You really can’t imagine what your future holds. Flexibility and resilience are such important qualities when life throws you a curve ball.
This is what I wrote in May:
For the past four months, I’ve been off-kilter, dealing with my mom’s situation. I’ve been having heart palpitations, but got all the tests and my situation is pretty minor and no big deal. Mom moved out of her house and into a board and care facility (group home), so we’re clearing out her stuff, which is wrenching and maddening. She had a hundred years worth of craft supplies in about a half dozen different media. Fabric, paint, yarn, every other thing. 20 lb of buttons, sorted by color and neatly labeled. We gave most of it to charitable organizations, friends, and neighbors.
Plus she saved a lot of sentimental stuff, like two aprons that her mother used to wear. Then she gives them to me and says here, maybe you want these. What am I supposed to do with them? Throw them in the trash? I can’t say that of course, so I smile and take them. It’s a heartbreaker. Also, she was a clothes horse, so we had to get rid of tons of clothes. My guest room closet is now full of the stuff we didn’t have the heart or nerve to get rid of.
My writing has really suffered, I’m fat and behind deadline, cancelled the editor and cover designer, but I’m optimistic about the future. She’s in a good place, they treat her real well, and now I just need to catch up and return to normal.
On the plus side, it has awakened in me a drive to clear out everything I don’t use, need, or love. If I keel over, I don’t want my son to have to wade through my s*** like this! So I’m practically on a first name basis with the people at Angel View donation center.
What a cherry post, huh? Will you be happy if I never write again?
Hopefully it gave you a laugh. You know I’m a control freak and my life is out of control so this is kind of amusing in a cosmic way.
(Note to self: it’s “cheery,” not “cherry,” Dodohead.)
UPDATE TWO MONTHS LATER
The board and care was good until it wasn’t. After two months, I brought Mom home to live with us. I rearranged my furniture, got rid of even more things, bought shelving for the garage and shoved stuff out there. My office is now the office/guest room with sleepage for two. It actually looks more stylish crammed with furniture. Shows you what I know.
I lost five pounds right off the bat, not driving all the time back and forth, eating fast food. Those heart palpitations turned out to be PVC and PAC both, which isn’t life-threatening but does make me uncomfortable, and bonus, I can’t drink anymore, because that makes my heart go nuts. So I’m back down to my all-time best weight and feeling pretty good.
It’s so convenient having Mom here. If she’s getting low on portable oxygen or Ensure or whatever, I now know about it BEFORE SHE RUNS OUT. And she’s not getting share germs and illnesses from the other residents like before when she nearly got pneumonia from a bug that was going around the B&C. Also, she’s not bleeding money paying for a room in a somewhat scruffy private home. Where they fed her everything covered in ketchup at dinnertime.
But the best part of all? She’s happy, she’s thriving, and Bill & I don’t feel depressed anymore. The grandkids love that she now lives in their old (guest)room, and I feel like we’re the dang Waltons.
It was the decent thing to do.
Life is good.