Phonies, dead guys, and stuff.

My goal for this morning is to get the house cleaned while on the phone with Florida. I figure it will take me at least three rooms of dusting and sweeping to get the bank to agree to close Mom's last account. They are holding a hostage I'm willing to slay. $4.45. Yup, for $4.45 they will not close my Mother's account and I don't want the damn money. It would cost me more to send certified copies of the death certificate to them. Today we will do the word dance that seems to be banker foreplay.

My version may have additional words, that went unsaid, added to tell the real story.

Me: Hi I'd like to close Shirley McMyMom's account because she has passed away. 

Them: We are sorry for your loss. Can you verify the death?

Me: You're not sorry. Yes I can. 

Them: Oh you're still there? <whispers to coworker "I got  live one here" they cackle> 

Them: Is there a balance on the account?

Me: Yes, you blood sucking ...I mean yes there is. 

Them: <I'll teach this one to sass me> Can you verify the balance please?

Me: yes I can.

Them: well?? 

Me: you asked if I can, I can. You didn't ask me to do it. Sheesh. Way to go public school edumacation. 

Me: since you said please... it's four, count them one-two-three-four dollars and forty-frikkin-five stinking cents.

Me: And I do not want it.

Them: <to coworker> this will piss her off cackle cackle ... 

Them: Ma'am. Ma'am that money is legally owed to the estate. 

Me: You keep it, buy yourself a new outfit. 

Them: it is so on now MA'AM!

Them: WE cannot release this money without proper paperwork. You need xxx and vvv and ooo and we will require notarization <picks nails and smirks> and it will need to be sent registered mail. 

Me: BUT I DO NOT WANT IT, just close the account paaaleazzzzeeeee.

Them: Ma'am, we cannot close an account with an active balance. 

Me: thinking it's time to try a new approach. 

Me: With the fees you take out this account will overdraw on September the first. Then it will be an overdraw fee which will not be paid. Then that will add up, some genius in your legal dept. will get himself a stiffy for the money owed, he will sue my dead Mother and when it goes to court I will show up and point out that you cannot get blood from a rock, or from a box of ashes that hangs out in my hall next to Dad and a stuffed lamb. The judge will  ask your legal eagle why this dead thing wasn't noticed before now and he will slink back to the office. Dead Mom win!

Me: or... you could close the damn account. BECAUSE SHE'S DEAD

Them: Ma'am, we cannot close an account with an active balance. WE cannot release this money without proper paperwork. Ma'am, you need xxx and vvv and ooo and we will require notarization <picks nails and smirks> and it will need to be sent registered mail. 

Them: Ma'am

Game. Set. Match.

Reeling, feeling, dealing, and hopefully someday even keeling.

My Mother passed away a week ago. Her last two days were quiet ones and she wasn't in that  state of  mental torment anymore. She hung on as long as she could. She is, was a tough old bird. But it was time and she had fought long enough. My brother and I spent most of her last week with her, talking, laughing, me singing songs I knew she loved and a few I knew she didn't just to see if there was any Shirley left in her. Thursday we thought we'd said our goodbyes but Shirley wasn't ready. Friday we cried with the weekday staff because we knew she'd be gone by the time they got back from the weekend. Saturday we were at peace with it and we told her we loved her and told her it was okay to let go, that her
mom and our Dad were waiting. At 10:30 pm on May 17th my Mother let go. It was her time, her turmoil was over. I froze when my phone rang at 10:55 pm that night, I knew who it was. I said "oh shit no" and answered it. It was her time, she was gone. I'm reeling still, a little lost. A little confused by the love I developed for her these past three years. I'm feeling it still, sadness, confusion, loss. I'm dealing with paperwork, cremation, phone calls, memorial plans, burial. And someday I will be back on my even keel. I hope. My Mother really wasn't much of a Mother to me but she was my Mom and recognizing who she was and what made her how she was gave me insight into myself and I love her. My Mom is dead now, I will miss her.

I am going to continue this blog. I will talk of my childhood, my life with and without Mom, and I will hopefully come to grips with this loss I feel right now. Shirley was a strong woman, a brave woman, a wounded woman, and a woman I am lucky to have loved.

emotional weight lifting

I'm not as strong as people think I am. I just fake it really well. Outside I'm calm and in control but inside I'm a Jello salad similar to the ones Mom used to torture us with. I wobble and shake but I can still hold the things that need holding.
I had a snow day yesterday, pretty much everyone in our area did. I won't lie, it was nice. I rambled around in my pjs, watched a couple movies, chatted up an old friend or two on the phone and skype. I did things that had nothing to do with Mom. She was in my head, she's been in my head my whole life. I just didn't focus on her because she's in my waking hours and in my sleep.

I am not ashamed of being weak, I don't know why I hide it. I hide it from Mom because somehow I've become the go-to person for our family. We're not a large family anymore. Just Mom, my brother, my kids, and myself. My kids are grown and off into the world, as it should be but my brother is a stranger now. When we lose Mom I will lose him. We'll talk once a year but the gap is there and he's the one who put it there. If I'm the go-to girl, he's the fall-apart fellow. When something needs doing, I do it. When a doctor needs speaking to, I do it. When there's a crisis, who you gonna call? me. He can't handle it and he's not able to face it. But like the old Smothers brothers routine... Mom loves him best.
It used to bother me badly but now I think I prefer it this way. I've stopped trying to get parental approval that will never come. I am proud of who I am, in spite of the mistakes I've made. In our family tree my brother was the branch they hung the star on but that branch can only hold a thin and fragile star and my branch bears the weight of many objects. My branch is hidden beneath those objects and isn't pretty and straight but his branch breaks easily and is just for looking at. He's the family show pony but I'm the jackass who carries all the burdens. Now there's a mental image to amuse us all.
I'd rather be me than be him. When life gets difficult, and it always does, he quickly buries his head in the sand and pretends things aren't so bad. I don't want to live that way because when you bury your head in the sand to avoid the big issues you miss out on those small happy things that buffer the bad. So I get the doctors, the bad news, and the paperwork and he gets Saturdays and Sundays to be there for an hour and be Mom's hero. I think I'd rather be me, childhood and all.

At the point when my parents neighbor summoned me to Florida, I had risen above my childhood and turned my back on my parents. It took me so many years to forget but I hadn't forgiven. After I got sucked back into the family disfunction I had to face those memories and forgive my parents. I had to accept and understand that I could not change the past, I could only change my own future. My brother, a child raised in the same house as I was, didn't get the same parents I did. His scars were so much lighter and less deep than my own but his are still with him and mine have faded into the past they belong in. You would have thought that the golden child would have grown into an adult with both feet on the ground and I would be a psychological mess but it's the opposite. We're both weak, we both cry, we're both soft in the middle but his is his lifestyle now. I am weak, I do cry, I accept that about myself. I just allow myself that time and move along with my life, he wallows.

Another lady I adore passed away yesterday. When I go up today I'll see the name tag missing from the door and I'll cry. I'll be sad because these elderly people, and the heroes who tend to them, are dear to me and I mourn the loss of each one. I'll have my few moments and not be ashamed and then I'll pull myself together and do what needs doing. I am strong but I am weak, weaker than people think.

Driving Ms Shirley

Today was a big day in the life of Mom. A trip outside the nursing home walls. A trip approximately a mile away. So why did I over-think it and get up early to make sure I had everything ready? For the same reason you pack a suitcase to take a toddler to the park. If you think you don't need it, you will. If you forgot it, you'll regret it. Rain hat...check, extra coat...check, kleenex...check, ginger ale...check, package of cookies...check.
See, Mom has, well had..a growth on her thumb. We didn't know what it was but it was icky and hurt her and grew and grew. After a mishap last month where it was partially torn off and bled like a geyser then promptly grew back, the doctor and I decided the best thing would be for her to see a dermatologist. And today was the day. After an early lunch and early meds the nice gentleman arrived to take us in the medi-van. We hooked her in and off we went. Mom was not happy and didn't really enjoy the whole three minute ride.
 It's hard to take her out because she's afraid of riding in vehicles, she can't see so the motion makes  her queasy and because she doesn't look out the windows she doesn't understand where she is. But we got there, her complaining and making dry eyed crying noises.
Then they gave me forms to fill in. Medical history and details. Any cancers, yes. Any surgeries, too many to list. Any medication allergies, yup. I gave up halfway down the last sheet. I had to, I had started to giggle and was concerned I'd be laughing so hard I'd start tears flowing. Why? I ame to this question:

is the patient pregnant or planning to become pregnant?

Even now I'm snickering. I wanted to answer "no but who knows what can happen". I didn't. I wanted to answer "she's eighty frikkin nine years old, chances of being with child are mighty slim". I didn't. I wanted to write "if she is you'd better look for the three wise men and a handful of camels" but I didn't.
Not everyone has my sense of humor. Especially Mom. Filling out forms is not a participation sport for Shirley. Every question I asked her she couldn't answer and it was making us both sad especially when I asked her "Mom, when was your mastectomy (or boobage removal procedure) and she said "ask Tia, Tia knows". Tia didn't know but Tia had had enough. So Tia handed back the forms and fed her a graham cracker and ginger-ale. And Tia hates people who talk in the third person so Tia will stop.

Fast forward to today, the day after. Mom's thumb doohickey was removed, we waited 45 minutes for the less than 5 minute ride back. I met a lovely lady in the waiting room and we had a nice chat about dogs and the elderly. Mom had a possible pyogenic granuloma on her thumb. That's fancy talk for what the dr thinks, pending the biopsy, was a blood blister that overgrew to heal itself. The Dr. removed it with a scapel and a laser and Mom did great. I was thrown back in time to when the boys were young and I'd be more nervous than they were when they were hurt or ill. Other than the injection for the numbing meds, Mom sat quietly and from time to time asked me where we were and would we miss the cake. I would tell her and ask her if she wanted some of the cake and she'd say no but she knew she'd miss it.

It's scary when my youngest child is my oldest family member. Now we will wait for the biopsy results but when they said we could discuss treatments if the results showed cancer I kept thinking "no we won't". We wouldn't treat it, we couldn't. Just as we cannot treat or diagnose the mass in her colon. We can just keep her comfy and hope for the best, whatever that is.

This post has no conclusion or drawn up lesson on life. It was just a day in my life with Mom. Her pain, her fears, and her boo boo. It isn't always funny and it isn't always meaningful. Sometimes it's just a break in the every day routine and arriving back to her room safe and as sound as she can be. Today will be a new day and at the end of it I'll arrive home safe and sound to my own life. Wondering what the best part of the day with Mom was. Yesterday it was twofold, her thumb is repairs and........ hey, she's not pregnant.