Drinking in the Afternoon

Published on by cmglife

You know what I did today? I drank wine out of a mug so my son wouldn’t question me.  It was 12:30 in the afternoon.  I was feeling so depressed that I thought it might help. It was that second mug that finally put a dent in it.

I realize that the trauma of my mother dying is making me depressed. Very understandable. This may be the most normal reaction I’ve ever had to anything.

I have to get my act together. I think it’s the three weeks on overdrive trying to make her feel comfortable, help my family and come to grips with her dying. Now with nothing left to do I feel like I’ve fallen off the edge of a cliff. That’s when the  depression set in.

It’s “normal”, but when have I ever been normal?

Wallowing

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No more wallowing for me.

I’ve got a mountain of laundry to do. The kitchen is a health hazard and my appearance has a lot to be desired. I think I’ve worn the same three outfits for the last two weeks. I cancelled my hair appointment and my legs are hairy. Allison needs her mother back and Tristan should be able to ask me how I’m doing without me turning into a crying mess. The dog hasn’t been walked, I haven’t gone to work in two weeks and my Christmas tree is still up.

I am still in shock, but isn’t it time to physically rise up and start participating in my life again?

Hmm, no, not yet, not today.

Walking Through Mud

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Please excuse me if I my post is incoherent. I’m half-drunk with the wine I’ve been drinking since 10pm. I didn’t start out planning to get drunk. I was just trying to wait out my family in order to get some peace and quiet.

Oldest visiting daughter, Emily, went to bed at 10pm. Allison, the youngest, wanted to stay up until midnight. I let her stay up. Just as the ball dropped my husband came home!

After discussing the recent death of my mother, he wanted to know why there wasn’t a funeral. She didn’t want one.

He wanted to know why there wasn’t an obituary. She didn’t want one.

Why don’t I print up some photos and have them at the “Memorial”? She didn’t want that.

It’s hard enough trying to wrap my mind around what has happened in the last two weeks let alone try to experience it with someone who doesn’t understand the nuances and complications of my mother’s and my relationship.

It’s actually pretty simple to me, I loved her and I miss her already.

My Mum

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My mum died yesterday. I saw her body and the realization fell on me. She’s really not here anymore. I feel scared. That’s the last feeling I thought I’d feel. I’m a grown woman with a family of my own and I’m scared my mother isn’t here anymore. What if I need her?

Never Agains

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I am crocheting and thinking.  I crochet a dish cloth for my sister once every three or four years.  This one is a reddish pinkish color.  I contemplate whether it is a tomato or real red while my mother lies dying in her hospital bed.   All I have done the last three days is think.  I stare and think.

Someone said to me the other day when they found out that my mother was dying,

“Well, we all have to go through it don’t we?”

“No, “we” don’t”, I thought, “You have know idea how I am feeling. My mother isn’t like yours.  She is amazing, smart, funny, interesting. She makes you feel like you are the only one in the world that matters.”

I’ve been like this all week.  Anything someone says I take it as a personal affront.  Everything is just trivial now.  Bills, work, going the speed limit, laundry.

Does everyone feel like this when their mother dies?  I had no idea.  I was always sympathetic, but I had no idea it was so debilitating emotionally.  The sadness is almost overwhelming.

All those “never agains” just keep piling up in the back of my mind.

Terminal Diagnosis

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My mom was diagnosed with terminal ovarian cancer today and I want to rewind time to last Saturday when life was trivial.

We have had rocky times especially in the last fifteen years or so.  When I talk to her now in between her dementia and pain she is the sweet, funny, smart mother that she often wasn’t.  I am grateful that I can at least get that mother now.  Of course, that is what makes it even more poignant.

All that wasted time.

Stunned

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When I talk to my dad it feels like he is trying to protect me from the truth. I know he knows what it may be, but says it’s not smart to speculate, so he doesn’t tell me. He must understand how impossible it is for the human brain not to speculate when only given bits and pieces of information, not enough to form a complete picture. I know he is speculating, against his will, but he is speculating.

We were supposed to know last Tuesday and then on Thursday. All I have to rely on are quick cryptic text messages from my dad as the information trickles in from the medical professionals. In the meantime we are all looking up symptoms on WebMD and the Mayo Clinic website. Speculating.

Friday she ended up in the hospital, but was released and is now convalescing on my dad’s couch.

Monday. That is the day the labs come back.

Scared? Sad? My head is spinning, maybe I am just stunned. My mother used to be as strong as a horse physically. I never thought of her as old. My dad said he used to refer to her as an ant, carrying more than her body weight. Now she is so small and thin. Her hair is snow white and her skin is almost see through.

Our relationship has always been quite on and off. I had an old post that said how much it hurt when she stopped sending me birthday cards, but lately she has been trying so, of course, I welcomed her back with open arms.

I’m afraid she may have waited too long to come back and now she’ll be gone again.

Reading Too Far

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I’ve allowed to myself to read too many disturbing things on the news today.

It’s one of those times where your co-worker is on her computer and exclaims “Oh my God!”.

You immediately start to read over her shoulder of something that happened to some poor child. The headline is bad enough, but you find yourself reading into the article. This time your protection mechanism fails and you read too far. You finally realize this when your eyes fill up or a chill goes down your spine.

You have read too much.

You turn away and think about it into the next day.

Do Not Mix With Alcohol

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Who ever really pays attention to that warning anyway? I never did, until today.

With the amazing amount of prescription medication I am on to handle my Bipolar II condition and the fact I have sleep apnea, many phobias and anxiety it’s surprising I can function at the high level I do.

Here we are today, falling asleep while driving long distances. Oh, yes it is bad. I have what I like to call “micro sleeps” on a three lane highway in traffic. My doctor says to pull over, but it won’t make any difference. After all I do have to get home eventually.   It is pretty scary. I spend a trip slapping my face, shaking my head, windows open, tapping my leg, singing or talking to myself. Nothing works. So I decided it must be part of my sleeping disorder, sleep apnea.

I thought I had fixed it with a cpap machine, but I couldn’t “tolerate” it. That is the medical terminology. They couldn’t find a mask small enough to seal to my face. The mask would “blow out” during the night and wake me up. Constantly, all night long. The next thing was a mouth guard. This was no piece of plastic found on the internet for snoring, mine is truly bionic. It fits really well and should for the price of a small car.

I went back to a sleep specialist to see if there is anything I can do with this new phenomenon of falling asleep while driving (if truth be told I can fall asleep almost anywhere at any time). He suggested a sleep study, but in the meantime he would give me a prescription for a medicine to take before driving long distances. The first time I took it in the morning and I was up until 1am. I broke it in half the next time and it worked wonderfully. Now today I took it in the morning and made it to my sister’s, about an hour away. I’ve used about 6 tablets in the last three months so I figured I knew how it worked. What I didn’t calculate into the equation was a visit to my ailing mother (a story for later) and when I got to my sister’s I needed a glass of wine. I had one at about 2:30 and ended up not being able to drive home until around 6:30!

My sister said I was just freaking myself out, but the alcohol hit me hard! After two glasses of water and two cups of coffee I managed to get my wits about me and drive home. It turned out I was just fine, Ellen was right; I had been freaking myself out.

I wondered how I would begin to explain my situation if I got pulled over. I was not drunk or under the influence of any kind. Is being paranoid a ticketable offense?

Favorite Christmas

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We’re having a favorites Christmas this year so I’m finding out what each person’s favorite foods are. There are some parameters, I am assigning them a food group; appetizer, hors d’oeuvres,  dessert, etc.  Everyone has given in to my wonderful Christmas tradition except my daughter Emily. I told her she was either with us or against us. I’m sorry but I had to get tough. She finally picked sticky toffee pudding and was quite put out until she realized that Aunty Ellen would make it.

No one knows it yet, but I am putting together a slideshow of everyone’s favorite music and play it on the TV during our Christmas celebration. I know in the past there has been a little resistance to my music. Maybe they just like giving me hell, but this should shut them up (Christmas spirit)!

I have been trying to weave the questions “What is your favorite musician?” into conversations. I asked John while we were in Vegas. He said The Zac Brown Band.

“What’s your favorite?” he asked and rolled his eyes.

“ U2, of course, but now I love Adam Lambert as well.”

“Oh yeah, he’s really good.”

What???? Did I actually hear John say he thought Adam Lambert was really good?

He must’ve had too much Vegas and too much to drink and thought I said Miranda Lambert.