then the f-i-l got defensive about a bill being paid that was more than he thought and a utility bill that was three days late.  He originally agreed to have everything set to autopay but we've put a pin in that now.

6) I have discovered unclaimed cemetery plots for the parents.  Plus the need for a marker and name for a baby brother who was stillborn/imminent death upon birth in the late 50's. (that will be a whole post, later)

7) There has been a water leak at the parents house.  We don't know when it started. We do know that it's requiring the entire kitchen and bathroom floors AND CABINETS to be removed in order to repair.  It's going to take months to complete and makes the house uninhabitable.

8) Kevin and I are both feeling exhausted, yet guilty. We're not shouldering the burden of caring for both parents yet it has been relentless for us.   (again, see #2 on the list)

9) I have a feeling there's another shoe about to be dropped and I can't figure out from which direction. This feeling is rarely wrong so that's super fun to have running around in my brain.  (my guess is it will be from my bio family)

10) I've been having Coco Puffs for breakfast because I need a little bit of happy in my life.  I need more Coco Puffs.

Happy President's Day

 The other day the youngest nephew was here and we were talking about school.  I mentioned that neither of us have school on Monday.  He wondered why. (great job, American education system) I explained that it's a day to "celebrate" our former presidents, specifically the Very First One Ever and Lincoln who did a really hard thing twice. Then I had to phrase slavery in a way that's not traumatizing to a seven-year-old.  

I explained that people kidnapped other people, took them far away from their homes and made them work as prisoners forever.  I ended it with "And those people were black or brown and some people thought because they looked different then they're not human.  Isn't that just dumb?" 

HE SAYS, with a wave of his hand: "That's ReeDICyoulus!!!"  My gawd, this kid.  

Anyway, that was a tangent, Hey, hi, hello, it's me I'm the problem it's me.

Because we just had a four-year reign of ignorance, greed, and terror - that it seems like there's no end in sight - it's difficult to think that we are ever going to have a Washington, a Lincoln, a JFK or even a Carter again.

(I know emotions are at an all time high over here and we shouldn't be surprised that President Carter is in hospice but I wasn't ready)

I grew up in the seventies and I only remember Nixon as a grumpy, angry man on television.  Then there was Ford with his frowny face. Carter who was always so kind and gentle and like Mr. Rogers as President. Then Reagan.  He was president as I was beginning to understand politics and civics.  He allowed the pandemic of AIDS to rage with little to no sympathy, he cut funding to the mental health community, Say No to Drugs and Warning labels on music was under his reign.  As a rebellious teenager and just as a mere human, I was specifically Not A Fan.

So, my point is that the presidents whom I would consider me a fan of are few.  We had eight years of fantastic social progression only to have it summarily dismantled.  We are in such disarray now that I just have little expectation or hope for the near future years.  Maybe I'm just a cynical GEN X'er.

With that, here is my favorite "president" quote ever from one of my Top Three Favorite Movies Ever:

Work the Problem

 And now Kevin and I are both sick with a cold.  You know, because why not?  Why not add more nonsense to this time of our lives.

We are masking up and trying to stay away the best we can.  This is not the time to not spend time with people so we're adapting.  And, as my dark heart pointed out to Kevin yesterday "What's the worse thing that is going to happen?"  because it's already happening.

Now, where are we in this adventure?  Sigh.  

The father-in-law is home now, with the siblings and his wife.  He looks and sounds really good and when I spoke to him a little while ago he said he was going to go take a nap.  This is unusual and a really good boundary for him to have.  

The mother is a little weaker every day and each hour is different than the others.  Sometimes she's coherent and sometimes not so much.  She sleeps about 80% of the day.  In fact, after her husband arrived home, they visited for a few minutes then she said she was going to sleep a while.  

The hospice folks said that there is a measurement for this whole thing.  It is:

If they weaken by the DAY, it will be days-weeks until their demise.

If they weaken by the WEEK, it will be weeks-months.

We are at the Day part.  She went from being able to shuffle to the bathroom on her own to not being able to lift her legs or chair transfer in four days.  The transition was quick and abrupt.  It's as if she just leaned into it all of a sudden.

My prediction is that now her husband is home and she has seen most of the family, it will be days.  She's surprised us before and we'll see. 

Everyone is in Combat Mode right now.  We're working the problems out as they arise, we are adapting everything we can think of and we're trying to look at what the future is going to be. I think it will hit Kevin and I after this whole thing is over, I think we're both too busy to process everything.

Now that's not to say he didn't cry when the neighbor offered condolences in the middle of the driveway or that I didn't get teary dropping her meds off at the pharmacy for disposal.  We're not robots.

The hospice people have been incredible.  It's like calling in the National Guard.  They walk in, assess the situation, get to work and provide tools and support for everyone around them.  It's a relief.  The validation is also a relief; a sense of "Okay, we're not being melodramatic, This is happening."

We are working on getting help with respite care and nursing care with the state but that process takes so ridiculously long that she may be passed before anything happens.  This then brings me to the "Cringey yelling at the person who was rude to me about the person who was rude to me" story.

Because there's always a story.

The past eight days have been full of phone calls, appointments, more phone calls, forms, faxes, more appointments, document signings.  It feels relentless, at first.  Add having to close the parents house because no one is returning to it any time soon AND going through their paperwork to make sure we have everything, bills are paid, and nothing is missed.

The other day - because they're ALL "the other day" anymore - we had just gone to see my f-i-l at the care facility, met with the social worker, and had papers signed.  Afterward, we stopped at the grocery store to pick up meds for the m-i-l, buy flowers to give her from the f-i-l, and get lunch/dinner for us.

And my phone rings.  It's a number I don't know, which in normal world means I won't answer it.  But in this new world, I have to.  In the middle of a grocery store.  

The woman has a sharp voice/tone.  Immediately I'm on edge because See All of The Above.  She states who she is and why she is calling.  She is the case manager for the state to set-up in-home care.  She says that she can see the family on....Wednesday....the 22nd.

I actually laughed a little and said "Well, we'll see. She might be gone by then and this will be for nothing."  She didn't see the humor it as she wasn't supposed to.  I reiterated that she is in hospice and time is of the essence, the family is exhausted and in over our heads, and just GAH.

She "reminds" me that this appointment is "just" the qualification process and they screen for two things: functional and financial.  I mentioned that as she is in HOSPICE it feels like she qualifies. 

"*I* am the one who makes that determination." she retorts. (I don't think I have ever used that word but it fits well here)

I took a breath, counted to three, and said "If someone who is in hospice and on their way OUT doesn't qualify then WHO DOES."  She took this defensively and started to go through her elevator speech.

I cut her off and said "Okay, so the 22nd and maybe she'll be alive still." 

This left her annoyed - stand in line, lady - and she told me that as she had called me, her number is now on my phone and to "Save it so you have it."  All in a tone that was reminiscent of my mother when she is in queen-mode.  

We hung up.  I explained to Kevin what had just happened and he was annoyed as well. I told him that I'm certain I wasn't at my best and I'm tired and overwhelmed but DAMN, she was rude. I set it aside and moved on to the next 1,000 tasks on the list.

The next morning, the conversation still was bothering me.  This is my measurement of whether or not I want to do something about it.  I did.

I phoned the main office, was transferred to another office then had to leave a voicemail.  I was in the process of emailing the people who were helping walk us through this when my phone rang.

I answered and she explained that she was returning my call and that I had concerns. I explained - probably in one long breath - what had happened during the phone call, what had transpired to put us in the situation, and what my expectations were going forward.

And she says "Okay, well, I am the person you spoke to yesterday."

Oh.

My.

Gawd.

I actually laughed and replied "Okay, well, GOOD. We are on the same page then." To her credit, she took it on the chin.  She apologized, she regulated her tone.  She admitted it was late in the day and probably neither of us at our best.  

And she's still not coming until the 22nd.  If there is a cancellation, she will make arrangements for earlier but we're just waiting.  In the meanwhile, she sent an application packet that is so extensive.  It would be intimidating if I were completing it for ME, let alone for the parents.  I don't know how people who don't have a Me, if you will, can manage these things.

So, now we wait. It feels like we have addressed everything that we can.  Family and friends have come to visit for their final goodbyes.  The f-i-l is home.  There's nothing to do but wait.  Kevin went to work, knowing that he's going to get the call to come home.  I'm trying to work between phone calls, texts, and document requests.

Then there's the leak in the kitchen of the parents house.  Because of course there is.

Where to Even Start...

Do I tell you about making the pharmacy people cry?

Or the cringey yelling at the person who was rude to me about the person who was rude to me?

Or about the knife in the glove box

Or the missing baby

Or the weird I.D. card from the cemetery 

Or Kevin and I yelling "Not It" at the hospice nurse

Or sharing scandalous family stories to strangers 

Or the beautiful valentines the young cousin helped make

Or the archaeological dig that was the parents house (and van)? 

I mean...it's been A LOT.  This past week has been nonstop.  It has been the Most Dramatic Episode of Raising Parents, Ever.

To sum up, in seven days the parents were both in the hospital - not together because that would be too easy - and now one is in hospice and one is in a care facility.  

I told you, A LOT.

What had happened was Kevin's mom went into the hospital with stomach pain and came out with pneumonia.  She was home four days...maybe, I think...and we had to call the ambulance twice.  Twice they did not take her because it was deemed too risky and traumatic to take her to the hospital. 

The paramedic on the first occurrence was the one who called it: "It's time to call hospice, she's not leaving this house again."

A LOT.

In the meanwhile, my father-in-law made three trips to the E.R. in four days and ended up in a care facility for two weeks.  We are bringing him home to the siblings house where we have the m-i-l set up for hospice. 

It's A LOT.

So, that gives everyone a This is What's Happening and a little something something to look forward to.

The Knife in the Van Story:

Clearly, no one is driving the van right now and won't be for a while, if ever again.  As it turns out, one of the young cousins car is broken down so they are borrowing it.  I didn't know the borrowing part until about two hours prior to them picking it up.  And I panicked.

The van is an extension of the house: cluttered, dirty, just...eww.  I grabbed my detail box and started to work.  Mydawg.  I started laughing about it, that kind of laugh where you're dangerously close to cracking.  Kevin came to help and did for a little bit before he just threw his hands and said "I just can't with that." 

SO MANY STRAWS.  I mean, no exaggeration twenty straws is an undersestimate. It was like a magician's hat: straws kept coming out of that damn van.  And napkins. So many napkins. Oh, and sunglasses.  She is a hoarder of dollar store sunglasses. Ten? I think I found ten sunglasses.

Two hats, one pair of socks, three sets of gloves, travel pack kleenex.  Receipts of all kinds, everywhere. Two stuffed AFLAC ducks. A plastic crate of CD's. Lots of fries and snacky things on the floor. (Lucy had the best day ever)

But this sent me over the edge.  I was cleaning out the glovebox.  Once I got out all the straws, napkins and sunglasses, I found a glasses case.  There was plastic cutlery - a mixture of picnic style and regular plastic.  And a knife.  A paring knife kind of knife.  A legit knife.

I mean...what?  I guess she/they were being safe by having it in a glasses case? And in the glovebox?

Kevin thought maybe it was from when they were fishing then he realized his dad always has a pocket knife. (well, actually he was carrying two when I brought his clothes home from the hospital) 

The only thing I can think of is she kept it there to cut her food when they got fast food.  Because that is good decision making on all levels. Obviously.

And I can think of the unsanitariness of that. I just can't.

It's been A LOT.

How It's Going

 

I kinda just want to post this without context.  It's a long story.

We have a new chapter in the Raising Parents book: Hospice and Care Facility.  Right now everyone is alive and fine but their fates are in the air.  

How's that for a cliffhanger?

LONG post later this week with context and plenty of WTF moments to share.

You're So Cold

 Second installment of sharing the insta photos.  February 2022.

Cold as #$%@ at the ocean and might have gotten a little damp with this photo.  

Chicken Soup with Rice - February

 

Year Three of Groundhog Day

All the other countries in the world and the aliens must think we are just astoundingly crazy.

From the Wikipedia:

 Groundhog Day  is a popular North American tradition observed in the United States and Canada on February 2. It derives from the Pennsylvania Dutch superstition that if a groundhog emerges from its burrow on this day and sees its shadow due to clear weather, it will retreat to its den, and winter will go on for six more weeks; if it does not see its shadow because of cloudiness, spring will arrive early.

To others, it's this movie and then ironically? or prophetically? it became 2020-2023

Then I searched "Vintage Groundhogs Day" because a search that includes "vintage" usually brings postcards or greeting cards or advertisements.

INSTEAD, I got this creepy, maybe a little threatening, cartoon that was featured in Jack and Jill Magazine in 1957. A Children's magazine, nonetheless.

So, Happy Groundhog Day to those who celebrate. Or Happy Every Other Day to everyone else. 

lolsigh

Carpet Will Fix This

 I am exhausted.  Not the tired from a long week, or the tired from doing something fun, or from being ill, or even from lack of sleep.  I am just exhausted.  My brain can't process anymore information, my body is unwilling to move any more than what is necessary.

When last we left the parents, the m-i-l was hospitalized for acute kidney failure, diverticulosis.  In Critical Care. With hopes of going home in two days.

Indeed, she did not go home in two days.  That night she had a heart episode featuring high blood pressure, chest pain and shortness of breath.  The on call doctor ran all the tests and whisked her off to Critical Care. No one knew about this until I logged into the medical records at 5:30 the next morning.  Then I had to phone Kevin to let him know; not my favorite phone call.

At that point, they also discovered that she was developing pneumonia, which is of no surprise to anyone.  

They ruled out a heart attack. They ruled out panic attack. They ruled out Broken Heart Syndrome (which she also has)  They determined that it was her body's reaction to the whole thing plus the re-distribution of her eleventy medicines. (they were being converted to liquid) We are now back to wait and see.  

Now today, Saturday, we find both parents home and my f-i-l briefly hospitalized.  Yeah, some whiplash there, huh?

On Thursday, the hospital discharged the  m-i-l because she was deemed at greater risk in the hospital for secondary infections than she would be at home.  (yes, even though they refused in-home health care)   So, we shrugged and moved on.  We know she's going to end up back at the hospital again so we're just along for the ride.

The parents returned home late in the afternoon and got settled in back into the house.  Kevin came home a little early to check on them and that's when the circus music began to play.

Having been away from her house for seven days, the m-i-l returned home with fresh eyes.  She found herself horrified at the state of the house.  Horrified.

She wasn't blaming her spouse for not taking care of it in her absence or acknowledging the fact that we have been saying for a very long time that they needed help. Nor was she complaining about taking care of the b-i-l's large dog, which requires a crate and pillow. (in a 12 ft. by 12 ft. room at largest) and pees when it gets excited.

Nope, it was the carpet.  The carpet was the cause of the dirty.  It was old, it showed dirt and stains, and it Had To Be what was making her sick.  All the reasons why she was in the hospital were momentarily lost to her focus on the carpet.

It has to be said that she's not totally wrong.  But it is so far off target of the cause of their overall issues that it's dumbfounding.

But, I think this is something she feels like she can control.  She thinks that if they get new carpet, the house will be clean, and they will then magically be able to care for their house.  Unlike before. The carpet will change everything.

Now, to clarify: we're not being judgey. This is not simple clutter.  I mean mold in the sink and in the dish dryer, filthy carpets and floor, dirty bathroom and yes, lots of dust and clutter too.  Plus a big dog on the weekdays and their little elderly dog.  

If you're wondering "Well, there are four adults that live with/near them. Why isn't anyone taking care of it?"  We've tried in the past during hospitalizations: I would clean it for them so that was one less worry.  Then I got so frustrated with them that Kevin said to just stop. (also, the sister-in-law never helps unless specifically asked)  We even paid our niece to clean and they told her to stop because there "wasn't enough for her to do".

So I was tasked with going to get carpet samples and then "we" would work on the rest of it.  Alas, this is the only help they are accepting.

2:43 the next morning, Kevin's phone rings.  I actually thought "Which one is dead?" upon waking.  This is where we are now.

This time it's Kevin's dad.  He's sick and can't get out of bed and is unresponsive.  We dress and rush over there.  Kevin's mom reiterates that he's been sick, throwing up, and that there was blood.  I hear Kevin try to get a response from his dad and gets a mumble/mutter. I hear Kevin say that he agreed to it and I phoned the ambulance.

While we wait, Kevin tries to get more information from the mom. PLUS we're trying to get her into her recliner, put on her oxygen, and calm down.  Unknown to me, Kevin called his brother and gave him ZERO OPTION to come help.

The aid car arrives and about five other support vehicles.  I'm trying to remember what his health history is and keep leaving things out; like a PACEMAKER.  I now have a list on my phone for when this happens again.  I can do the mothers by rote and now I have to memorize his.

The f-i-l is slowly becoming more responsive as they take his vitals and try to figure out what should be done.  Eventually, he INSISTS on seeing his medicine.  LIke, rose his voice insists.  I have the written list in my hand but he wants to see his actual pill box.

Hey, remember about six years ago when he gave himself a stroke when he took the m-i-l's meds and didn't tell anyone.  I am having flashback of this.  I share this information with the paramedics as well.

They decided to take him to the hospital and we are playing paper-rock-scissors who goes to the hospital and who stays with the mother.  Kevin and I follow the ambulance and the siblings stay with the mother. 

By the time he is admitted into the hospital, he says he feels fine. Nothing is wrong.  This is where I remember that this happened LAST TIME.  She had a hospital stay, returned home, then he ended up in the E.R. shortly thereafter. So that's something to add to the list

The E.R. doctor was so good with him.  She didn't take his bullsh*t at all.  She listened as we reported what we knew and tried to reconcile it with what he was saying.  Kevin even went as far as to call his mother so the doctor could hear the conversation.  The mother said he was throwing up blood and it was a mess. He said he was coughing and there was a little blood.

They ran all the tests, took an EKG and xray.  Nothing.  Everything is fine.

EXCEPT, he would fall asleep and the monitor kept alerting.  Well, it turns out that he has severe sleep apnea.  Did he know this? YES.  Did he have a CPAP machine?  Yes but no.  He  gave it to the b-i-l because he wasn't using it and THE BROTHER DIDN'T WANT TO PAY FOR HIS OWN MACHINE.  Now the f-i-l can't get a new one because medicare already paid for one.

I KNOW RIGHT

So, add that issue to all of the lists.

Finally, the doctor says that she has no idea what had happened but she was assured that his tests all came back fine.  We did eventually learn that my f-i-l had taken his morning series of meds TWICE that day. While there was nothing super dangerous, it could maybe might have contributed to him being sick.

It was also posited that it could be exhaustion and an adrenaline dump from the mother's hospital stay.  THEN they did one last test: dehydration.  He was dehydrated. %@#*#

So, the hospital discharged him and we returned home. Kevin tucked them back into their house and was just "What do we do?"  The answer is the same as always: nothing.  There is nothing we can do.

There was a meeting of sorts between the boys and them the next day.  They were told very clearly that we - as a family - cannot keep doing this.  These past two hospitalizations were self-inflicted.  They agreed and said they would talk about it

Meanwhile, I did go get carpet samples and accidentally had a therapy session with the sales woman because she asked why I was shopping for carpet for my parents.  I owe her flowers.

They have since agreed to have my sister-in-law's sister come clean their house weekly.  We will help pay for it.  Her sister is A LOT but she's the kind of person who is good with the elderly.  I have little hope of this being a long  term thing but it's a step.

THEN.  AND THEN.  My f-i-l phoned me last night.  He was super cheery and soliticious, which is unlike him.  "He" was thinking and the parents thought that it's time to get help with the meds and the food.  He asked if I would help figuring that out.  Of course, I answered cheerily while trying not to flail my whole body across the kitchen.

I will work on getting that set up on Monday.  I am skeptical of this as well.  It's going to take the nurse doing something differently or one of them being in a mood and they will decide that it isn't going to work. I'm just steeling myself for that now.

But it's something. It's a step.  Maybe I'll be wrong.

In the meanwhile, I have to go order carpet now.

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