I’m off the hook March 20, 2008

Not in a funny or crazy kind of way, but in a relieving way.  My mom called me yesterday and told me I don’t have to play messenger anymore, and that she’s given the job to Genie and Marge.  It’s not fair to put your daughter in the middle of a feud with your sister in law.  Even though I’m off the hook, it doesn’t mean I’m free of being barked at about how my Aunt Ginger is, “calling the social worker,” and “paging the doctors,” and “calling everybody.” I told her I didn’t want to hear about it because I don’t think there is anything wrong with that. Yeah, of course she’s calling, she wants to find out about her brother! “Well, isn’t having Genie and Marge telling her the news enough?” “No, maybe not for her. Look, you need to accept opinions that are different from your own rather than fuming about them.” The whole time I was completley calm too, but she kept yelling at me like I had done something wrong. Then she hung up on me, like always.

…

My dad has moved from the rehab center back to the hospital again so he can be put on a feeding tube. He’s been on that for one day and already there is an improvement in his motivation, alertness and talkativness.

March 14, 2008

“Jenny are you writing this all down?”       “No, I’ve got it in my head…”      ”YOU NEED to be WRITING this DOWNNNN!!! I do NOT want Ginger to call the nurses station, or talk to any of the doctors. This is MY business. I am the WIFE! She can call and talk to dad, but thats it!”       “Well, she’s been talking to Carl…”     WHAT?! She is NOT to talk to Bill’s friends. She told you this?! I’m calling Carl right now…  Click…….      ”She’s lied to you. She only talked to him at the hospital. She never called him…”      ”Well, you hung up to fast for me to get a word in, I wasn’t sure if she meant she had been talking to him, or she will call him in the future to find out information.”     “Well that’s not what you said. NOw, are you writing this down? There is a lot. MRI….(blah blah blah ) Doctors (blah blah blah) UCLA (blah blah blah) Bill said he doesn’t want to talk to Ginger.”         “Really?”       “Yes.”      ”I can’t imagine him not wanting to talk to her.”    ”Hey, Jenny, YOU KNOW WHAT?! I will call you ONCE A WEEK from now on to fill you in, OK?! She is a manipulative bitch, and if you’re going to take sides then fine. I’m taking my shower and I’m going to bed. GOODBYE!”-8:30pm            …6:30am-   “Jenny….I’m sorry for blowing up at you like that.  I’m just an old angry woman.  If you want to support her, then fine.  You’ve never supported me.  Even back in your 8th grade year when Carie Williams wrote, “Your Mom’s a bitch.”  in your yearbook.  You see this thing through her eyes, then thats fine.  I should never have gotten angry at you.  From now on, when I call don’t answer it, I will just leave a message for you..”     “Mom, if you call I’m going to answer it.”     “I don’t want to get angry or upset, so this is the only way.  If you’re going to support her, then this is the way it has to be..”                   “Mom, I’m not ’supporting’ anyone but Dad.  He is the most important thing right now, and excuse my language, but im not interested in any of this petty shit.  The only thing I care about right now, is that Dad gets better.”         “Well, good.  That’s what we all should feel.  I will call you later with the results of last nights MRI later today Ok?  Ok.  I’ve got to go now, I love you.          ”I love you too.” 

March 13, 2008

My mom called me at work today and just started yelling at me about Aunt Ginger. It was so much, and non-stop I just kinda shut myself off from listening- just had the phone to my ear, but my hand was working away at the computer. I think she was mad about some message my Aunt Ginger had left. My mom said she had purposely had the doctor talking in the background about how the MRI wasn’t signed for yet. My mom thinks Aunt Ginger is trying to make her feel she can’t properly take care of dad, or do the business that has to be done around the hospital efficiently because she is at work all day. My mom said she doesn’t want Aunt Ginger to call the hospital to find out about dad anymore. I told her, “But she is Dad’s sister.” And after that comment, she blew up at me and thought that I was choosing sides or something, I completely wasn’t, I just said it because I felt it. I know now, that I can’t say anything in this matter, and have to stay completely neutral milk hotel because I will get shot down. My mom said that there are only 2 names on the list of people that can call and ask questions, find out stuff etc.: My mom, and Barbara. Barbara is not even a family member. This boggles my mind. I don’t like being in the middle of this and relaying messages back and forth.

It makes me angry that my mom is being so petty and complaining about stuff all the time, and causing fights with family, when the most important thing right now is Dad and his well-being. Also, she’s been telling him all this stuff, and he really doesn’t need to know. All he needs to know is that family is there for him when he needs it; loving him and supporting him.

kill the messenger… March 12, 2008

At least that’s what it feels like. The day Aunt Ginger and Gem left, my mom brought up the event of us rearranging the furniture out of nowhere, a week after the incident and first thing in the morning and started yelling at them. My mom lied to them and said I had said that it was Ginger’s idea to move the furniture around, when I had clearly told her it was mine. When I confronted her about her lying, she said she did it to rile Gem up and get her angry at her mom. That didn’t work, and just ended my with Gem calling my mom “rude.” And she was.

Later that morning, I went to do a load of laundry and noticed the knob to change the water temperature was missing. I asked my mom what happened to it, and she blew up at me: “I TOLD YOU! You are NOT to change the temperature! I KNEW were going to do it, so I took it off!” Whoa….someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

My Aunt and Gem made it back to Virgina safe. Ginger had called the hospital to check up on my dad, just so happened this was before my mom got a chance to call, and when my mom called the hospital they told her they had already let Ginger know what’s up. My mom was pissed that Ginger called before her, and told the woman at the hospital that from now on any news should be told to her first.

Ginger has been bugging my mom that she should take some time off to be with my dad more, that right now, he needs all the support he can get, and that seeing him only in the evenings is not enough and he’ll get depressed. She also says that I should quit my job to be with him as well, but as much as I would love to be there all the time, I don’t think me quitting my job is something my dad would appreciate me doing. Then the killer- Ginger said to my mom, “You love your job more than Bill!” This was rude. And that pissed her off to no end. So, I have become the messenger. Any information about my dad is relayed to Aunt Ginger, and anything she says is then relayed back to my mom.

Why is my family crazy?

truly awful. March 12, 2008

My dad at the hospital has been given at little remote so he can push a button any time he needs something, i.e. number 2, water, etc….He is not strong enough to push the buttons, so he was given this square button thing, that is ultra sensitive, and sometimes goes off, actually it goes off a lot, by accident. The nurses are required to answer to it, in case of an emergency, but most of the time it looks like we’re crying wolf. So, one day, we’re sitting there pushing the button for 5 minutes before someone answered it, and it was an emergency, number 2. The nurses come in and my dad starts screaming, “I need an enema!” The nurses took his word for it, and since enemas are a longer process, and require a doctor, they just started working on cleaning the sheets from under him. My dad kept screaming …and finally we realized he meant, “bed pan.” No mess that time, but there have been occasions where nobody comes to help him and he goes in the bed.

It’s truly awful.

Whoopsie daisey… March 5, 2008

Last night, we all left the hospital around 8pm.  No one had eaten dinner yet, so I thought it’d be nice if we all went out to eat, and we could talk or whatever… Everyone wanted to go but my mom.  So, she went home and went to bed, and Ginger, Gem and I went to get something really quick.  We ended up going to La Salsa.  Yuck.  Really mediocre burrito, but whatever.  We got home, and we were just sitting around talking about the layout of the furniture and how it made no sense, nor was conducive to conversation or practicality.  So, we thought we would do something nice for my mom; that went she woke up everything would be organized and cleaned and rearranged.  I knew she would kind of get upset about this, so I didn’t do anything drastic, just moved a couple chair that we always move around when there is company, and switched a rug from vertical to horizontal.  When it was done, it was a world of a difference. Soo much better, and practical, and warm and inviting, and the way we had it you could actually have a conversation with someone while looking at them.  Before, all the chairs, 4 of them, were in a row. In a line.  It looked like something thrown there that wasnt temporary.   In the morning, I woke up to screaming.  Screaming like you wouldn’t believe.  Like on the verge of tears.  ”This is a slap in the face to us!” “We don’t like the table of there!” I like this here, and that over there!!”  ”How could you be so presumptuous to think this is better than what we had!”  ”If this is what you are going to do, I don’t ever want you over here again!”  ”Was this your idea?”  ”Was it HER idea?”  ”She must have helped you, you couldn’t have done this all yourself!” “Why would you do this?!”   I knew she would freak out, but I didnt think it would be to that degree, nor in front of Ginger.  I was planning on moving everything back the way it was if she didn’t like it, but she beat me to it.  2 hours of moving and planning and thinking things out for the better was eradicated in 10 minutes.  My mom is a machine of routine.   

even about the little things… March 2, 2008

A little while ago, my mom was doing the dishes, and asked Ginger if she uses ‘SOS’ pads. She said, no. Then Gem said, “Oh, like, Brillo pads?” My mom says, “No, SOS pads.” (in a really condescending tone). In stereo, Ginger, Gem and I said, “What’s the difference?” My mom said, “Well, it’s like Kleenex and tissue.”

it’s just getting weird, tense and awkward here.

rehab center- most depressing place on earth. March 2, 2008

Things are tense here. 4 women with different views and outlooks on life, there is the immanent battle between positive energy and the negative. No, this isn’t The View, it’s my home. My Mom is outright, blanently rude. Tells my Aunt her hair looks like a wig, corrects her like one of her third graders and pokes fun of her religious views. My Aunt and I had a discussion about it, and she has noticed that my Mom does the same thing to me; talks down to me treats me like one of her third graders rather than letting me grow up and be a 29 year old. (Well, soon to be). She’s defensive about everything and a ‘control freak.’ There was an incident with the doors last night. My Aunt likes to lock the doors at night- I don’t know, seems like a pretty normal thing to want to do, (especially considering there was a robbery here a while back). My mom argued with her about it, and kept saying, “This is MY house, and I don’t ever do that!” One of the locks happened to be broken, so my Aunt had placed the poker stick in the groove so that the door couldn’t open. In the morning, my Mom hadn’t seen that that was there, tried to open the door, realized what was there, and blew up at Ginger again. There was a big scene at the hospital brought on by her. Me and Aunt Ginger were putitng lotion on my Dad’s hands so that the puddy wouldn’t stick to them. Let me explain- My Dad’s hands need to build up their strength again. The hospital gave him some puddy to play with, but when he squeezes it, he isn’t strong enough to open his hand back up, and the puddy sticks. My Dad had a bandaid on his hand that had been there for quite a while, I looked to see if it was healed underneath it, and it was- completely. So I started to take it off and my Mom blew up and started screaming at me. Loudly, to where everyone kinda shut up and was shocked that such a small thing like me pulling off a bandaid would cause such a fuss. She told me not to, but I just went ahead and ripped it off. She started screaming at me more and said that I “always have to disagree with her” and that I “never listen.” My Aunt had patted her on the head to calm her down, and my Mom says, “Don’t pat me on the head like I’m a dog!!!” My cousin and I looked at each other bewildered.

I have talked about this before, but there are things my mom has said to me in the past that are just awful. I have, as of yesterday, learned to ignore this, realize that I am not the problem and there is nothing wrong with me and nothing wrong with the way I live my life or the way I look or dress and to bite my tongue when I want to say something. Seeing that my Aunt could witness the way she is first hand reinforced my perspective on things.

Bengal, Schmengal…. February 29, 2008

I just ate at one of the many incredibly delicious restaurants within walking distance from my apartment- Aladdin (the Bengalese restaurant). I love this restaurant for its delicious tea, samosas and fried rice with tender chicken curry on top. It’s served on the bone, which I don’t really like, but this is OK because its so tender and delicious it just falls off the bone. Bone.

I went there for lunch today and the food was, as usual, delicious. But the service was like a room full of retards trying to figure out what to do with themselves. First, I order my food and the woman asks me if I want the tea now, or later when my food comes. I told her later. I go to sit down in the next room, and there are 2 TVs BLASTING on full volume some old black and white bengalese/Indian movie. The movie looked really cool, but with the volume so high you can’t hear it, and to the point that it might cause injury to your ear drums, it wasn’t too enjoyable. I turned down the TVs and sat back down. My food came, and I didn’t realize until 5 minutes later, ‘ Hey, where’s my tea?’ The woman there walked past my table and I asked her for the tea, and it was as if, she didn’t even realize she had forgotten it. Like, I was ordering it for the first time right there. No apology or concern. When the tea came I realized I actually wanted a glass of water as well. But, since I knew that asking for a cup would probably be too big of a task for her to handle, I let it go. I sit back, enjoy my food, and enjoy looking at the movie playing, even though I don’t understand it- it was visually indulging. Then I see the volume meter suddenly go down even further! What? I just moved it down to a comfortable volume, and now, someone is moving it down even further…? I know it shouldn’t matter; hearing a movie that you don’t understand the language, but I still like being able to hear it. Now, it’s at an uncomfortable volume. I decide, I’m full and want to take the rest home. I walk into the other room to ask for a box, but no one is in there. I yell, “Hello!” A man walked into the room and I asked him for a box. He stared at me, didn’t say anything and then walked away. HUm. Ok. Umm…… Then the woman came to help me, I asked her, and she gave me a box. I go to pay with my debit card and she says, ” You don’t have cash?” I said, “You don’t take debit?” She then takes debit and then swipes my card. Huh? What does it matter to you what form I pay in?

Anyway- I know I am just being a baby, and these things are not that bad that I should complain. But isn’t it just so much fun to do so? I didn’t go to work today because I was planning on picking up my Aunt Ginger and cousin Gem from the airport. Just as I was about to leave at 11:30, I get a call from them saying they are delayed in Chicago due to snow. So, now instead of arriving at 2, they will be here at 5:30. I probably could’ve gone into work today if I had known that. But I got other things done today: went to the DMV (for the last time) to officially change my address so I can finally have a California ID in my hands and not look like either a tourist or a minor with an illegal ID. Also, I got my car washed and vacuumed. It’s beautiful and smells delicious!