Monday, January 02, 2017
Today I am grateful for coping mechanisms. I spent a great portion of the day on the phone with my sister and we are both exhausted. Mom is in the hospital and to say she turns into a pit bull at times like this is an insult to the pit bull.
Oh come on. . .I love her. . .of course, I love her. And I know many of you who have lost dear parents very recently must think me a terrible person. I feel horrible for you, just like I will fell horrible when the day comes for us with my mom. She is a funny, opinionated, clever woman. . .until she doesn’t get her own way 100% of the time. So please forgive me my rant, but to put this barb-tongued woman on a pedestal right now would turn my flesh inside out and I need my flesh, though maybe not so much of it. Some things you just have to experience and this is one of them. . .yet I hope you are never faced with it.
When I called my sister this morning as she was walking into mom’s room I heard, “I’m in PRISON!” Aaaand we’re off! Oh boy! We decided to talk later. When we did, mom was finishing her breakfast, which she had ordered. Banana bread. Okay. She has it at home every morning so that’s good. Then lunch arrived. Angel food cake, which she also ordered. The nurse came in and asked where lunch was? Mom said it was there and pointed to the cake. “I’m not that hungry anyway.” Was her response when the nurse went to get a dietician to visit her. Good luck Angel of Mercy. You’re going to need it. I bet half the floor is putting in for vacation this week.
Have you ever been in the hospital where there was one patient that was screaming and moaning half the time and complaining the rest of the time? You know, the one who is making the nurses lives miserable so that they hang in your room for a few minutes of sanity, like they did when I was in last year. Usually the poor soul has dementia and/or other mental issues. But not always. It might be my mom.
Look, she’s feeling a little better and for that I am very glad. But she is already screaming at everyone that she wants to go home. . . yet she can barely move from bed to chair so how can she manage that? On speaker phone I mentioned that she lives alone. She shouted at me, “I do NOT live alone!!!!” Really? Did a Chippendale dancer move in when we weren’t looking? “Who lives with you, Mom? You live alone,” I said. “Louise!” Her cat. “And I suppose the cat can get your meds and cook your meals, too?” She growled at me and shouted, “SHUT UP, MARY!” Grrrr.
We are beside ourselves with frustration. I wish I lived closer so I could drink with my sister. That might help. Many of you will think me a very bad daughter for even posting this. Unless you know my mom. And know her well. Those of you who do will understand that I needed to color today. A lot! It’s my coping mechanism. God bless my sister. God bless my mom. God bless us everyone. And keep the coloring books close by!