Well, it's very cool that blogspot now lets me customize my blog so it's more "me," and so the text is large enough and visible enough for people to read! The older these eyes get, the harder it is to read small print, and many of my friends are in the same boat. Hope this makes the blog a little more pleasant for everyone.
The new header is an old pic of me. I was all of 6 or 7, I guess, and at that age, this is what I thought Tchaicovsky looked like. If he did, no wonder people had interesting ideas about him...
I'm a little bummed now 'cause my mother is pulling a lot of nonsense with me, and the trouble is, I'm not sure if she really is confused all the time, or if she's yanking my chain. She has been a great manipulator in the past, so I don't trust her. On the one hand, she cannot/will not keep any of the details straight regarding her medications and tests, is still balking about eating, will not bathe, will not gently exercise by walking as the doctor wants her to. in spite of all that, she thinks she is perfectly competent to drive and wants her car back. It's getting difficult enough that I finally put a call through to her doctor today and told her what's been going on. As regards the driving, the doctor is behind me 100%. Ma is mad as a hornet. I don't give the proverbial rat's posterior. If I put her back behind the wheel and she kills someone, that will be on my head for the rest of my life. I'm not willing to take that on. There's enough stuff in my life I sweat bullets about, without adding that to the picture.
Actually, I suppose saying I'm a little bummed is a gross understatement. I'm mad as hell, actually, because she is throwing away her chance for a good last few years of life with both hands. There's no excuse for it, as she came through her bypass surgery extraordinarily well. Better, in fact, than anyone, even the surgeon, had any right to hope. I've been trying very hard to be a good daughter and help her out with stuff, but it's all met with ingratitude and hostility. Also, I hear more and more frequently that she believes my sister and I made her go through with the surgery. She has said it to me, my sister, and also to various medical professionals, right in front of me. And it is a blatant lie! We encouraged her to have the surgery, in hopes that she would start feeling better physically, and that the general feeling of well-being might enable her to have some quality of life in her twilight years.
So much for that.
She has wanted to die since my father passed in 1983, and I believe that the only reason she signed on the dotted line was because she thought it would be her ticket out. She'd go to sleep and not wake up again.
So much for that.
I'm tired of bashing my head against the wall. I want to run, far and fast, and never look back.
I feel like the only way I'll ever be free of this burden is if she dies, or I die.
Time to listen to some Rory Gallagher again. At least when he is playing and singing, I don't feel so alone...