Another update regarding my grandmother: She had an approximately 24 hour period where her memory was obscured and she became combative. She pulled out her catheter and was hallucinating, all symptoms of the subdural hematoma. The neurologist that they have been talking to (as I have not had time or ability to go up there without my gaggle of children, which I doubt is going to be helpful to her or to them at this point) said that she would not be released on her own cognizance but had to first stay in a skilled nursing center. As it so happens, I am friends with numerous senior care specialists; including but not limited to the LPNs, RNs and even the directors of some nursing facilities and home health care agencies whether directly or by association. Also, everyone that knows me knows how much I appreciate the efforts given to me and they'll go to great lengths to help me personally and even more so for my grandmother when they know her. Despite that, my "family" just refuses to allow me to be a part of the decision making team.
Ever since I was a child, I've been treated as the overly dramatic hysterical girl whose antics didn't deserve any attention. That is partly why I developed Borderline Personality Disorder. Eventually you overcompensate with rages and actual hysterics in a desperate attempt to get someone, ANYONE, to fucking listen to you. At that point, they kind of have to give you some of their attention because you are a danger to yourself, if not to others. Although even at my most dangerous moment of self-harm, my father didn't appear to have pity or sadness; just disappointment. What a way to grow up. Having the feeling that if you were able to overcome your fear of death, your dad might feel a bit of grief... but overall, he'd feel disappointment in the failure of what you had turned out to be. I still feel that, to this day. And for the longest time, I didn't want to use this blog as a reason to bash my family and/or friends from the past but unfortunately, they've all helped shape who I am today: for better and for worse. And I feel that if this blog about BPD and the struggles that I face is going to be of any help to someone else who suffers from this god-awful soul-crushing disorder, then I need to be more open and honest about my past and my present.
Anyways, back to the story. My grandmother is one of the only people I know that could honestly be considered for sainthood. All of us have the ability to be kind and generous, but she is truly a kind and generous soul. That is what she does. She gives to those that she loves because it makes HER feel better. She has taken care of all of us when we were ill or sad or hurting in some way and she knows exactly what to say. When my grandfather passed away in 2009, I wished upon wish that I could protect her heart from the pain of losing him. Everyone else seemed to be more worried about protecting their inheritance. At times, I almost wish that grandma had been the first to pass because grandpa, while also a caring soul, was much more paranoid to the idiocy of others and would never have put up with the shit that his two children are pulling. He would have put grandma in the fucking Plaza Hotel if it meant that she would be comfortable and would be better. Hell, he'd bring her home and have a squad of nurses and physical therapists living in their extra bedrooms to make sure she'd have the comfort and help that she needed. Unfortunately, he is NOT here and all that is left are her two sons that are so caught up in what money will be left when she goes that they are fighting me tooth and nail on putting her anywhere that is worthwhile.
Yesterday, I spent the majority of my afternoon and evening looking up information and getting numbers to people that could help find a skilled nursing center and/or a nursing home that could send out people to do the skilled nursing section. The latter would be covered by her insurance. I called my father, feeling excited at the work that I had put into it and he was not receptive to the information. So I made sure to give him the number so he could speak to this man directly. This man that I am talking about has been an advocate and supervisor in senior care for 20+ years. You'd think that with that information, my dad could come up with a great plan of care for grandma. After hanging up with my dad, I spent some time catching up on reading my Anatomy/Physiology book. A few hours later, I checked back with the man on Facebook and discovered that my dad hadn't even bothered to call. I can imagine it has to do with what he had said to me before we hung up which is that he was "too sleep deprived to care right now." It made my blood boil.
That is his mother. That woman stayed up and rocked him to sleep as an infant. She was and is a good, kind person and somehow the two "men" she raised are self-important assholes that couldn't give a rat's ass about her well-being. I don't understand this at all. I don't want to understand this at all. When my grandfather passed away, he told my grandma to give his son's his old fishing equipment. When they were looking at it, my uncle said to my dad, "What's mine is mine and what's yours is negotiable." I don't know about the rest of the free world but if my brother were to say that to me (and we've discussed this in length) I'd punch him in the face. I'd slap him around and ask him what the hell had happened to him in order for him to say such nonsense. He says that he would then thank me for my quick response and apologize for being a total asshat. My dad's response? He let my uncle have all of grandpa's fishing stuff. I'M SORRY, WHAT?! That should show you the level of cowardice that exists in my own father. He refuses confrontation, despite it's necessity at times. And as far as I know, that's why we exist in this plane of idiocy at it's current juncture. He refuses to argue with my uncle about his stupid decisions and considering that the man has had exactly zero interaction with the world or any life experience whatsoever, that is a dangerous decision to make. He only knows grandma exists for money. That is what he does. And poor grandma, wants to believe that people are all good inside and doesn't see that what he does is NOT for her best interests. I've told her this myself before. And my statement was accepted as nothing more than me being a "drama queen." Thankfully, my brother was there to set the record straight. I care more about that woman than any of them do. She has been there for me through everything and I want nothing more than her existence on this planet. Everything else is just a bonus.
So what do I do? I have no control over this situation. My dad refuses to argue for her well-being and will therefore let my uncle make all of the crackpot decisions that he will to protect his inheritance. God knows, I just want my brother here again. We can't do anything but at least we can comfort each other during all of this. At least, my brother believes and cares about what I have to say.
More to come later... I'm sure...
Ever since I was a child, I've been treated as the overly dramatic hysterical girl whose antics didn't deserve any attention. That is partly why I developed Borderline Personality Disorder. Eventually you overcompensate with rages and actual hysterics in a desperate attempt to get someone, ANYONE, to fucking listen to you. At that point, they kind of have to give you some of their attention because you are a danger to yourself, if not to others. Although even at my most dangerous moment of self-harm, my father didn't appear to have pity or sadness; just disappointment. What a way to grow up. Having the feeling that if you were able to overcome your fear of death, your dad might feel a bit of grief... but overall, he'd feel disappointment in the failure of what you had turned out to be. I still feel that, to this day. And for the longest time, I didn't want to use this blog as a reason to bash my family and/or friends from the past but unfortunately, they've all helped shape who I am today: for better and for worse. And I feel that if this blog about BPD and the struggles that I face is going to be of any help to someone else who suffers from this god-awful soul-crushing disorder, then I need to be more open and honest about my past and my present.
Anyways, back to the story. My grandmother is one of the only people I know that could honestly be considered for sainthood. All of us have the ability to be kind and generous, but she is truly a kind and generous soul. That is what she does. She gives to those that she loves because it makes HER feel better. She has taken care of all of us when we were ill or sad or hurting in some way and she knows exactly what to say. When my grandfather passed away in 2009, I wished upon wish that I could protect her heart from the pain of losing him. Everyone else seemed to be more worried about protecting their inheritance. At times, I almost wish that grandma had been the first to pass because grandpa, while also a caring soul, was much more paranoid to the idiocy of others and would never have put up with the shit that his two children are pulling. He would have put grandma in the fucking Plaza Hotel if it meant that she would be comfortable and would be better. Hell, he'd bring her home and have a squad of nurses and physical therapists living in their extra bedrooms to make sure she'd have the comfort and help that she needed. Unfortunately, he is NOT here and all that is left are her two sons that are so caught up in what money will be left when she goes that they are fighting me tooth and nail on putting her anywhere that is worthwhile.
Yesterday, I spent the majority of my afternoon and evening looking up information and getting numbers to people that could help find a skilled nursing center and/or a nursing home that could send out people to do the skilled nursing section. The latter would be covered by her insurance. I called my father, feeling excited at the work that I had put into it and he was not receptive to the information. So I made sure to give him the number so he could speak to this man directly. This man that I am talking about has been an advocate and supervisor in senior care for 20+ years. You'd think that with that information, my dad could come up with a great plan of care for grandma. After hanging up with my dad, I spent some time catching up on reading my Anatomy/Physiology book. A few hours later, I checked back with the man on Facebook and discovered that my dad hadn't even bothered to call. I can imagine it has to do with what he had said to me before we hung up which is that he was "too sleep deprived to care right now." It made my blood boil.
That is his mother. That woman stayed up and rocked him to sleep as an infant. She was and is a good, kind person and somehow the two "men" she raised are self-important assholes that couldn't give a rat's ass about her well-being. I don't understand this at all. I don't want to understand this at all. When my grandfather passed away, he told my grandma to give his son's his old fishing equipment. When they were looking at it, my uncle said to my dad, "What's mine is mine and what's yours is negotiable." I don't know about the rest of the free world but if my brother were to say that to me (and we've discussed this in length) I'd punch him in the face. I'd slap him around and ask him what the hell had happened to him in order for him to say such nonsense. He says that he would then thank me for my quick response and apologize for being a total asshat. My dad's response? He let my uncle have all of grandpa's fishing stuff. I'M SORRY, WHAT?! That should show you the level of cowardice that exists in my own father. He refuses confrontation, despite it's necessity at times. And as far as I know, that's why we exist in this plane of idiocy at it's current juncture. He refuses to argue with my uncle about his stupid decisions and considering that the man has had exactly zero interaction with the world or any life experience whatsoever, that is a dangerous decision to make. He only knows grandma exists for money. That is what he does. And poor grandma, wants to believe that people are all good inside and doesn't see that what he does is NOT for her best interests. I've told her this myself before. And my statement was accepted as nothing more than me being a "drama queen." Thankfully, my brother was there to set the record straight. I care more about that woman than any of them do. She has been there for me through everything and I want nothing more than her existence on this planet. Everything else is just a bonus.
So what do I do? I have no control over this situation. My dad refuses to argue for her well-being and will therefore let my uncle make all of the crackpot decisions that he will to protect his inheritance. God knows, I just want my brother here again. We can't do anything but at least we can comfort each other during all of this. At least, my brother believes and cares about what I have to say.
More to come later... I'm sure...
I will be there soon. Like you said, there is little we can do but at least we can commiserate. This situation has been a long time coming and it will only get uglier as time goes on and until our Grandmother is laid to rest. We have tried to do the right ting and been repeatedly rebuffed. We have argued and pleaded, fought and discussed, for all the good that has come from it. At the end of the day we can only say that we've done our best to set things straight and been confounded at every turn. I love Rach. Stay strong. <3
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