Skip to main content

Resentment: Family Style


The following is an angry rant from last month. Today, I'm more accepting and no longer consumed by anger and jealousy. Why publish this post? Honesty and full disclosure.  Coming to terms with the things I cannot change and the poison that sometimes takes root in my brain.
Time to do more work...I got a message from my mother tonight going on about my sister's health issues and how my other sister is with her. And she's so glad that she's with her, taking care of her. Give me a God forsaken break and gag me. Am I supposed to be sad for her? She has had the attention of the entire family for the duration of my TERMINAL illness. Her illness, while life-threatening and serious, could be helped by quitting smoking and, eating healthfully, and exercising. Yet, she flouts medical advice, keeps smoking, overeating, gobbling pain pills, and driving under the influence. Sounds like a death wish to me.
Meanwhile, I have no chance at survival, no matter how much I don't smoke, drink, nor eat. We all rallied for her, hospital visits, trips into Seattle to include her in holidays. What do I get? Empty promises, mostly. Oh, they will visit..When my daughter comes to see me..From California. They don't bother bringing me holiday meals. And, my sister who's so graciously caring for her? Was shitty to me and walked out on me when I was recovering from a respiratory infection that nearly took my life two days prior. Double standard? Most definitely. Oh yeah, if I tell anybody this dirty, little bit of laundry, they blame me. Lovely. I feel so blessed with dysfunctional family. Let it rain with tsk tsk and insinuations about my mental health. It's the only weapon they have. The truth is they let me down. I made my amends to them long ago.

 My family surprised me by showing up en masse to my #2015WalktoDefeatALS. Both my mother and my sister showed up in wheelchairs to support me on the walk. My Dad and honorary nephew, Josh pushed the wheelchairs. So appreciated. I needed to see my family go out of their way to for me. I needed to see that I matter to them. It's a failing.
Labels:
Location: 2720 E Madison St, Seattle, WA 98112, USA

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Fall

Orange, gold, rust, burnt sienna, ochre, raw umber; the riot of fall colors, in the trees and at our booted feet; a drive in the countryside; the taste of hot apple cider on my lips; the satisfaction of a truckload of firewood we gathered and cut ourselves; elk herds on the move; hearty stews, savory soup, crusty whole-grain bread, pumpkin and gingerbread spice lattes; these are the memories I tap into the most this time of year. Cabela's fliers in the mailbox; Carhart's camo-clad hunters swarm outlying areas; mushroom garthering; huckleberry picking; logger burgers; forest service roads; cheese sandwiches on the woodstove; warm quilts, cool sheets, and flannel nightgowns; cold butt, warm heart.  Immensely grateful to have the well of memories to draw upon.
Post a Comment
Read more

Lashing Out

Fed up. Sick of hearing, "I'm sorry."  Apologies don't erase the pain you inflict on me. You pull my pubic hair. Your nitrile gloves pull the hair from my head. Not once in a while but day in and day out. You turn me in a manner that suits you rather than in a manner that doesn't stress my body. Why won't you use the pad and sheet to turn me as one unit? Instead, you allow my body to twist as you hold me one-handed. How good you are at your job. What part of "my muscles are dying" don't you understand?
Post a Comment
Read more

Managed

Managed care, do not get me started. It is the bane of my existence and my savior. If quadriplegia has curtailed my activities, and it has, then being in a home has curtailed even more. I've had to dumb it down and set my standards low. Gone, are the halcyon days of getting in my wheelchair to go for a stroll or sit in the sun, or even sit in the sun room. Neither the nurses, nor patient care technicians, know how to put me in my wheelchair. Seriously. My chair has head controls and it is a bafflement. Most caregivers don't even realize I have head controls. First, they hit the left head pad when they lift the armrest which turns the chair on. Next, they sling me over and place me in the chair. The problem? My head, naturally, rests on the headrest, which accelerates and drives the chair and is beyond my control. Running over a caregiver or running myself into an obstruction are very real consequences of their ignorance. What could be worse? The caregivers remain clueless abo...
Post a Comment
Read more