wildcelticrose.net

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In hopes of staving off “you should/you aren’t/you didn’t” from my mother’s friends, I have sent them the following email”

I spoke with Coast City Cremation this morning.

~L

I hope that they respect that, and don’t pressure me to go down there or do other things that they think I should do.

I don’t want to cause them any more pain than they are already feeling, but I want/need my boundaries and decisions respected.

This is already difficult enough.

~L

Mood: sad

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There won’t be any WTF Wednesday post today; I just don’t have it in me.

I suppose when I’m feeling up to it, I could rant about how our society doesn’t allow people any time to grieve the deaths of their family or loved ones (or heaven forbid deal with guilt/anger/regret from a complicated childhood or traumatic circumstances involving the death) because they are immediately overwhelmed by the need to decide immediately (sometimes before the body is even cold) to move the remains (to a funeral home that will screw them out of as much money as possible when they are in shock, mourning and vulnerable) the pressure to take care of finances they know nothing about, and pressure from others about how they “should” mourn and what they “should” be doing.

Even the onslaught of condolences and well wishes from friends is exhausting.

I finally put a message on my phone voice mail and email that I’m just not up to responding to everyone right now. (pretty much the only people I’ve been willing to see are Molly and the Icky Boy and only because they don’t push and give me my space)

I was going to try to go to work on Thursday (Mon-Wed is my 3 days of bereavement leave and Friday was my scheduled day off) but I’m not up to it. The first time someone says, “I’m so sorry about your Mom.” I’m going to lose it.

I got all of the death certificate and cremation paperwork yesterday (they didn’t contact me until too late in the day on Monday to do anything, so it was no big deal that I wasn’t here)

I was going to have her ashes scattered in the ocean; her friends want the ashes.

Fine-I signed them over.

I’m still waiting for paperwork from the Public Administrator’s office.

One of her friends wants to buy her car. I don’t know how that works if I’m signing off executorship to the PA’s office. I guess I’ll have to find out. If it’s in my power, I’ll just give her the car.

I’m still having a hard time with all of the Mom Drama that went on at the end of last year and earlier this year, not to mention the childhood baggage this has all dredged up.

People will not understand when I refuse to go down there and enter her mobile home to clean it out and sort through her things.

She’s always been a hoarder and after what the medical examiner told me about the condition of the place, there’s no way in hell I’m going in there. Not now, not ever. (having entered scenes like that as a paramedic, I already have a horrid image of it and how she was found burned into my brain)

In addition to the obvious reasons to not want to sort through moldy remnants of my abusive childhood; it’s not how I want to remember her. (I was never allowed in there and always saw her at her office or a restaurant.)

I’m having a difficult time with all of this.

The heat is not helping.

It was “down” to 90 degrees in my bedroom last night when I went to bed. Needless to say, I don’t feel rested or refreshed this morning.

We are supposed to break the all time record for Seattle-Tacoma (official temperature measured at Sea-Tac Airport) with a temperature of 101 today. My apartment may hit 100 degrees today (the highest it ever got before this record is 98)

People don’t have air conditioning in their homes up here in the Pacific Northwest and swamp coolers don’t work (too much humidity) so we have to just suck it up and deal with it.

My little window fans can’t handle how hot my apartment gets (with its SouthWest Exposure and sun beating on the windows and thin walls since the slum lords cut down the tree that shaded the place.

I have on oscillating fan in the living room which isn’t sufficient to push air through even a place this tiny.

Of course, there are no fans to be found; I’ve called every store I can think of and everyone is sold out.

If I had my wits about me last week, I’d have purchased a box fan or two but I was too distracted.

I will just suck it up, take cool showers and lay in front of the fan. I might spend the night over at the Icky Boy’s as his house is a bit cooler.

I did escape to the most remote spot on the North Coast Wilderness Trail that I could get to for two days.

I knew that I had a short time frame in which to escape from the onslaught of calls and emails and I took it.

It didn’t bring me “peace”

As a matter of fact I didn’t sleep much on Sunday night, I was tortured by the “brain gerbils” working on overdrive and nightmares. Monday night was a bit better, but not much.

In any event, it got me away from the phone and email and did distract me for a time.

I was able to cut the photos I took down to 243; they are available as a slide show here…

Or viewable as individual photos here…

I’m not up to writing a trip report yet. Maybe later.

For now, it’s back to reality.

~L

Mood: Tired

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After not hearing from my mother since she yelled at me last Thursday night on the phone (and then took it off the hook) I got worried that she could be laying on the floor after taking (yet another) fall dying of dehydration and internal bleeding.

If she chooses to take her own life, that’s one thing, but the thought of her dying a horrible death (which appears to be in her future if she doesn’t change) like that is not something I could live with.

No one had seen her for over a week.

Her mail was still piled up on the porch railing (her neighbor puts it where she can reach it from the back door so that she does not have to go down the steps to go to the mailbox.)

I had to try.

I called the police last night to have them do another welfare check.

She was still alive, refused to come to the door and told them to go away.

They told her that I was worried and that she should call me.

She did not call me, and the phone is still off the hook.

I called the phone company this morning and they tested the line for me.

The phone is off the hook.

I called Adult Protective Services and filed a report.

The told me the same thing that the police did, they can’t force her to accept help.

If she appears “OK” (she’s not OK-that, along with the filth and clutter she lives in is why she won’t come to the door) they can’t force entry or make her do anything because she is an adult in her “right mind”.

I know that if I go down there, she won’t open the door for me either.

She’s afraid that she’ll be put in a home and she doesn’t want anyone in her house helping her.

I just don’t have words.

This will probably be the last you hear from me on this, as it’s depressing and going nowhere.

We all know where this will end; she’ll finally be found dead, and it won’t have been an easy or peaceful death.

Perhaps then, she will find the peace that she never found in life.

~L

Mood: sad

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My mother is pissed at her neighbors, pissed at her friends and pissed at me over the police being called.

They can not legally force entry.

She has had the phone off the hook all day (and who knows, maybe all night)

I appreciate all the suggestions of calling different agencies, it’s been done.

She is a master manipulator and a bald faced lair.

I found out yesterday from her neighbor that when she had the severe edema (swelling for those not up on medical terminology) it was all the way up to her waist (why her heart didn’t stop completely I don’t know) She told the doctor that is “just happened a day or so ago” and never let them see how far up it was.

She knew she was diabetic, and she’d go on crazy crash diets to get her blood sugar down just before her appointments so that her blood sugar would test out OK.

She has a mass on her kidney that she refuses to have looked at (she’s had cancer twice and doesn’t want to go through that kind of treatment again)

She was working in a law office up until she finally went in for surgery.

She is as sharp as a tack, knows that she can not be declared unable to care for or make decisions for herself and that there is no implied consent. (and did I mention that she’s a charmer and manipulative?)

Shes’ not stupid and has brought every bit of this on herself by refusing to take her medications (I begged and pleaded with her to take her blood pressure medication when I was in my 20s as a paramedic telling her how people who don’t have strokes and end up in extended care facilities having their diapers changes and being fed through a tube in their nose)

The only reason she agreed to the surgery earlier this year is because she hoped she’d die on the operating table (she told this to both me and her surgeon)

She won’t go to the doctor or let anyone in to her home because she KNOWS that she will not be allowed to live alone in her filthy (she’s a hoarder) mobile home. She doesn’t want anyone in there and doesn’t want to be put in a home.

I’ve dropped everything and flown/drove out there more times that I can count only to have her return to her self destructive lifestyle. (which is a lot more than should be expected given the abuse I put up with as a child)

I’m not doing it any more.

I can’t make her want to live.

I can’t make her take care of herself.

I can try to not let it make me physically ill again (trust me, this brings back a lot of my childhood/abuse issues) and not end up like her. (and I’m most certainly not going down there, break into her house and potentially have a criminal record that will lose me my job)

Unless she suddenly decides that she has something to live for (not likely) I expect that she will be dead (either intentionally or unintentionally) by this time next week.

It’s what she wants.

~L

Mood: resigned

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I have to get this off my chest or explode. (or worse, make myself sick again)

At the beginning of this year my mother’s many years of depression, alcohol abuse, refusal to eat properly, exercise or take her meds, as well as her constant deception/manipulation caught up with her.

She could no longer lie to her doctor (and everyone else) and hide how severe her edema and diabetes was (she almost lost her leg and her life to septic shock) she was admitted to the hospital, went through a risky bypass surgery to try to save her leg and then had to spend some time in a convalescent facility.

The lying, manipulation and frustration during this whole episode brought back a lot of childhood issues. (gross understatement)

I don’t believe in playing the victim card. In the end, we are the ones responsible for what kind of person we choose to become in life. But growing up in an abusive, alcoholic household makes it a challenge. To say that it doesn’t affect us, that it didn’t affect me and my ability to trust and have healthy relationships would be disingenuous; heck, it would be a bald faced lie.

I don’t know what it’s like to have a parent that I could trust not to hurt me, or to not even lie to me. It’s difficult to know that you can not/have never been able to trust your own mother.

I’ve chosen not to be bitter; I’ve chosen to be the best daughter I can and not to hurt my mother by being angry towards her about it or to shut her out of my life. There is no reason to hurt her more than she’s already been hurt. (she was a victim as well; she didn’t intend to cause me harm)

But the being lied to again did bring things back.

I allowed the stress of this situation, as well as the past trauma it brought up to make me stressed, sleep deprived and as a result, very sick (I bonked on the Chilly Hilly bike ride with a heart rate of 215)

During this time, in addition to saving her leg and stopping the infection raging through her body they managed to reverse most of the congestive heart failure and get her diabetes (both of which she denied having) under control.

When she finally got out, she swore that she would do her physical therapy, exercise/walk, take her medications, go to her doctor’s appointments and eat properly.

She swore she was a “changed woman” because she “never wants to go through that again.”

She was lying.

She was lying to me, her doctors, her friends and most of all herself.

Am I surprised?

No.

Am I disappointed?

Hell Yes!

People in my family live long productive lives, when they choose to do so.

None of this was about genetics, it was all about her abusing herself.

Heck, I met Sister Madonna at the Moses Lake Olympic Triathlon. She is the same age as my mother (79) and is an Ironman.

I don’t expect my mother to do something that extreme, but it is an example that age doesn’t matter and that a person can overcome just about anything if they choose to.

I would think that this near death and traumatic experience might convince her to take her medication and take a walk (in her very safe community with other people)

People can do amazing things with their lives if they choose.

Or they can piss them away.

As I type this, my mother is holed up in her mobile home refusing to answer the door, even when the police (who were called by her former boss/long time friend to do a welfare check because they couldn’t get a hold of her her two days after she had fallen and was taking a lot of pain medication) banged on it for a good long time.

She’s pissed at her neighbor, and pissed at me because she thinks I called her former boss (he was the one who contacted me today) after she forbade me from contacting him after she was released from the hospital months ago.

She’s been falling and injuring herself again, adjusting her own medications (not taking what she should, and taking things not currently prescribed), not doing her physical therapy or exercising and hasn’t been going to the doctor. She promised to call him on Monday after she told me about her latest fall, but has yet to do so because she “hasn’t had time”-she’s just been taking lots of pain meds.

Sadly, the police can’t force entry unless they see her on the floor, and she’s got the place sealed up too tightly for that. I guess they’ll have to wait for the day that the neighbors complain about the rotting stench of her corpse. (yes, it’s crass, but it’s the way it is)

She’s pissed at her neighbor and Ed for calling the police and for banging on her doors and window (in the middle of the day when most people who aren’t drugged out are awake)

I’ve been telling her over and over that she’s going to fall and die a slow painful death in there and that if she continues this way that social services will become involved and she might get taken away and put in a home. (I was pretty sure that threat would go nowhere because she knows that if she’s in her right mind there is no implied consent-never try to bluff someone that has worked in the legal field, especially not one who is a master manipulator)

She also went off on me at the thought that I might call her doctor to tell him what’s going on since she hasn’t even though she promised to do so. (she’d just lie to him like she always has anyway)

She’s made it very clear that she’s the “adult” and I’m not to call anyone.

Uh… yeah… right…

I can’t make her take care of herself and I can’t do anything to change her living arrangements (she should NOT be living alone and knows it) not even legally at this point.

I’m determined not to let this make me sick again or to let anyone guilt me.

No one needs to respond too this, I just needed to get it off my chest.

~L

Mood: Resigned

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First, I’d like everyone who has commented sent emails, texts and twitters to accept my humble thanks for taking the time to do so. Knowing that I have people who care, many of whom have been through the same type of thing really helps.

I do apologize for not replying. I’m a bit overwhelmed right now and just can’t handle doing so. Please know that I appreciate all of you. (except the person that popped over from someone else’s LiveJournal to give me crap about my “You owe it to those you love” post; if you don’t like what I post on MY journal when I’m in pain and hoping to help others, feel free to stay off of it; you were never invited in the first place)

Please also know that my mother is not a bad person and is not intentionally being manipulative. I appreciate the attempts to commensurate; but that really isn’t the way she is.

When she says that she “Don’t worry, I’ve lived a full life” and refuses heart surgery (although I’ve recognized that she has congestive heart failure and has for some time, she claims the doctor always told her that her heart is good) and the recommended amputation of her foot (she claims she’s not diabetic but they are giving her insulin) she does honestly mean that she’d rather die that go through that at her age (78). It’s not a guilt thing (although and it does make me feel guilty because I’ve never been able to get her take care of herself and follow doctors orders). I don’t think she understands how horrible it would be to die of blood poisoning and gangrene. Although it breaks my heart, I don’t really blame her for wanting to just let go.

She was abused as a child and was abused in her marriage to my step-father (I watched him hit her in the face so hard that the bridgework was knocked out of her mouth) Women didn’t have resources in the 60′s early 70′s and these things were dirty little secrets back then. She and I were trapped in a violent, sexually abusive alcoholic home.

She couldn’t protect me and I am angry about that. But I feel guilty for being angry because she couldn’t even protect herself. I can honestly say that anything she ever did, she believed was in my best interest. (I won’t go into all of them, but some have taken a lot of forgiving and trying to forget)

We never formed the normal bond that mothers and daughters do (FYI, she never formed that with her own mother). It’s no one’s fault, and it can’t be fixed (imagine not being able to feel safe or trust anyone growing up; the bonds that form in those circumstances are different). We have a different relationship and we accept that and work with it; it’s more than most people in our circumstances have.

Part of the reason I chose not to reproduce (although I did raise someone else’s child for a time, and dedicated myself to doing the best job of it that I could) is to break the cycle of abuse and dysfunction. I never had a model for a healthy relationship, neither did my mother. I also never met anyone I’d be willing to raise children with. Bringing another human being into this world is a huge responsibility and I wasn’t about to do that and screw it up. As it turns out, I made the right call, I continually chose men that were abusive, manipulative, controlling, addicted or dishonest.

I think that I may finally have gotten it right with the man I’m dating now, but am afraid, that like so many others, when he sees my weaknesses, insecurities and fears, he will be disillusioned with me. I’m feeling very anxious and out of (inward) emotional control. I’m afraid I will drive him away. (I’ve got lots of random, unsubstantiated fears right now)

The economy and being understaffed and overwhelmed at work (and not knowing the job situation until med next month after the board meets) already had me twitchy. This thing with my mom just added a big fat pile of new stress with the added bonus of dredging up childhood trauma.

So I’m trying my best to manage what stress I do have control over. No matter how bad my back hurts (I’m all knotted up with stress) I am getting out to exercise.

I am taking my four days off, with the exception of going in on Saturday when no one else is around to get caught up a bit.

I am letting the icky boy know how I am feeling (no drama, just honesty) and that I appreciate his patience and understanding. (he really has been sweet) I don’t want to drive him away by being whiny or needy, or by pushing him away in an effort to “spare” him from what I’m going through. I probably don’t act as crazy as I feel anyway. I’m hoping for a happy medium and good communication.

In any event, they’re doing some non-invasive heart testing (radioactive isotope & a scanner/camera) and then I believe are going to put a catheter down her leg to look for deep vein thrombosis or other occlusions.

So it’s still sit and wait and not know what’s going on and if/when I’ll have to rush down there with my mom.

I’m still not sure what’s up with the icky boy for the weekend (stressed out crazy woman is sure that she’s pushed him away or he’ll run away, because I’ve never been with a man I could trust to be there for me; why should now be any different?)

So I’m going to go exercise.

and I’m going to try to catch up on work on Saturday.

and I’m going to try to think good positive thoughts that I have actually chosen a healthy relationship with a good person for once in my life.

and I’m going to try not to cry.

~L

Mood: Meh