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8/17/09

It Just Might Be Okay

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Went over to see Mom and take her to lunch at the terrible K&W Cafeteria, which she LOVES. Everything is horribly overcooked and over salted, but it's her party, so that's where we go.
She was sitting outside with a couple that she's friends with when I got there and even though I had to remove Mookie's crate, she was okay! This made me happy.

Told her Mookie was being fostered by the vet, Kay (God love her, she is a saint - the same vet that fostered and found a home for Mom's diabetic cat Mr. Brown), and she was totally good with it. No crying or anything. I do think it's a relief to her on some level. She did want to see him and we talked about it perhaps being hard to see him go off again, but left it open.

Then she said she wanted a kitten. I do not see that happening. Maybe an older cat. But there's the litter box to deal with. I'm thinking about taking Finn over there, he might be up for that sort of outing. Need to get a new harness, as I'm fairly sure he's "outgrown" the one I have. He is a little round weebil of a cat.

L. was out in the lobby being all cheery and friendly. Ignored her when she spoke to us as we were leaving. Oh, I know - so grown up of me. (That's my M.O. - shut down all contact.) When I left after dropping Mom off she asked how I was and I said I couldn't talk to her, I was still very upset.

8/8/09

A really, really crappy day

Friday, August 7, 2009

Daphne and I have been switching off taking every other Friday off, yesterday was mine. I take some Trader Joe's stuff, Pepsi, and cigarettes (why can't she forget that she smokes???!) over to Mom, so we aren't leaving Mookie in the room alone.

I ask if she remembers talking with L. about Mookie, she says no. So, for Pete's sake, I have to tell her again and tell her about Boston Rescue and that he's on the list. She starts crying.
She's worried Mookie won't remember her. Can he come visit? I'm not sure, depends on the person who adopts him and where they live. She doesn't want to go get something to eat because she's been crying. So I head over to the cafeteria to get her lunch to go.

On my way out, I stop by to see L. and update her on the progress.
She says, "Oh you misunderstood, I didn't want to be mean, I thought you'd realize I meant 48 hours." "He needs to leave today. He can't live here anymore." "I'm getting complaints from staff and residents." (The staff is complaining too?! That's new.)

Now how on God's green earth am I supposed to "pick-up" that she meant 48 hours when she didn't SAY that? Dammit - my mind reader's license just expired! Silly me.

Then she has the nerve to ask how I was doing, because she's "often more worried about the family than the residents." "You need to take care of yourself first." And then touches me on the shoulder. Do. Not. Touch. Me. Yesterday I was shell-shocked, now I'm PISSED.

I bring back lunch for Mom and let her eat before I have to tell her - surprise her - that Mookie has to leave now. I feel set-up. The fucking bad guy - AGAIN.

In the meantime, EBF calls. He must have asked if I was there, because Mom whispered really loud, "She's here now." It's so funny on some level.
When I asked if that was Tom (EBF's real name revealed!), she said, "Oh I don't know who the heck that was."
So, you in the habit of telling people you don't know on the phone that you love them? Interesting. "How's his wife doing?" I ask. "Okay I guess", she replies. Good grief.

Mom's told me several times that I don't like men (oh really?) and I wonder if he's told her that and she's repeating it. Or, because of her dementia, me not liking HIM equals not liking all men. She's right though, I DON'T like dickhead jerks who take advantage of/use women, one of whom is my mother.

Out of the blue ten minutes later, she tells me to mind my own business and that I can go now.
And then I have to say that Mookie has to come with me.

She thinks he's going to Boston Rescue and I'm going to let her think that for now. She goes back and forth between wanting to help carry stuff out (no) and crying. The staff knows that this is happening and are ready to pay special attention to her. I get everything (but the crate) out and get Mookie, who is just as excited as he can be because the word "go" was used. (Car ride - my favorite!) He doesn't even pay attention to her as we walk by. L. is telling Mom he can come visit - shut up! you don't know that! Pisses me off.

I sit in the car and cry for 20 minutes. I can't take him home. I don't want to. Call the vet, they're full up, but they recommend another place in CH. She says she's full, but is getting ready to make calls to confirm reservations. I tell her the sad story, it turns out she has two Bostons herself and she finds a spot for him at least until Monday. She'll make some calls to people she knows who foster dogs too. Poor Mookie. I go home and cry another hour.

I'm depressed about my family. Do they not call or respond to emails because they think I'm so strong that I don't need emotional support? Is it a compliment? Is it truly out of sight, out of mind? This is their mother too. What has happened to us?
My father is rolling over in his grave. He'd smack us all into the middle of next week if he were here.

Mookie has to go.

Monday, August 3, 2009

I get a call at work from the administrator over at Wynwood. She tells me Mookie needs to find a new home, getting complaints from residents and it's just not working out.

Do I want to come over when she has the talk with Mom? Not particularly. I've had this talk with Mom several times and am not anxious to repeat it. She already thinks I'm the bad guy. She says ok and she'll call back after they chat.

While waiting, I look up Boston Terrier Rescue on line and there's one in NC. I'm in the middle of typing the email to them when L. calls back.

She reports that Mom seemed resigned and agreed with her that Mookie was barking and it wasn't fair to the other residents, yada yada yada.
At NO POINT was any mention made of a time frame. I told her I was writing BT Rescue at that very moment and she asked me to keep her updated.
Again - there was no "the-dog-has-48-hours" or "you-have-until-Wednesday" discussion. She did say that once broached it's better to deal with it quickly. Sure, like pulling off a bandade, and I'm in agreement with that.

Rest of week spent emailing, phone tagging BT Rescue. Called the vet; sent Mookie's info to the shelter, just in case there's a softie on staff; and to Tailless Cat Rescue, because she knows people. Anyone I can think of.
The vet's on vacation until Monday, Aug. 10, but she wants to talk about it. She got Mr. Brown adopted; thinking a diabetic cat who hates other cats is much harder to adopt, so she's a miracle worker in my book.

The EBF returns

Saturday, August 1, 2009

After we get back from lunch, Mom takes Mookie out while I clean out the crate (he'd peed in there.). Her phone rings and I answer it.

EBF: "Hi."
Me: "Hi."

EBF: "What are you doing?"
Me: "Nothing."

EBF: "Nothing going on?"
Me: "Nope."

Slight pause as it dawns on him that I'm not who he thinks I am...

EBF: "Who is this?"
Me: "Kim. Who's this?" (knowing full well who it is)

Another slight pause...

EBF: "Bob."
Me: "Bob! Bob Dalum?" (Mom's friend/neighbor from CA)
EBF: "Yes"...then click of phone hanging up.

What a lying A-Hole.

Help is on the way?

Way, way back in May 2008, Daphne and I went to check out Carolina House, which is an assisted living place in Chapel Hill. Rooms were very small and it was expensive. But the marketing director, Geri I think, was wonderful and gave me a number for a non-profit group who helps get additional benefits from the VA.
I schlepped that paper around for months and finally called only to find out they help if you are in certain facilities and Mom wasn't in one of them. The woman I spoke to was very kind and gave me websites and form numbers I needed to apply for the benefits [for Mom] myself.
So I bravely entered the crazy mixed up minefield - I mean, world that is the government, downloaded the forms, get stuck on question 19: "What is your SSN?" (Who's SSN?! Mine? Dad's? Mom's?), get overwhelmed and put them away. There was a lot of stuff going on then. But I felt guilty because she could get up to $1000 a month in additional benefits. That would be a HUGE help. Kay made a few calls in Dec. when she was here, but the forms that person told her to use were different than the other forms the first person said to use. I was confused - and so continued to do nothing.
But - when she moved into Wynwood, she was eligible to use the free service provided by "A Place For Mom". http://www.aplaceformom.com/
Weird name, but they are awesome. They actually fill out the paperwork for you, help you gather all the supporting documents such as marriage, death certs, discharge papers and various others. Things that prove that he/she actually was a veteran and you are a surviving spouse of said veteran.
Thankfully my parents were pretty good keepers of all that stuff - except the one form (DD-214) I really needed wasn't an original (his final discharge/retirement).
All the other DD-214's were original - except that one! That needed to be ordered, had to wait for it to arrive via the USPS.
Then everything needs to be put together and shipped off to the VA, which I did on 5/28. Still waiting to hear.
To their credit, the VA has sent two letters, one saying they received the application and another one recently saying they were still doing whatever voodoo they do and to please be patient.
Fingers crossed! Pink Light!