It's like it's a dirty word.
A horrible dirty word.
We lost K's dad 9 years ago this month, he passed from sepsis, but it was exacerbated by his morbid obesity and other health issues.
K's mom is a sweetheart. I really love her and feel lucky that I got such an awesome extended family when I met, and then married K.
Which makes it that much more heartbreaking as I watch her walk the line, dancing from side to side, heading into some type of senility/dementia.
It's gotten worse over the last 5 or so years. 2 years ago she had a blood clot removed from her brain - but it was (thankfully) more on the outside of her skull. It was right before Goose was born.
Sidetrack for a minute - Goose isn't Goose anymore. He's bubba now. I'll tell that story later.
Anyways.
Her memory got worse after her surgery. It didn't surprise any of us, it was kinda expected based on the fact that she had pretty major brain surgery.
But the last year has been really bad.
About a month ago she went to bed at 8 one night, got up around 10 and put the dog in the car to take her to doggy daycare. She thought it was morning. She 'hit a curb' doing '30 miles an hour'. The airbag went off. The car is totaled. It was a 2 year lease, about 4 days away from her turn in date. She honestly has NO CLUE what happened, how it happened, or really where she was (or if she had gap insurance for that matter). She went to court. And kept her license.
Her doctor started telling her 2 years ago that he doesn't think she should drive. She wants a new car. Every one of her kids (there's 4 of them) have tried (using different methods) to convince her not to. But she a) doesn't want to lose her independence and b) doesn't typically remember the conversations. We had a long conversations (2 of her kids and me) with her on Christmas about it, and about all the options she has to get all around so that she doesn't need a car. The next day she barely remembered the conversation.
For Christmas, K drove the 2 hours to where she lives and picked her up, together they took her dog to doggie daycare, and then he brought her here. I picked up my brother in law from the airport, and we beat K and their mom by about 10 minutes. When they walked into the house, my mother in law looked at my brother in law (her son) and said 'Hi, I'm K's mom' the room went silent. We all thought she was joking.
She wasn't.
We had to point out to her that it was her son. It was heartbreaking.
The next day she was telling my brother in law something and she said 'oh never mind, I told you that already when you picked me up.' He didn't. K did.
On Saturday the boys took her back home, and picked up the dog from doggy daycare with her.
On Monday, on the 8th call of the day to K (yes, this is normal) she mentioned that her car (that's been totaled) was out at doggie daycare being fixed. K was quite confused and questioned her about it - reminding her that her car had been totaled. She questioned then how did the dog get out to doggie daycare over the weekend?
These are only a couple of the most recent examples. It's heartbreaking, and scary. She's only 62 or 63. But her mom had severe dementia, and one of her sisters has just been accepted into a clinical trial at Cleveland Clinic for dementia of some form or another.
We are looking at trying to convince her to sell her condo and move into independent/assisted living out here near us. We'd see her more, which I think would be good for everyone. We are the closest to her other than her daughter, who is quite not right - a lot because of her emotionally abusive husband (more on that in other posts). We are trying to do it from the stance of 'it's her decision' since that seems to be how she seems most receptive.
I'm sad, and scared. We're in the best position to take care of her. And out of the 4 kids, only 2 of them really should be the ones in consideration anyways (did I mention that the oldest son wouldn't fly out to see her after brain surgery even though the youngest brother was going to pay for the ticket???)
Any suggestions? Idea's on how in the world to convince her to sell her condo and move here? We gotta make it happen. Otherwise people, I honestly fear for her safety and wellbeing.
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 6, 2015
Monday, April 1, 2013
Addiction
I know I've mentioned addiction before, I don't remember how detailed I've gotten, but I think I've glossed over it mostly. But it's been on my mind a lot lately. I have fears about addiction, not for myself, but for my little miracles.
See, addiction runs in families. It's actually in the genes and hereditary. There have been studies on it, although I don't plan on citing them or anything, after all, it's a blog not a research paper :-)
Anyways, I've got it in scores. Both of my grandfathers were alcoholics. Both of my brothers are alcoholics and drug addicts. My father is a drug addict. I am a recovered drug addict. And that's just as far back as I know, I have no idea about my great-grandparents or back further. So you can probably see where my fears come from, a long line of addicts with a gene tucked away in there somewhere.
Sometimes I do wish I had made different decisions. I don't regret the choices I made, or the life I lived during that time of my life. It made me who I am, and I actually like the person I've become. But looking back I wonder if I might be living a different dream if I had made some different choices. But that thought scares me too, I LOVE my life, I wouldn't want anything different in terms of my husband and children. It would have been interesting to see what career path I would have chosen, but that's the only thing I'd be interested in.
Don't get me wrong, I actually have good memories from those years. Some good memories. But I also have bad memories, some scary memories, and entire blanks hidden away in there. I have a few friends that date back to before those years, and they will tell stories, of me, during that time and I will look at them like they're talking about a complete stranger. It's not like it strikes a chord and you think to yourself that you kind of remember that happening, it's not there, at all. You assume she is talking about someone else, or a book she read, but that's not the case. She remembers it clear as day, but the memories have been erased, dashed out by the drug riddled days.
I had this friend that I met my senior year in HS. She was a Freshman. We were in band together, and I was a group lead, and she was in my group. I was supposed to be someone that she could look up to. We became fast friends, having some of the same 'issues' and (lack of) feelings of self worth. I was ocean deep in my addiction by then. She was fresh and young and naive. One day I agreed to let her party with me, and she found that she couldn't stand the lack of control. She freaked out and swore she'd never touch drugs again. I'm glad that she made the decision. But it was really hard when by the end of the year she told me that she could no longer watch me waltz my way down the path to self destruction. That if I continued to partake then she was going to walk away from our friendship. She felt it was easier and better for her to lose the one person that she felt really understood her, then to watch me continue doing what I was doing.
I watched her walk away, sad that she was doing so, but in my haze wished her good riddance. I don't know where she is today, nor do I know how she is.
When I think back to the person that I was, it scares me that my children could follow in those footsteps. I remember the nights of partying so hard that I don't know how I made it home. That I wouldn't remember the night, that I honestly thought I was dying. I remember the suicidal thoughts, the 'friends' that would save me when I was having a particularly rough night, simply to take me out and feed the demons with more drugs.
I remember closing myself in a tent because I was so paranoid and scared of the world around me that I honestly could not leave. It was a crippling fear like I've never felt before. I remember locking myself in a bathroom and sitting on the rug in the middle because I was so afraid to step on the tiles. I was locked in there for hours before I was able to be talked down enough to gain the strength to reach across the 2 feet to the door and unlock it. They had to carry me out and then put me on the phone with the one person that could pull me down from those heights. That person took on everyone's demons, and never managed to deal with her own. She committed suicide a couple of years later.
I managed to pull myself out of the depths of this addiction, with help of some very good people in my life, along with the NEED to make something of myself, to be more than what my father and brothers ever became.
These are the memories that haunt me, that make me so afraid for my children. What if they fall prey to drugs, or alcohol? What if they don't have it in them to dig their way out of those trenches? My brother is still there, and has been for around 20 years. He's a wreck of an adult, living on peoples couches, jumping from state to state. Everything he owns fitting in a hiking bag that he uses when he's hitching from one town to the next. He was once a boy with a high IQ, and now only lives through books.
I worry. I know part of it is the environment. I was surrounded by it, I remember watching my dad roll joints when I was growing up. Then my brother started in. It was all around me, it seemed like the thing to do. I was lucky, not only that I got out, but that I got out with minimal scars. Not everyone is that lucky. And I know that our children will not be around it in a home environment.
But I still worry, with all my heart and soul and being. I am scared, scared that they will walk down that same path, fight those same demons that almost lost me to the world, the same way they stole other family members. I do not want that for them, I want better for them. It's a tough tough road, pitted with holes and snakes and hidden obstacles, and I hope and pray that they never walk down it.
See, addiction runs in families. It's actually in the genes and hereditary. There have been studies on it, although I don't plan on citing them or anything, after all, it's a blog not a research paper :-)
Anyways, I've got it in scores. Both of my grandfathers were alcoholics. Both of my brothers are alcoholics and drug addicts. My father is a drug addict. I am a recovered drug addict. And that's just as far back as I know, I have no idea about my great-grandparents or back further. So you can probably see where my fears come from, a long line of addicts with a gene tucked away in there somewhere.
Sometimes I do wish I had made different decisions. I don't regret the choices I made, or the life I lived during that time of my life. It made me who I am, and I actually like the person I've become. But looking back I wonder if I might be living a different dream if I had made some different choices. But that thought scares me too, I LOVE my life, I wouldn't want anything different in terms of my husband and children. It would have been interesting to see what career path I would have chosen, but that's the only thing I'd be interested in.
Don't get me wrong, I actually have good memories from those years. Some good memories. But I also have bad memories, some scary memories, and entire blanks hidden away in there. I have a few friends that date back to before those years, and they will tell stories, of me, during that time and I will look at them like they're talking about a complete stranger. It's not like it strikes a chord and you think to yourself that you kind of remember that happening, it's not there, at all. You assume she is talking about someone else, or a book she read, but that's not the case. She remembers it clear as day, but the memories have been erased, dashed out by the drug riddled days.
I had this friend that I met my senior year in HS. She was a Freshman. We were in band together, and I was a group lead, and she was in my group. I was supposed to be someone that she could look up to. We became fast friends, having some of the same 'issues' and (lack of) feelings of self worth. I was ocean deep in my addiction by then. She was fresh and young and naive. One day I agreed to let her party with me, and she found that she couldn't stand the lack of control. She freaked out and swore she'd never touch drugs again. I'm glad that she made the decision. But it was really hard when by the end of the year she told me that she could no longer watch me waltz my way down the path to self destruction. That if I continued to partake then she was going to walk away from our friendship. She felt it was easier and better for her to lose the one person that she felt really understood her, then to watch me continue doing what I was doing.
I watched her walk away, sad that she was doing so, but in my haze wished her good riddance. I don't know where she is today, nor do I know how she is.
When I think back to the person that I was, it scares me that my children could follow in those footsteps. I remember the nights of partying so hard that I don't know how I made it home. That I wouldn't remember the night, that I honestly thought I was dying. I remember the suicidal thoughts, the 'friends' that would save me when I was having a particularly rough night, simply to take me out and feed the demons with more drugs.
I remember closing myself in a tent because I was so paranoid and scared of the world around me that I honestly could not leave. It was a crippling fear like I've never felt before. I remember locking myself in a bathroom and sitting on the rug in the middle because I was so afraid to step on the tiles. I was locked in there for hours before I was able to be talked down enough to gain the strength to reach across the 2 feet to the door and unlock it. They had to carry me out and then put me on the phone with the one person that could pull me down from those heights. That person took on everyone's demons, and never managed to deal with her own. She committed suicide a couple of years later.
I managed to pull myself out of the depths of this addiction, with help of some very good people in my life, along with the NEED to make something of myself, to be more than what my father and brothers ever became.
These are the memories that haunt me, that make me so afraid for my children. What if they fall prey to drugs, or alcohol? What if they don't have it in them to dig their way out of those trenches? My brother is still there, and has been for around 20 years. He's a wreck of an adult, living on peoples couches, jumping from state to state. Everything he owns fitting in a hiking bag that he uses when he's hitching from one town to the next. He was once a boy with a high IQ, and now only lives through books.
I worry. I know part of it is the environment. I was surrounded by it, I remember watching my dad roll joints when I was growing up. Then my brother started in. It was all around me, it seemed like the thing to do. I was lucky, not only that I got out, but that I got out with minimal scars. Not everyone is that lucky. And I know that our children will not be around it in a home environment.
But I still worry, with all my heart and soul and being. I am scared, scared that they will walk down that same path, fight those same demons that almost lost me to the world, the same way they stole other family members. I do not want that for them, I want better for them. It's a tough tough road, pitted with holes and snakes and hidden obstacles, and I hope and pray that they never walk down it.
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Stuff and things
My poor little goose hasn’t been feeling well. He got his 2 month shots last Wednesday, and Saturday he started running a fever. It was more than 24 – 48 hours after the shots, so I think it was something else. As of yesterday he seemed to be feeling a little bit better, but my poor little guy who isn’t a cuddler, was quite the cuddler Saturday and Sunday (which was nice). But poor Bug was feeling left out and by Sunday evening just needed some attention. I even called K to see when he’d be done with work on Sunday because I felt so bad for her. K said today he was drooling like mad, so I'm wondering if teething is starting, or maybe it's a growth spurt, who knows.
K’s oldest brother Chris came into town last night for a week for work. He lives on the other side of the country, so we planned on dinner with him last night and again including their mom later this week. I had a really important stressful meeting at work today, so we decided that K would go grab a beer with Chris after he helped put the kids to bed, so as not to cause me to be out late, the kids to be up late, etc etc. So, yesterday towards the end of the day at work I texted K to make sure he talked to Chris, the text went like this:
Me: Did you talk to Christ? And can you call your aunt and see if we can email her the stuff then mail the originals? (she’s doing our taxes)
K: I did talk to Christ, he said change my ways or I’m going to hell
Me: LOL
K: (obviously noting that I didn’t realize my mistake) Read your text QT
Me: Ahhhhh LOL that’s too funny
On another funny, as I was putting on my underwear after my shower tonight I found a tab from a newborn diaper attached to the tag of my undies.
Interesting.
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