I'll Tumble For Ya
I got to the hospital and things between my sister and I were cordial. She was definitely hyper emotional, but still not much different than her usual, toxic, narcissistic self. She wasn't in the room yet where they finally moved my mom in the ICU. I am sure this bugged her, not being able to go in there like the bombastic, self-aggrandizing, bulldyke (though straight), "strong" woman and take command of the situation.
When the nurse, a young girl who had to have been in her early thirties, was talking about how they needed to monitor things for the next 24 hours, my sister chimed in, "But, that means if everything is okay then she gets to go home tomorrow... right.... RIGHT?". The nurse very calmly replied that no, she would in fact have to stay until at least Monday.
My mother is barely able to hear any of this. I guess when she fell, which she still doesn't remember how, her left hearing aid punctured her ear drum. So she was not wearing either hearing aid in the bed, and could now only hear out of one ear. The entire time my mother looked annoyed and obstinate that she was even in the hospital in the first place.
Rewinding to how this day all started. I guess my sister, who is playing go-between between my mother and the vet, was only able to get an 8:45 appointment with the vet to have Bailey checked out for his swollen foot this morning. So my mother went into work overnight early and had raced home at 7 AM in order to let the dog out and feed them before having to go with my sister to the vet.
As I am hearing the story, I am understanding between the lines that once again this was an entirely preventable thing, but my mother is not intelligent and gets worked up into useless panics over everything. So she was likely racing to get the dog out, who can barely walk. The bits she recounted involved her being so upset because it was cold out and the dog kept sitting on the patio after he peed and would not go in the house.
Now this dog is 250 pounds of fat. If he sat on the patio in the 19 degree weather this morning, it would not have effected him. He was grossly overweight and likely quite warm. But my mom was no doubt in PANIC PANIC PANIC mode. So whatever happened, happened then. She fell on the left side of her head on the patio. There was some blood on the patio, as well as a ton inside the hoodie she was wearing, which I have to guess helped cushion the impact ever-so slightly.
When my sister came in the house, my mother and the dog were both inside. My mother was sitting at the kitchen table in a seeming daze. Blood coming out of her ear and some blood on her head. Bloody paper towels on the table. She was apparently disoriented and didn't exactly know what happened. It was then that my sister found the blood spot and my mom's keys on the patio. She likely still had them in her hand because she was in her PANIC PANIC PANIC mad rush to get the dog outside to pee.
This is where the story gets really good. Instead of cancelling the vet appointment and IMMEDIATELY GOING TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM, they got in my sister's truck with the dog and went to the vet anyway. And apparently on the car ride over, my mother forgot where they were even going.
They get to the vet, come to discover the tens of thousands of dollar steel rods they had put in the dogs rear legs because of the torn tendons earlier this year were the problem. I guess the bone was growing back over the rod and causing issues and they were likely going to have to amputate the back right leg, followed by weeks and weeks of physical therapy for the dog. They opted to put the dog to sleep right then and there.
I guess also, when my mother was blowing her nose while bawling her eyes out there, her nose started bleeding excessively and only THEN did my sister suggest they go to the ER. I got to hear the story twice from my sister and then my mother about how it was so sad even the vet was crying his eyes out.
After waiting two hours in the ER and all the scans and tests before I got there (she fell at 7:45 or so and my sister first called me at 10:30 that they were going to the ER), it turned out she had a punctured ear drum, as previously mentioned, AND she fracture the skull bone along her left temple.
How can I be expected to feel anything or take any of this seriously when the priority for these two broads was to go to the vet FIRST and not the ER.
Something else interesting happened right before we went in the room, which involves some minor backstory. A few years back my mom got rid of her cheap, useless flip phone she barely knew how to use and got an iPhone. In these following years she has staunchly and adamantly refused to learn how to use the thing properly. She barely knows how to make a call and only recently learned how to use it to take pictures. She doesn't even understand how to send text messages, and when she attempts to text me, she ends up texting me to my email every time.
None of that is really relevant except for me to express that she is a luddite and almost seems proud to refuse to understand how the phone works. As if it is a badge of honor.
Well, a few months back she was no longer able to get the charger cable to plug into the bottom. I've had that happen many times, and usually it's pocket lint or something in there. I use a wooden toothpick to go in there and dig the offending bits out. I suggested she do that, but to no avail, so I showed her on Amazon what she needed to order so she could charge her phone with a pad instead of a plug. Negating the need to plug it in. She seemingly was able to get this working, somehow by some miracle, once receiving the new charger.
When I was there Tuesday, after all the light decorating, she brings her phone to me to complain about the plug not working. Which is a moot point, since the pad charger does what she needs it to do and she seemingly understands how to use that. But, I look at the phone anyway and it is very, very clear that there is something major inside the adapter hole and the plug does not even go halfway in without stopping. I shine a light in there, I try a toothpick as well, but to no avail. It's almost as if something is either broken OR something is jammed in there so hard it's not coming out.
It doesn't matter what it is, I cannot fix it. Nor is it my job to do so. She knows where the AT&T store is if it is such a concern. She is fully capable of going there. Though she doesn't need to because she has the pad charger.
Fast forward to the ICU waiting room. The nurse comes in to bring us to the room and as she's walking us down the hall she is telling us a a little about the few conversations she had with my mom as they were apparently bathing her and getting her situated. The nurse turns to me and says, "She was telling me about her phone and how you broke it"...
I was like, "Interesting, I didn't break her phone".
And she was like, "Oh, she was going on about how the plug wasn't working and you did something to it and it wasn't charging since then and such... maybe I misunderstood what she meant".
It's like here we go again. She has no understanding of how any of the technology works, but she's complaining to some stranger that *I* broke her phone, when I did nothing of the sort. It's just another part of this whole toxicity I was bitching about before. I am apparently expected to fix everything, nothing I say is believed and basically, because she is too stupid to know how to use an iPhone or a charging pad, it somehow means *I* broke it.
Imagine how much more annoying it was when later, when my sister stopped at her house to do a few things and pick up her other mongrel dog, she discovers that the phone was dead and not charging BECAUSE THE CHARGING PAD WAS NOT PLUGGED INTO THE WALL!!!!!
I swear to god, I feel like I am just being gaslit non-stop, anytime I have to deal with either of these two idiots.
My sister left at 5:00, after sticking around to see what the hourly cognitive test was they are going to be giving my mom all night. My mom, fawning over her telling her, "Please go home, you've been here ALL day. Go let your dogs out". I am surprised my mom didn't get on her knees right there on the hospital floor and start kissing my sister's feet.
Even though visiting hours were over at 8 PM (which was new at this place, since visiting hours used to be 24/7) I still left before 6:00. My mom hadn't slept in 24 hours, she'd worked overnight. She'd not eaten since dinner on Friday. So she kept knocking out and I just didn't want to sit there staring at her sleep.
I am sure in some little book she keeps she'll be writing all this down, about how I was barely there when she was in the hospital. When I roused her to tell her I was leaving, the first thing she did was look at the clock and say, "What time is it? Oh, ten to six"... It was as if to call me out for leaving "so soon" or something.
I just cannot feel anything about this whole situation but rage. I know this was all caused by stupidity. It was then further exacerbated by the combined stupidity of her and my sister and their dog psychosis. I said it before and I will say it again. At least when my dad was alive there was this balance with my parents. Now with him gone it is just all crazed estrogen with my mom and my sister, with no testosterone to keep their lunacy in check. And it is NOT my job to do so.
So tomorrow morning I've got to race back down there again and sit in her hospital room doing nothing. Visiting hours start at 6 AM. I am planning on being there before 7 AM. I'll just have to suffer through all morning but at least I'll be able to leave by maybe noon or so, god willing. Then I can get home and have a little time before we have to take the kittens to the cafe and then bring back the five new ones to foster.
I am guessing at this point I will probably be back there Monday morning for another vigil. I am not sure if I hope she goes home Monday or not. Tuesday I'll have to deal with the final big call about the email migration at the Meat Packer, which is happening next weekend regardless of this drama. And I am not going to put a wrench in it and say anything. I'd rather being dealing with the dumb luddites there than the ones I am related to.
When does this end? Is this what adulthood is all about? This constant drama and toxicity from family? Because I am pretty sure none of this would be happening if my family weren't a bunch of braindead, dog-fucking psychopaths. I want to escape from them. I do not want to have to deal with this for another year or ten years. When does it fucking end!?
And to top it off, the Boss just texted me. He and his girlfriend are down the road at the local bar and wanted us to join them. The first time he's reached out since he moved here. We'd been anticipating hanging out with them there for some time. But nope, we can't. I've got to get all my shit ready to be able to race out the door at 5:30 AM tomorrow morning.
When do the Sparrow and I get to have our own life? When can I finally be free from my family? There will come a time when I do a lot of self-reflecting on this moment in my life. But, that time is not right now. I just want to be rid of them both.
When the nurse, a young girl who had to have been in her early thirties, was talking about how they needed to monitor things for the next 24 hours, my sister chimed in, "But, that means if everything is okay then she gets to go home tomorrow... right.... RIGHT?". The nurse very calmly replied that no, she would in fact have to stay until at least Monday.
My mother is barely able to hear any of this. I guess when she fell, which she still doesn't remember how, her left hearing aid punctured her ear drum. So she was not wearing either hearing aid in the bed, and could now only hear out of one ear. The entire time my mother looked annoyed and obstinate that she was even in the hospital in the first place.
Rewinding to how this day all started. I guess my sister, who is playing go-between between my mother and the vet, was only able to get an 8:45 appointment with the vet to have Bailey checked out for his swollen foot this morning. So my mother went into work overnight early and had raced home at 7 AM in order to let the dog out and feed them before having to go with my sister to the vet.
As I am hearing the story, I am understanding between the lines that once again this was an entirely preventable thing, but my mother is not intelligent and gets worked up into useless panics over everything. So she was likely racing to get the dog out, who can barely walk. The bits she recounted involved her being so upset because it was cold out and the dog kept sitting on the patio after he peed and would not go in the house.
Now this dog is 250 pounds of fat. If he sat on the patio in the 19 degree weather this morning, it would not have effected him. He was grossly overweight and likely quite warm. But my mom was no doubt in PANIC PANIC PANIC mode. So whatever happened, happened then. She fell on the left side of her head on the patio. There was some blood on the patio, as well as a ton inside the hoodie she was wearing, which I have to guess helped cushion the impact ever-so slightly.
When my sister came in the house, my mother and the dog were both inside. My mother was sitting at the kitchen table in a seeming daze. Blood coming out of her ear and some blood on her head. Bloody paper towels on the table. She was apparently disoriented and didn't exactly know what happened. It was then that my sister found the blood spot and my mom's keys on the patio. She likely still had them in her hand because she was in her PANIC PANIC PANIC mad rush to get the dog outside to pee.
This is where the story gets really good. Instead of cancelling the vet appointment and IMMEDIATELY GOING TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM, they got in my sister's truck with the dog and went to the vet anyway. And apparently on the car ride over, my mother forgot where they were even going.
They get to the vet, come to discover the tens of thousands of dollar steel rods they had put in the dogs rear legs because of the torn tendons earlier this year were the problem. I guess the bone was growing back over the rod and causing issues and they were likely going to have to amputate the back right leg, followed by weeks and weeks of physical therapy for the dog. They opted to put the dog to sleep right then and there.
I guess also, when my mother was blowing her nose while bawling her eyes out there, her nose started bleeding excessively and only THEN did my sister suggest they go to the ER. I got to hear the story twice from my sister and then my mother about how it was so sad even the vet was crying his eyes out.
After waiting two hours in the ER and all the scans and tests before I got there (she fell at 7:45 or so and my sister first called me at 10:30 that they were going to the ER), it turned out she had a punctured ear drum, as previously mentioned, AND she fracture the skull bone along her left temple.
How can I be expected to feel anything or take any of this seriously when the priority for these two broads was to go to the vet FIRST and not the ER.
Something else interesting happened right before we went in the room, which involves some minor backstory. A few years back my mom got rid of her cheap, useless flip phone she barely knew how to use and got an iPhone. In these following years she has staunchly and adamantly refused to learn how to use the thing properly. She barely knows how to make a call and only recently learned how to use it to take pictures. She doesn't even understand how to send text messages, and when she attempts to text me, she ends up texting me to my email every time.
None of that is really relevant except for me to express that she is a luddite and almost seems proud to refuse to understand how the phone works. As if it is a badge of honor.
Well, a few months back she was no longer able to get the charger cable to plug into the bottom. I've had that happen many times, and usually it's pocket lint or something in there. I use a wooden toothpick to go in there and dig the offending bits out. I suggested she do that, but to no avail, so I showed her on Amazon what she needed to order so she could charge her phone with a pad instead of a plug. Negating the need to plug it in. She seemingly was able to get this working, somehow by some miracle, once receiving the new charger.
When I was there Tuesday, after all the light decorating, she brings her phone to me to complain about the plug not working. Which is a moot point, since the pad charger does what she needs it to do and she seemingly understands how to use that. But, I look at the phone anyway and it is very, very clear that there is something major inside the adapter hole and the plug does not even go halfway in without stopping. I shine a light in there, I try a toothpick as well, but to no avail. It's almost as if something is either broken OR something is jammed in there so hard it's not coming out.
It doesn't matter what it is, I cannot fix it. Nor is it my job to do so. She knows where the AT&T store is if it is such a concern. She is fully capable of going there. Though she doesn't need to because she has the pad charger.
Fast forward to the ICU waiting room. The nurse comes in to bring us to the room and as she's walking us down the hall she is telling us a a little about the few conversations she had with my mom as they were apparently bathing her and getting her situated. The nurse turns to me and says, "She was telling me about her phone and how you broke it"...
I was like, "Interesting, I didn't break her phone".
And she was like, "Oh, she was going on about how the plug wasn't working and you did something to it and it wasn't charging since then and such... maybe I misunderstood what she meant".
It's like here we go again. She has no understanding of how any of the technology works, but she's complaining to some stranger that *I* broke her phone, when I did nothing of the sort. It's just another part of this whole toxicity I was bitching about before. I am apparently expected to fix everything, nothing I say is believed and basically, because she is too stupid to know how to use an iPhone or a charging pad, it somehow means *I* broke it.
Imagine how much more annoying it was when later, when my sister stopped at her house to do a few things and pick up her other mongrel dog, she discovers that the phone was dead and not charging BECAUSE THE CHARGING PAD WAS NOT PLUGGED INTO THE WALL!!!!!
I swear to god, I feel like I am just being gaslit non-stop, anytime I have to deal with either of these two idiots.
My sister left at 5:00, after sticking around to see what the hourly cognitive test was they are going to be giving my mom all night. My mom, fawning over her telling her, "Please go home, you've been here ALL day. Go let your dogs out". I am surprised my mom didn't get on her knees right there on the hospital floor and start kissing my sister's feet.
Even though visiting hours were over at 8 PM (which was new at this place, since visiting hours used to be 24/7) I still left before 6:00. My mom hadn't slept in 24 hours, she'd worked overnight. She'd not eaten since dinner on Friday. So she kept knocking out and I just didn't want to sit there staring at her sleep.
I am sure in some little book she keeps she'll be writing all this down, about how I was barely there when she was in the hospital. When I roused her to tell her I was leaving, the first thing she did was look at the clock and say, "What time is it? Oh, ten to six"... It was as if to call me out for leaving "so soon" or something.
I just cannot feel anything about this whole situation but rage. I know this was all caused by stupidity. It was then further exacerbated by the combined stupidity of her and my sister and their dog psychosis. I said it before and I will say it again. At least when my dad was alive there was this balance with my parents. Now with him gone it is just all crazed estrogen with my mom and my sister, with no testosterone to keep their lunacy in check. And it is NOT my job to do so.
So tomorrow morning I've got to race back down there again and sit in her hospital room doing nothing. Visiting hours start at 6 AM. I am planning on being there before 7 AM. I'll just have to suffer through all morning but at least I'll be able to leave by maybe noon or so, god willing. Then I can get home and have a little time before we have to take the kittens to the cafe and then bring back the five new ones to foster.
I am guessing at this point I will probably be back there Monday morning for another vigil. I am not sure if I hope she goes home Monday or not. Tuesday I'll have to deal with the final big call about the email migration at the Meat Packer, which is happening next weekend regardless of this drama. And I am not going to put a wrench in it and say anything. I'd rather being dealing with the dumb luddites there than the ones I am related to.
When does this end? Is this what adulthood is all about? This constant drama and toxicity from family? Because I am pretty sure none of this would be happening if my family weren't a bunch of braindead, dog-fucking psychopaths. I want to escape from them. I do not want to have to deal with this for another year or ten years. When does it fucking end!?
And to top it off, the Boss just texted me. He and his girlfriend are down the road at the local bar and wanted us to join them. The first time he's reached out since he moved here. We'd been anticipating hanging out with them there for some time. But nope, we can't. I've got to get all my shit ready to be able to race out the door at 5:30 AM tomorrow morning.
When do the Sparrow and I get to have our own life? When can I finally be free from my family? There will come a time when I do a lot of self-reflecting on this moment in my life. But, that time is not right now. I just want to be rid of them both.