It was supposed to be Moving Day

I should have known it wasn’t going to be this easy. If my parents don’t die peacefully in their sleep, I may consider killing them. No, not really.

To get up to date, a few significant events have transpired. First: my mother went into panic mode about moving to a retirement facility while my father was all gung-ho – a complete reversal of their stance 6 months ago. They cancelled the apartment, got back their deposit, and created a lot of drama. Second: they attempted to get the house ready for sale by hiring a contractor, which was a sobering challenge and only unveiled the tip of the iceberg. As soon as the wall cracks were repaired, there was a 7.2 earthquake in Mexico which created – you guessed it, more cracks. Mom felt the ground shaking, got dizzy, assumed her diabetes drugs weren’t working, and called the doctor to complain about the strength of her prescriptions. Third: Mom switched her primary care physician to someone more inclined to listen to her complaints (but located many miles away, requiring HMO-supplied transportation).

I tried a new tactic – offered to personally take ALL the stuff, so nothing would get dumped in a landfill or God-forbid another Goodwill bin; it would just be magically transported to my attic in Seattle. Yes, it was a little white lie. Mom’s response – “Why would you want all that junk?” This stumped me for a bit (why is she hanging on to 50 years of broken plastic if she knows it’s crap – clearly, it’s about security and memories, not the things).

Yesterday she told me that my father will only accept a community offering 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, large walk-in closets, 3 giant meals a day, etc. These places might exist for rich celebrities, but not for the common man. Of course the idea of anyone entering their current home to help clean or cook is simply not acceptable.

So where does that leave the story? Well I’m not offering any assistance or opinions for a while. Instead of visiting my parents, I’m going camping with friends in a heated yurt on the coastline of Washington (thank you Lisa). I’m waiting for the inevitable call about a fall or a heart attack, which will decide their fate. It’s not an amusing way to end this post, but it’s unfortunately it’s the next likely chapter in their lives.