Home...from Home?

Well I am back...just not really back in action yet. I'm still adjusting my saddle.

My trip home was not the best. Despite the circumstances under which I was returning, I was still eager to get there and offer support and love. In the end, I was never so happy to land in VA and run (not walk) into my husbands arms for one of those dramatic, movie-esque embraces.

To sum it up, my grandmother is doing okay. Not good or great, but better, and lucky to be alive and breathing on her own. She will remain in the hospital awhile, regaining strength with the help of physical therapists and learning how to care for her new colostomy bag.

My great-grandmother, Bobby, is doing better than most 93 year olds...and yet I have to report that her age has finally caught up to her and she is acting it. I believe an assisted living home is in her future. Normally, the mere thought of that would sky-rocket me into a whirlwind of denial, claiming she wouldn't live an hour tucked away somewhere like that. But the truth is, she needs and deserves the 24 hour care that is offered. The only place that we would consider is a place I used to work - it's wonderful, impeccable in cleanliness and support staff. Many of the folks working there, from housekeepers to Director of Nursing to medical records, have family members there - so the cliche for them is no cliche at all. They really do treat residents like their own family. I'm more comfortable knowing she would be in a place where she is never alone, where she won't be put down or expected to "carry her weight"....I hope to see her go to live there after the holidays.

The above crap stems my grandfather. He is a man who has known Bobby since he was 12 years old, long before he married my grandmother (Bobby's daughter). In his emotional state of dealing with all that has happened with Gran, he has become a tyrant at home. My mom says to cut him slack, he is running on E with having to work to maintain his own health benefits, spend time at the hospital, and take care of household chores. BUT THAT WAS WHY I WAS THERE! Hello! And his love for Granny should by no means be his excuse for mistreating others.

He yelled at Bobby for changing the heater setting. I get the frustration of the house being overly warm (downright hot) and the power bill being excessively high, but you EXPLAIN. You don't jump all over someone when they aren't expecting it - most especially when they are ninety-freaking-three years of age. He got onto her about me doing her laundry and fixing her food. He asked her what she was going to do when I went home, that she better get herself up and about because his priority is Gran, who will not be able to come home and do all those things for her own self, much less anyone else.

WTF right???

So I contacted a social worker from the department of aging, she came out to help put things into place to make life easier. Like someone to grocery shop, help with bathing (she doesn't need that, but there could come a time), general household stuff - just until the time comes that Bobby needs to enter assisted living.

Gramps doesn't like the "charity" of it all. He's being an ass. But its not FOR him, and he needs to realize that. And it's not charity, services require payment.

As we entered the hospital parking garage one day, my grandfather joked with the parking attendant "Hey, can I get a discount since I'm a regular?" (he can be nice as pie to everyone else) and it turned out that yes, he could. After 2 weeks of visiting an immediate family member who is in the hospital, they give out free parking passes. The guy tells us to stop back by the booth on the way out & he would have the form for us to fill out & give Gramps his pass. This saves $3 for each time he goes - which is sometimes more than once a day. It can add up. As we are leaving, he damn near puts pedal to the medal as we speed up the ramp to exit the garage and I was all "Um, Gramps? We were supposed to stop for the parking pass....." - to which he says:

"I don't need no G*ddamned charity, I can pay to park."

And he didn't say it with pride, he said it with disgust. Like a jerk.

I left Saturday morning, a friend picked me up and I spent the night at her house so she could take me to the airport an hour away at 4 am, but before I could escape, he rattled my cage one last time.

He stops in the hallway outside "my room" and starts in..."you know, I know you think I'm an ass for talking (talking?! HA! its called yelling bucko! anyways...) to Bobby the way I do, but I really don't care. You don't live here, you don't know. You say you would take her to Virginia if you could, but even if you did she doesn't have 17 years left to live so you will never have to deal with what Gran and I have...." then some more blah blah blah about his only concern being my grandmother and everyone else can hop on a rolling donut.

Thanks Grandpa. That you SO effing much. I'm ever so glad I could hop a flight at your request to come here, 3000 miles away from my husband and children and job where I am not getting paid for the time off right before the holiday season, and try to help even though it was just to play mediator between you and your mother in law of 58 years. (SCORE: Run On Sentence!)

Does Hallmark make a thank you card for THIS occasion??

Let me just say - and I reminded him of this too - that Bobby did not ask, want to, or need to move in with them 17 years ago. They pushed her to do so and she has hated it ever since. Why? Because Granny has to have her house JUST SO...which means Bobby had to get rid of all her stuff that wouldn't fit into her bedroom and bathroom. Shortly after, Gran had a stroke and Bobby took care of her until she regained her abilities again and did so with love & understanding - while Gramps continued to drive long haul as a truck driver back then. So yeah, it has mostly been Bobby taking care of them, NOT the other way around.

And my mom is another story...

She spent 10+ years in Alaska and has recently returned to California to be closer to them now that I am across the country. She still made sure she has a 4 hour buffer zone tho. I have seen my mom one time in five years - and that was when we went up to visit her while she was in DC for the weekend. Do you think she made the 4 hour drive up while I was there? Nope. She took a break and stayed home. Apparently, I do not rate high enough on her richter scale.

Sorry for the pity party mix of emotions. I am glad, mad, and sad all at the same time.
Glad I went to and tried my best.
Mad that it wasn't appreciated.
Sad that I wasn't able to reach out to anyone else while there.

The friend that picked me up, I never saw her again all week. The friend that took me there I got to spend an evening with. Other than that - no one. I didn't have a vehicle to use. I didn't feel right leaving Bobby when I was supposed to be there for her.

In the end...I never even made it to my daughters grave. That's what truly breaks my heart, made me cry all the way home.

I have vowed to never return to California again without my husband. I do not have what it takes to go home alone anymore.

I am a wife, a mother, a friend, and I have a life here. It may not be recognized by my family, but I do.

And I refuse to compromise it again.