So I told you of my mom...she thinks she has mange. Chuckle here. and I told you of last night tiding one on with a bunch of bikers and Brothers from Turkey.
I get home last night and am torn up. Choking back tears because these things happen when you have been hurt beyond belief. I look over and see my "returned items". I can' t decide if I should burn them or suck up my pride because I just got my favorite bra back and decide to throw it in the corner, I then choose to drink some more. (Why not it is a 3 day weekend and I have nothing but some work to do?) So I drink some more of all that alcohol that everyone so kindly left me from my graduation party. As I then proceed to lie down to sleep I feel a light tap on my forehead.
Sitting up straight and arms swinging, I hear a little voice ask, "mommy, I am going to puke.... can you hold my hair back?" OMG. the baby is sick. DAMN. She only had a cold before and now it has risen to puke level. So tore up and all I reach a quick sober. I run the little one to the bathroom and twist her hair up in my fingers as she proceeds to yak. I then give her some very light juice and ice cubes, crackers too, trying to calm her tummy. After an hour we settle back in. I lay her down on the couch with her hair in a pony tail so that she does not have to make the extra stop if she has to hurl again. Slowly the room starts spinning.
Tap, Tap, Tap...there she is again. My little angel in her pink jammies looking white as a ghost and with white lips she squeaks. Not talks...just squeaks. Run Emma, Run. We tear back to the bathroom where in between retching up juice and crackers she cries that she needed me to watch in case the pony tails don’t work. It was so sad.
We go through this a few more hours until exhausted we both fall asleep. It is 6:30 in the morning. Ring, ring, ring...Well what the hell WHO THE F*** is CALLING ME on MY ONE Sunday that I get to sleep in after this week from hell. Grabbing the phone I glance at the baby and make sure she did not wake up.
**A desperate voice on the other end** Decki...please come take me to the emergency room? Please, this mange is killing me and oh, I have so many sores, and I think it is out of control. Aggravated beyond belief, I try to shake the hangover off and talk reasonable to my mom. I tell her that my head hurts and that the baby has been puking all night. So there it starts..."Decki, you really should control how much you drink. You know moderation...The Bible says moderation, this is not good for you to do, I know that depression can make one drink and have you gone to see a doctor for..." OMG mom, I will come get you. OK? (Anything to shut her up)
One huge ass cup of triple strength coffee later, I sit and tell my roommate about getting my bra back. Curious I ask, "What do you think happened to all my panties?" He responds lightening quick that perhaps those fit him. One, two, three,….. LMAO. I got the joke and about spurt coffee through my nose. I love a person who can cheer me up in spite of it all.
So I go get my mom. There sits my brother and he proceeded to hand me the parts of the Sunday paper that he has already read. We wait for my mom to come around the house. I tell him of Turkish men and drinking with bikers. He tells me of switching the handles on the fridge and not telling mom. He sits and laughs his ass off as she tugs at the door to the fridge for 10 minutes. I have to laugh as I think of him doing this mean ass shit to her... I am glad to see us laugh together.
Finally a scuff in the grass and there is my mother. She stands there wearing high-water pants and sleeveless shirt, no bra, sores all over her that have nothing to do with any mange from a dog. She has gone to extremes so that I will see her sores. I think to myself, “Thanks mom!” I then pep talk myself and think of all the people in the world and all the crazies and assure myself that surely nobody is going to judge me as we go do this because everyone has someone crazy in their family.
She has adopted a cane and for effect every two steps she stops, huffs and stares at us. I try not to make eye contact and I really avoid looking at her self inflicted wounds of craziness. I know if I don't make eye contact that she will stay there huffing, so I make eye contact and she shuffles two more steps. Now it is my brother’s turn. I see him shuffle a bit, and then knowingly he glances at her so that she will continue on. Two more steps it is my turn, two more steps, his.
FINALLY she gets to the car. 5 minutes later as she lays a sandwich on her knee she tries to buckle a seatbelt. Funny thing is she is sticking the end in the middle of the newspaper that I had just folded and pushed between the seats. Now I know it is really wrong, but it takes my mind off the fact that there are about 6 slices of ham and a half of block of cheese shove in-between a whole grain fold over. I can't help it, and I have to tell her what she is doing.
Seatbelt on, I floor it. Cussing in my mind just like a person who is about to go postal. Outside I turn up the song Empty Spaces.
"Every Day I wake up and wonder. How will I make it on my own?...Silly me what was I thinking? I was on my own all along......"
I hum it and repeat to myself...whooosahhh. Breath in breath out...whoosah.
We get to the emergency and I only glance at her enough to get her moving out to the door of the emergency room. I pull out of my pocket and read 4 pages on mange. (How in humans it can only survive three days.) This is the kind that the vet said that puppy I gave my mom had. I think to myself. Good maybe they will keep her and I can have three days off. They really need to keep her crazy ass. I have read these four pages before she gets to the door and this is only straight across the space of a one car street. Whhhhoooooosssssssahhhhh. Again, breathe. As I pack the papers I was reading into my pocket I hear her ask if that is about mange. Do I lie, do I tell the truth. If I lie, it breaks my code of ethics. If I tell the truth, she is going to want to read it and tell me about it for the next hour. So I punt and say, "Mom, you need to step it up, this door is going to close on you. There! I derailed her. So as she shuffle stops, shuffle stops through door one, I wait and as the door proceeds to clunk me upside my right side of my body, I fight the urge to shove my foot into the middle of her back and push. But instead, I let myself be tousled a bit. Breathe in...Breathe out...
Door two. Same exact bit of hell is gone through again.
As the lady checks my mom in and I can see the sheer gagging running through her mind as she asks her how long has she had mange? I smile as big as Texas inside, and on the outside I make sure I break no expression. I watch as the lady tries to find something to put in between my moms arms which have rivers dug out of them and the cuff for blood pressure. I know that it must seem terrible that I have said nothing nor touched my mom this whole time so I comment on the diamonds that are all over this absolutely beautiful nurse’s hands and arms. Damn. This breaks the ice and the nurse tells me how she got the tennis bracelet after her third son was born 13 years ago.
She has the longest legs, great hair, manicured nails and the biggest fake tittles that I have ever seen. I think to myself. She must have a good man. (One that fixes her body after giving her three kids. One that buys her presents, one that obviously must adore the ground that she walks on) She is a wonderful sight and suddenly I am painfully aware that there I stand in last nights jeans, with a baseball cap shoved on, hung-over and I am bringing in tow a crazy lady. I coo a bit over her diamonds and then make her laugh as I ask her how she did that then explain by telling her that for my first, second, and third child I got these huge…huge ‘stretch marks.’ She breaks out in the widest laugh. As she laughs so hard she snorts, and then wipes tears from her eyes I smile. For I like her in spite of her picture perfect white teeth.
We get my mom checked in and a new nurse brings her two gowns to cover herself with. As she pulls the curtain with me in the room so that my mom can change, I run. I tell my mom just to call out when she has all her naked covered. I cannot deal with this. OMG I am going to scream.
Later as I sit reading Better Homes and Gardens, I am pained to think that they won’t even let us wash the outside of our house right now in TX. So it will be a cold day in Hell before I get a garden as lush as the ones in this magazine. My mom is reading this huge ass novel. I assume she knew she would be using up my whole day.
The doctor comes in. This is a very tiny Asian man. He seems to be getting smaller as he approaches her. Here come the questions. How long have you hade mange? Do you have mange often? Are ALL these sores from this week? Did the puppy stay with you longer than a few days? Where is the puppy now?
Finally after seeing my mom try to tap dance around the fact that she picks her own flesh off her bones anyways, I tell the doctor that NO, these are not all from the puppy….that if he wants to see those, he needs to look where she cannot reach. She glares at me.
I smile back like I have not said anything wrong at all. The next time the nurse comes in she is in full lab garb with all blue plastic with a face mask on, bright blue gloves and an extra cape that covers her back. I try not to giggle as she approaches my mom with a fully loaded tetanus shot. I put my head down on my hand and lean on it as if I am dying to know how in the world to make curtain ends out of tennis balls.
She then gives my mom four prescriptions. Steroids for the swelling coupled with steroid cream, followed by two antibiotics and of course her shot. I kept looking at her and noticed a resemblance to Quasimodo. All she needed was a huge ass needle and a little bit of a limp. Strange as I fled the room again I thought to myself that none of the prescribed stuff kills mange. Basically though she is to check in with her psych and a dermatologist…Hmmmm. Strikes me as quite funny that my mom is putting her clothes on in the room as if this is going to fix it all. I shrink in the hall praying nobody knows we are related. I take a moment to call out to her that she needs meet me in the outside room after her ten minutes is up.
While waiting I pick up a US News Magazine and notice that Iraq . (or is it Iran ) are holding demonstrations to show their might. There is a photo with all these men in camouflage marching. They all have matching blue …er, baby blue bandanas and are waving flags. BRIGHT PINK AND NEON GREEN ASS FLAGS. I lost my kewl then. I just reached out and did a huge guffaw. The might of this Army was overwhelming. I was just waiting for the new drag queen looking army to reach for their Prada bags and Gucci shoes. Some might. I think they need to do little international relations homework before they storm .
The Middle Eastern Man in the chair two rows over strained a little to see what I was laughing at. I pulled my magazine closer.
To shorten it up a bit, about 30 minutes later and many whoooossssssaaaaahs and deep breaths I get her back to her home and go on my way to get her meds. I frop them off, wait an hour and go back. They then tell me to come back in an hour again. OK…so I wander the movie store aisles and then make my way back to the pharmacy. I sit in the drive through and as I wait another ten minutes with anticipation of getting home and having this done. A very timid lady comes to the window and proceeds to let me know that my mother cannot have any prescriptions. At some time of her life or another….she has claimed to have had violent reactions to each and every one. Even the cream!! LMFAO. OMG…LMFAO again. I thought. Well, B***, just sit and itch. LMAO. It must suck to be such a hypochondriac that you talk yourself out of your own medicine.
So it is now 2:20 in the afternoon and I have taken my mom to the hospital and waited for drugs to fix a made up condition so that I can go find out that she cant have any of the made up drugs anyway. When I get back to my brothers and tell him this he is laughing his ass off. He then tells me it is so good that I can spend quality time with mom. Grrrrrrrr. Then…THEN my brother makes me tell her she cannot have any meds and that we need to wait until they reach the doctor in the ER or her psych Tuesday.
So I walk into her room and forget to knock. Damn.,DAMN DAMN DAMN. More than I EVER wanted to see! I stare at the floor as she grabs some cover up and tell her in 15 seconds flat. Never look up, said I was sorry and ran for dear life.
Meanwhile my brother got a photo from my sister that is in who married an African American man. She is very blond and my VERY prejudice Step dad from is dead set on any one of his “not white” kids marrying anybody with dark skin. So my dear JW brother is going to blow this photo of my sister holding the most adorable baby girl that is so dark you cannot see her in the photo, up to an 8 x 10 and is in the works of mailing it without a letter to my prejudice creep of a step dad. Let him chew on that for a bit/
Now THAT is so damn amusing…Makes me want to sing again!! I just have to take the laughter when I can.
Watching crazy in action round 2
by Sparkplug 40 Replies latest jw friends
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Sparkplug
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Sparkplug
Ok, maybe I should have said that it should be read with intense sarcasm and a dash of irony. Feel free to add in a cup of "What the Hell, and top it all off with a sprinkle of "I never!"Cant you all just taste crazy cake when you see it?
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Sparkplug
Ok, I am off to bed.
*****I am still chuckling***
sorry if I offended anyone.
But it is quite sickening and in order to face it all...well I just laugh.
That is all....
Just keep laughing, just keep laughing..........
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cognizant dissident
Hey Sparkplug
You had one hell of a day didn't ya? Well, I won't say tomorrow can't get any worse, cause you know that's just tempting the Gods! Sorry, you had a bad one, and hope tomorrow is better.
Cog (somedays it's better to stay in bed and not answer the phone class)
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BlackPearl
Sparky, it will get better, I promise. Keep your chin up, tomorrow will bring a new day, be thankful for what you do have,...like your little one.
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rebel8
LMAO! Are you a writer? The way you wrote it....it made an already funny story hilarious. It should be a sitcom on HBO or something.
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jgnat
At some time of her life or another….she has claimed to have had violent reactions to each and every one. Even the cream!! LMFAO. OMG…LMFAO again. I thought. Well, B***, just sit and itch. LMAO. It must suck to be such a hypochondriac that you talk yourself out of your own medicine.
Well said. As a fellow daughter of a crazy mama, I am going to get serious for a moment. At some point you are going to have to stop the madness, and that means don't feed in to your mom's crazyness. Three guesses what you might have done differently here:
OMG mom, I will come get you. OK? (Anything to shut her up)
Mama has learned that if she pesters long enough, you will give in. This doesn't shut her up. It teaches her that it WORKS. You are one of her caretakers, who feeds in to her insane need for attention.
Make boundaries for yourself. When she can call, and how often. Any lectures will dramatically shorten the length of the call. AND she can take a cab to the hospital the next time she gets mange. If she tries to get other family members to coax you in to caretaking (after all, THEY don't want to be stuck with it either), tell your relatives to back off. It's your life. At the same time, make unscheduled visits with your mom to demonstrate love on YOUR terms. That you can visit her without any prompting or dramatics from her. Anyhow, that's how I did it, and mom stopped calling me with her drama, her ailments, and her rewritten will.
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Sparkplug
she can take a cab to the hospital the next time she gets mange.
Jgnat-LMAO. I hear you.It is not often that I feed into her crazy. Once in a while I have to go and help my brother take care of it though. Yesterday was my number. For the most part after she lived with us for a year and some, I realized that she needs committed. This last stretch with her is my brothers idea that he can help her live out he last years of crazy and go peacefully. I personally think she is going to live till 120 because all of her ailments are in her head.
So thanks for the advice, I have it under control. Every once in a while though I have to help him out because lord knows I don't want her over here again..lol I write of it because it is so damn crazy. It is almost like I diassociate myself from things when it happens because it is just too much. over the top. Actually this morning my roommate is trying to look for a director to submit my writings to for he thinks and has for many a year that my writings will sell. I have no idea where to start, so he is searching for me.
Rebel. I see you got the humor right on. How it was meant.
CG and ?Black pearl ...Thanks for the words of comfort. But really I am alright. I just vent it all out so that I will remain that way.
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tijkmo
well it could be worse sparky...
you could have lost your sense of humor
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