(no subject)

[katallison]

OK, the Crankiness Meter is to up about eleven here at Chez Kat, and I'm really sorry to blow off steam which should be aimed elsewhere in the direction of my lovely and blameless friends, but...

1) To my dad: Yes, I know you hate it in the nursing home. You've made that very clear, and I sure as hell don't blame you, because god knows I'd hate it there myself. I totally get that you want to go home. You know what you have to do to make that happen? You have to get with the program, do your physical therapy, start actually eating some meals, and above all you have to learn how to manage your ileostomy bag, the emptying and cleaning thereof. Yes, it's disgusting. Yes, it's depressing. No, it's not fair. But you know something? Going home means you're not going to have staff on call 24/7 to take care of that for you. My stepmother, who is still on massive immunosuppressants from her lung transplant, is no way going to handle that for you, and has been strictly forbidden from doing so by her doctor for very good reasons. And do not for a minute start thinking that I am going to jaunt up there a half-dozen times a day to do it for you. Sorry 'bout that; maybe if you'd had a better draw in the Dutiful Daughter sweepstakes you'd have gotten luckier, but as it is, you're just going to have to (literally) take care of your own shit. Until you figure that out, the nursing home is where you're gonna be.

2) Also? If you want me to come and pick you up and take you to your doctor appointments, that's fine, seriously, not a problem, glad to help; but the one thing I would ask is that you suck it up and tell my stepmother the reason you want me doing it instead of her is because she has never been on time for an appointment in her life and you need to be to your doctor appointments on time. Do not leave me to try to come up with fifty-seven lame-ass excuses for why I'm picking you up instead of her.

3) To my stepmother: I like you, really I do, you're a grand person and you have my respect. That said--just because I'm off work right now does not really mean I want to spend two hours a day on the phone with you listening to all the details of my stepbrother's bathroom remodeling and your granddaughter's unfortunate choice of friends, and especially I don't need two hours of day of tongue-clicking about my father's various crazymaking behaviors, because hello? I've known the the guy for fifty years now, I know just how crazymaking he can be, and hey, you're the one who married him, and you went into the situation knowing what you were getting. Also? If what he's doing is driving you nuts, maybe you need to communicate that to him, instead of thinking that I can somehow wave the magic wand and make him start acting rationally because sister, if there were any magic wands to be had in this situation, I'd've been waving them decades ago.

4) To my brothers: OK, yes, I know the unwritten family rule is that The Women Do All The Emotional/Caretaking Heavy Lifting, and yes, you will fill in when directly asked--but honest to god, would it kill you to every once in a while take the initiative here, instead of me having to leave voicemail all over hell to let you know exactly when and what and where is required?

5) To myself: Self, you know what? Quit the pity party, because you know damn well there are people reading these words at this moment who are coping with far more difficult and depressing familial situations without all the whining. You are incredibly lucky, you have your health, you have your own place, you have your own money, you have vacation time so you can actually take care of all this crap without endangering your job. So you feel like you can't concentrate on your silly-ass writing with all these interruptions, well boo fucking hoo, cry me a river. Jane Austen wrote all her books in a public sitting room with people coming and going and yapping at her, you can grind out a few more paragraphs of lame-ass crap in between the phone calls and the nursing-home visits. Suck it up and deal.

Whew. Yes, OK, feeling better now, and apologies again, all around. Sanity returning, and <bowing to popfantastic> Jamaican bobsledding mindset being attained.

Comments

[katallison.livejournal.com]

And eyeshadow! Pirates with eyeshadow are definitely Of The Good. ::nodding decisively::

Thanks so much--and yeah, it's the loop nature of the thing that's so infuriating; the realization that people are the way they are, and things that were frustrating as hell about them thirty/forty years ago aren't likely to get any less frustrating with time. More so, if anything.

Wish I could teleport up to Vancouver and beg a massage from you. *g* And I hope all's well with you, and all your great life adventures.