To Laugh or Cry – Part 1

Well it’s time to check on the supply of crusty ketchup packets, so I’m heading down to Santee in a few days. Also, my father is having hernia surgery, which is normally minor but in an 89-year old, not so simple. My brother is already there, having a mental breakdown. His only real role is to provide transit for errands, deposit my Dad at the hospital, and remember to pick him up. Then he leaves town and I show up a few hours afterwards (yes, scheduled that way on purpose). Unfortunately, the rental car company flaked out, he couldn’t get a car for another day, he had no idea how to use light rail transit (a suburban New Yorker with little awareness that such things exist), and he asked me to assist. My first mistake was that I did help – I got hold of a supervisor, I threw a hissy fit about elderly folks at risk, I called the neighbor, etc. Ultimately it worked out. I also asked my nephew to step up and be the adult in the family, since the rest of us are bad at it.

Mistake #2: I checked back today to find out that my brother tried to get rid of the six non-working vacuum cleaners and bought a new one from the local Walmart. Faithful readers, you all understand what a major snafu that was – my Dad insisted that a little more duct tape would solve the problem, refusing to open the new ecologically sensitive unit, and saying that no one could see the dust anyway. Especially my mother, who is losing her sight in her remaining good eye, freaking out with anxiety attacks, and insisting that my father is trying to kill her. I’m thinking that there isn’t room for any more electrical cords to be used as curtains, and maybe my Dad got the hernia from trying to relocate them.

There’s a conference call on Wednesday with my parents, the case manager, the social worker, me, my brother, and my cousin Mike, who is the only semi-balanced one in the extended family. I helped set it up as an intervention to try to get some home care, Meals on Wheels, and miscellaneous resources in place. I don’t expect miracles, and I had to tutor my brother on how to “”dial” the passcode.

I got a massage this afternoon, which was first smart thing I’ve done lately. Well, the second. The first was not going skiing yesterday and not getting caught in an avalanche, but that’s another story. For some strange reason, during the massage I thought a lot about my maternal grandmother, who died when I was 15. She’s trying to tell me something important, but I don’t know what it is.

Things are tense.