Category Archives: Ramblings

Misery

Posted on by
4

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my current situation. There’s one word to accurately describe how I feel. Miserable.

I have never been so miserable in all of my life. I’ve been through some rough times: emotionally, mentally, and physically rough. From childhood to adulthood, and beyond, I have had some serious situations arise. I have dealt with some traumatic issues and come through them all. I suppose I’ll come through this, too. But when? I don’t see much improvement until the new house is finished.

The issues at the moment are dealing with an elderly father 24/7 and my own pain and mobility issues. Dad is 86 years old and sometimes reminds me of a toddler. One day he likes something and the next day, he doesn’t. Or the other way around. He has to have his chocolate drink at lunchtime and if I give him prune juice instead (because he’s bitching about being constipated) he gets his briefs in a knot. He sometimes wants something and when I order it, he loses it or never uses it because he doesn’t remember why he would want that. He watches the news all day long so I sit in the kitchen at my laptop. I can’t stand to hear the news all damn day! When he lets me find something else to watch, he bitches and moans at my choice, and rolls his eyes repeatedly. His usual bedtime is 10pm. However, recently he has been staying up until sometimes midnight! That’s about the time I start getting ready for bed so I have no time to destress, unwind and watch tv without hearing him bitch the entire time. I need that time, even though it’s just 2 hours, to clear my head and not be completely focused on what he’s doing and where he’s at (because he tends to fall). At least when he goes to bed, I know where he is and that he’s not going to fall down! So, when he stays up late, I’m agitated. I go to bed agitated and wake up agitated. I sleep in my power chair in the living room (if I can sleep at all) because I can’t sleep in my bed. I am trying to save money to get an adjustable bed so that I can at least be in my room and semi-comfortable.

On top of all of the agitation of dealing with an aging father, and pain and mobility issues that make everything difficult for me to do, the house is literally falling apart. A couple of weeks ago, the ceiling in the bathroom fell in. It just got so wet from all the leaks in there that it couldn’t take the weight.  It was just yesterday that my son was able to come over and cover the roof and hopefully, it will be ok until he can do more work. The house is crumbling. It’s very stressful and need I say uncomfortable?

It’s very easy to slip into depression and never come out of it. I am miserably uncomfortable. I’ve always been a pretty positive person. I used humor to get through the rough shit in my life but it’s hard to find humor in the situation at hand. I get tired of people telling me to be more positive as if that’s going to improve the situation. Sorry, but even if I were the most positive person in the world, it wouldn’t change anything. I am as positive as anyone would be in this situation! In fact, I think I’m more positive than someone else would be if they had to deal with the same issues, so forgive me if I sound like a bitch when I snap…and I will snap sooner or later.

Signing off for now before I have an aneurysm…

aunt-debbie

Number 7

Posted on by
5

Good Morning, Friends!

I am here to report that Grandbaby number 7 has arrived! I’m thrilled to be gramma to another boy, born April 27, 2023. He and mommy are doing well and back home from the hospital. I hear that big brother is thrilled to have a little brother and my son is proud as can be, of course. This baby makes 7 great-grandkids for my dad. He loves kids and it would make him so happy to have them all around him.

The other day I mentioned to someone that I was proud Gramma to 7 littles, and I was “informed” that number 2 is not biologically my granddaughter so she doesn’t count. That’s about as effing ignorant as Marjorie TrailerTrash Green telling a step-mom that she’s not a real mom. It takes more than biology to make a mom. Don’t we say that about men being a father? That it takes more than blood to make a good dad?! Same concept.

Anyway, I informed the person who made this comment to me that I don’t have to explain anything to her but for her information, I accepted number 2 as my granddaughter before I knew she was not my granddaughter by blood. I told her it doesn’t matter to me that my son is no longer with her mother. DNA doesn’t matter. Number 2 is still my granddaughter because of the love and bond that formed between us during the years that my son and her mother were together. DNA doesn’t have a damn thing to do with it! She and I still have a special bond that will never die. She’s still my granddaughter and she calls me Gramma. Nothing else matters.

As for Marjorie TrailerTrash Green, I wish someone would stuff a sock in her mouth to shut her up. She says the most ignorant things! If you don’t agree then you’re not paying attention.

On that note, I’ll close this post. Otherwise, I’ll be ranting for hours. Have a great week, everyone.

aunt-debbie

Taking Care of Others

Posted on by
2

I’m not feeling it this morning, but I promised myself I’d try harder to write every day. So, here I sit trying to think of what to write about. Ok, I think I’ve got it.

I’ve been taking care of other people since I was around 13 years old. I watched my little sisters first. I didn’t mind so much because my mother (as selfish as she could be) never took advantage of having a built-in babysitter.

When I was a little older, I started watching other people’s children. I watched so many kids over the years. I even went into Early Childhood Development and got my first “real” job as an Instructional Aide before I finished high school. I was working mostly with kids who were nearly at grade level in some subjects but needed help getting caught up with the rest of their class. I loved it but I resigned to start my own family.

When I had my kids, I still watched other kids. In fact, I started my own in-home Day Care. I had to do something to pay the rent and put food on the table because my ex couldn’t be bothered going out to find a job. He said he wouldn’t take just any job… Of course not. He’d rather me do all the work or for us to starve and be evicted. Geez.

Then we moved to Missouri and I got a part-time job at the Elementary school, mostly subbing for other aides who were out for one reason or another. There I was taking care of others again.

I’ve taken care of my nieces and nephews off and on throughout the years. I loved seeing them often but they are all grown now and I never see any of them.

Back in the 90s, I landed a job at the local nursing home, taking care of the elderly. I was CNA (Certified Nurses Aide), not very glamorous I know. I took classes to become a Medication Technician and was certified after a few months of intense study. That led to more responsibility and worked my tail off taking care of the residents of the facility. I worked for several years and I enjoyed the job for the most part but I felt I had to quit because the administration kept jerking us around; they’d change our shifts from days to nights or evenings to days, with no consideration whatsoever. They’d tell us xyz is our responsibility and then change it to something else without even telling us. I had enough and told them I was done.

For the past 10 years, I have been looking after my dad, which was the plan when we first came out here. It’s rough. I have my own health issues but still have to look after Dad and I don’t mind because I signed up for this. His health is declining and I don’t have a clue as to how I’m supposed to keep this up alone, with no help. My family says I should get someone to come in and help but neither Dad nor I want a stranger coming in. I’ve heard stories about older people getting help and then having the help go to Social Services and report that “Those people shouldn’t be living in that place. It’s not safe for them.” They have good intentions but what happens is that the people are forced out of their home. Truth is, maybe we shouldn’t be living in this dump but the new house is not finished and we have nowhere else to go.

Anyway, here I am barely able to care for myself and I’m still taking care of someone else. I look forward to the day I won’t have to take care of anyone but myself, but at the same time I don’t like the idea of losing my dad. But by then I probably won’t be able to care for myself, landing my ass in that nursing home with someone else taking care of me. Ugh.

Stress, Pain, and Loneliness

Posted on by
6

I’ve been extremely stressed this past week. I don’t know whether I’m comin’ or goin’, as they say. If you’ve been reading my blog then you know I struggle with pain and mobility issues and that I am looking after my 86 year old Dad. I seriously need a break.

There seems to always be some kind of disagreement, or friction between Dad and I. He always remembers things differently than I do. I’m not sayng he’s always wrong; sometimes he is right. There’s always something he doesn’t understand, or something he forgets, and once in a while he forgets HOW to do something. He’s very unsteady on his feet and he hasn’t fallen in quite some time but I feel like I can’t leave him home alone for longer than it takes me to see my NP for a script renewal. I should get a nanny cam so I can keep an eye on him just so I can go have lunch with a friend once in a while. I can’t even remember the last time I was out without Dad.

Anyway, it wouldn’t be so stressful if I had some help. All of my family is in Tennessee and I am NOT moving to TN! My son is 15 miles from us. Yes, you read that right. He is 15 miles from us and I have not heard from him in just over 2 months. I’ve not seen him since Christmas and he hasn’t even bothered to text me. I know he’s busy with his own family and his own life but it only takes a few seconds to type out a quick “how are you?” once in a while. I don’t think I’ve been this hurt in a long time. Dad asked me if I had texted him in the last couple of months. No, I have not. When I do text the boy, it takes him sometimes days before he responds. Why would I even bother?

It’s a seriously lonely time in my life. Anyone who is responsible for looking after an elderly parent will feel the same way. It is lonely and stressful to carry it all by yourself. God forbid if Dad is ever diagnosed with dementia. He’s not that bad yet. He has his moments but mostly he knows what’s going on and basically takes care of himself. He just needs to be watched and reminded of certain things. I signed on for this but at the time, I had no way of knowing that I would be disabled and struggling myself come show time.

So, what do I do? I bitch a little, cry a little, and then I suck it up. I do what I have to do and in the evenings just to destress I do jigsaw puzzles, diamond paintings, blogging and journaling. I’ve taken on a new hobby: paint-by-number! A friend suggested it and I thought I’d be so clumsy I’d have paint all over the place but so far, so good! I’m thinking of latch hook and embroidery, too! While I do those things to destress, I listen to my audiobooks. I like the fictional detective/police/PI stories the best. I’ve ‘read’ some very entertaining/engrossing stories! It keeps my mind busy with something besides my troubles.

It’s time for me to get moving. It will take me a couple of hours to cook something for lunch (it sucks being disabled) and if I don’t fix something Dad won’t eat. Today on the menu: Chicken Fajita Salad Bowls. Wish me luck and thanks for reading my blog!

The Road of Aggravation

Posted on by
11

Yesterday was rough. By the end of the day I was ready to pull my hair out. It all started after lunch when Dad said he needed income tax forms printed up soon so he could get his taxes filed. Ok, no problem, right? You’d think it couldn’t be that difficult. I’ll tell you it was. It went something like this:

Dad: “I need tax forms printed up soon. When you get around to it, no rush.”

Me: “No problem. I just need to know which forms.”

Dad: “The federal short form and the state short form.”

Me: “But which ones? There are a lot of forms. If you bring me last year’s forms I’ll have something to go by.” (I don’t remember which forms he had last year and I’d like to know exactly which forms because they’re easier to find!)

Dad: “The 1040, I think. But the short form, not the long form because that damn thing is 50 pages long!” (He gets up to get last year’s forms.)

Thinking this would be an easy peasy task, I go to the kitchen table where the laptop is. I notice he has brought me 2020s forms.

Me: “These aren’t last year’s forms.”

Dad: “Those are the forms I need. Last year I filed the long form. I don’t want the long form.”

I immediately found the federal 1040-SR short form. I bookmarked it so I could go back to it when I had everything needed to print them. I can’t find the short form he needs for the state, which was 1040P. After 30 minutes I’m getting aggravated because I still can’t find the short form, only the long. I thought I found it but it was for the wrong year – and come to find out, that ‘P‘ form had been discontinued. That was why he had to file the long form last year. Now I find the 1040 long form. 50 pages it was not!  I told him that according to what I was reading in the instruction booklet (another half an hour wasted) he needed the Pension Credit form and the Property Tax Credit form.

Dad: “I don’t need those. I never file them.”

Me: “Why not?”

Dad: “I don’t owe them anything so I don’t worry about it.”

Me: “You may not owe them anything but maybe they would owe you.”

Dad: “I’m not going to mess with it.”

Me: I roll my eyes and bookmark the long file.

Now, you’d think printing the files would be easier than trying to find them, right? Nope. I thought I had the printer on my laptop already because months ago, my desktop pc took a dump. I figured I’d need the printer on the laptop eventually, so I hooked it up. The laptop told me printer ready to print or something to that effect. I didn’t have anything to print then but I thought it would be ready when I needed it. I thought wrong. When I went to print the forms, the printer wasn’t communicating with the laptop. Crapola. So, I dug out the disk to install the printer. That should have been easy, too. Nope. I was ready to throw the damn printer out the window and be done with it. It kept telling me that the printer needed to be connected to the laptop via USB and turned on. Grrr…. I unplugged both and plugged them back in. I clicked continue. It just didn’t want to crapperate, as my son used to say when he was a kid. I tried numerous times. I even started the installation process again…and again. My entire afternoon was wasted on this activity that should have taken 30 minutes tops.

Me: “Dad, you’re going to have to go to the library to get your forms.” (I explained the trouble I was having.)

Dad: “I’ll have to have H&R Block do them because the library isn’t open.”

Me: “Well, I know the library isn’t open right now but next time we go to town we can stop by.”

Dad: “The library hasn’t been open since everything was shut down for Covid.”

Me: “Things haven’t been closed down for quite some time, Dad.”

Dad: “The last time we stopped by there, they were closed.”

Me: “I can’t even remember the last time we went by there. It had to have been before Covid or maybe in the beginning of Covid.”

Dad: “I’m telling you it’s still closed.”

Me: Rolling my eyes now. Grrr… I can’t seem to tell him anything so I drop it. I say, “Well, regardless. I still can’t print the forms. You’ll have to get them somewhere else.”

So, after 3 hours of messing with this situation, I decide I need to de-stress because I’m ready to pull out my hair at this point. Anyway, I sit down at the kitchen table and get my diamond painting kit. I turn on my current audiobook and start to work. 5 minutes later:

Dad: “I need a book on a shelf in the cat room but I’m afraid to get up on the chair without someone there to help steady me.”

Me: “Ok.” I turn off my audiobook and get up.

We go into the cat room to get his books. The only reason any books are in there is because Dad’s bedroom had to be vacated due to mold. We moved everything out, including him. So, I get behind him and steady him while he gets up on the chair. I would have done it myself if I didn’t have mobility issues. There’s an old dresser right under the shelf where I keep food and water for BobCat, because he needs safe place to eat where he won’t get beat up by Jack. Anyway, I move the food bowl to the left so Dad wouldn’t spill it. I knew he would need room to put a couple of books so he could get to the ones he wanted. What does he do? He spills the damn bowl of food anyway. All of a sudden cat food went flying into the air and went everywhere.

Me: “Damn it, Dad. I moved that bowl over so you wouldn’t spill it.”

Dad: “I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up.”

Me: “No, don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.” Now Jack and BobCat are eating food off the floor and under our feet. Ugh. I carefully steady Dad as he steps off the chair. “Now go sit down with your books and relax a bit.”

Dad: “Sorry you have a mess to clean up now.”

Me: “It’s ok. Jack and BobCat will help.” I do my best to pick up cat food that scattered everywhere and I leave it until the next cleaning. The least I can do is leave a little food for the mice.

It was getting close to 7pm and I had been on the Road of Aggravation since 2pm! Now I was able to de-stress and have a little bite to eat. Dad made himself a pb&j sandwich and we both sat down to relax, finally.