Peace and happiness. Isn’t that what we all strive for in life? At my age and in my health, I feel I’ve paid my dues and now it’s my time.
I know there are members of my family who may read this and be shocked by some of the things on my mind. Others will relate, only doing so quietly. We were programmed, after all to remain silent. I refuse to be silent anymore. I think it’s time the truth, MY truth, be put out there in hopes of someone understanding. This piece will involve not only my immediate family, but my extended family and some friends, as well.
I moved to Tennessee a year ago. It went from a possible thought to a move a few hundred miles away in a matter of 3 weeks. I guess you could say it was done in a hurry. There were only a handful of people who even knew our plans until after we were gone. I told my 3 best friends, I mentioned it to my brother in law while talking on the phone with him about my sister’s (Paula) illness as when we spoke we were down here looking at property. It was also discussed with the investment firm we signed with to rent our house out for us on a lease/option basis. That was it and we were packed and gone.
I had an epiphany one day while my sister Ann and I (who were very close) were in Dad’s garage, after he had passed, and we were pricing things for an estate sale so we could work on the house and get it on the market. We were both complaining that she and I had gone though every item in and out of the home and done all of the work without the help of our sister Paula. I’ll admit, she has her challenges, as we all do, but at that time she was not facing the extra health concerns as she is today and was by no means helpless, and definitely not as much as she was treated to be then. Ann was ranting on and as I was half listening, the wheels in my head were also churning. I remember interrupting her and blurting out, “I’m done! People are going to start getting a piece of my mind! I have eaten shit and kept my mouth shut out of respect for Mom and Dad all these years, but they’re no longer here and I’m done biting my tongue! I don’t care who it is, no one will treat me like shit or hurt me without hearing a piece of my mind!” Little did I know, Ann would be the one who got the piece of my mind and we haven’t spoken since. It’s been over a year now.
By the time we got Mom and Dad’s house listed for sale, I became ill. I began losing weight, although I was eating the same and then AFTER losing weight, I could no longer stomach food. No matter what I put in, it came back. I went to the doc who sent me to a specialist and then a surgeon, I had a series of tests and surgeries, yet they found no reason for any of it. By this time, I’m down to a mere 78 lbs. It all began in October of ’14 and in April of ’15, I was hospitalized for my COPD. My sister Ann came to visit me the day after I was admitted, complaining that Rich hadn’t called her until that morning. I was taken by ambulance somewhere around 2 am. At times, I’m treated and released within hours, so why bother her then? When they admitted me at 7-7:30, not sure anymore, he called her. I was in dire need of sleep and they were giving me something, but she wouldn’t leave and kept me awake having to talk to her. I was upset, but thankful she thought of me and tried to pleasantly visit. After 5 days of aggressive treatment, they released me saying I had reached my final stage and there was nothing more they could for me. They advised me to go home and get my affairs in order. So, I did. I went home bedridden and began to plan my funeral. I made sure Rich was aware of all my wishes and where to find everything he would need, and I gave in and waited to die.
I’m not afraid of death. I know where I’m going when I leave this world. I did however decide that it would be me and God who decide when I go, not the docs and I began to fight. I guess that’s one trait I learned from my Daddy. He was always the fighter, whereas Mom wanted to die. I watched her on many occasions take a handful of pills and go to bed for days hoping to never wake up. That’s another story for another time……
At any rate, I decided it would not defeat me unless the Lord said it would and I didn’t hear it; I didn’t feel it; all I heard was push on. My bed was a matter of maybe 4 feet from my bathroom, so on the first day of me deciding to fight and gain strength, I grabbed my cane, turned to sit in my wheelchair and wheeled into the bathroom and pivoted onto the toilet. This was a major milestone for me! As I sat, I could feel my blood pressure and heart rate rise and I began having chest pains. I had no idea how I would get myself back in the bed, but I had to. My phone was in my pocket, so I called Ann. She lived just up the street from me. You could walk it in 5 minutes, so you can imagine the short drive. With every bit of breath I could muster I asked her to please come help me. I need help now. Her response to me was that she wasn’t even dressed yet, didn’t fix her hair or have any make up on. I simply said never mind and hung up the phone.
I caught my breath, scooted into my chair and shuffled my feet to the bed, turning the chair sideways. I grabbed my cane and tried to stand, but my legs wouldn’t hold me. I felt my chest pound harder than when I remember when I had the heart attack several years ago, I became dizzy and nauseous and feared for the worst. My fear, as I said, wasn’t dying. It was my then 11 year old granddaughter being the one to come home and find me. I once again got myself settled down, used my chair and cane and finally got myself in the bed. I laid where I fell because I had no energy left to reposition. After a few minutes, I got under the covers, took my medications and dosed off. A half an hour later I’m awoken by my sister Ann standing in the doorway of my bedroom putting her purse in the floor. I said, “no Ann, I just got myself settled down and need to sleep. Just go on back home”. She told me no, she was there now and was staying, as she was pulling off her jacket. I again said, “no, just go home, I’m fine”. She came back with how she had gotten herself ready to come and sit with me and that’s what she was going to do. I hate, do NOT regret, but hate that things had to happen the way they did next. Remember my story about no longer biting my tongue? I didn’t. I yelled at her, and I mean I YELLED at her. “I NEEDED YOU WHEN I THOUGHT I MAY HAVE BEEN TAKING MY LAST BREATH, NOT WANTING MAISIE TO BE THE ONE TO COME IN AND FIND ME. FAMILY IS SUPPOSED TO BE THERE FOR ONE ANOTHER. I DON’T CARE IF I WERE IN MY PAJAMAS, IF YOU CALL AND SAY YOU NEED ME NOW, I’M THERE IN A FLASH! I’M SORRY FOR ASKING FOR YOUR HELP, BUT I DON’T NEED YOU NOW AND I WANT YOU TO GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE AND GO HOME!” She put her coat on, grabbed her purse and left, then called my husband that evening to say she would not be calling or coming by until I call her and apologize. It will be a cold day in hell as I have nothing to be sorry for. Side with me or not, it’s my stand.
I know my sister talks with many members of ours and Daddy’s family, and I’m sure they’ve all heard her version of what happened between us. This is the very first time I have put my story out there. I think it’s time to get it out, let it go, burn that bridge and move on. As I said, I know many of y0u family members may not agree, some will relate In silence, and I hope that some understand.
So, since I had spent 18 years living in KY raising my granddaughter, taking care of Mom while she was bedridden and taking
care of Dad till he passed, my purpose there was filled and nothing was left to keep me there, so I moved on. I’m happier than I’ve ever been and now I feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders from that burden I was carrying.
I love and miss you both, Ann and Paula, but life goes on ….
Life in the Slow Lane 