I try very hard not to complain, but only seldom succeed. I don’t intend to complain for the next 15 minutes or so. Maybe avoiding it in small increments will make me stronger.
Lately I’ve been smacking myself around and comparing myself to Paris Hilton whining about the color of her dog clashing with the color of the purse said dog is in. Don’t know if she actually did that, but it sounds like something she would do and I’m trying to make a point here. The problem is I forgot what the point was.
Oh yes, the insane asylum on wheels. As mentioned a few weeks ago, the Hubman, Mother-in-Law, and I are driving to from North Texas to Key West, Florida for a family wedding because she refuses to fly there. Ah family weddings, wouldn’t be easier to have one great huge wedding and marry everyone off at once? I think the Moonies had a good thing going there, although most of their beliefs are a bit off the wall, in my opinion anyway. It would be a huge cost savings, and greatly reduced stress level would be only a few on the benefits. But, every Bride wants her day and who I am to differ? In fact, I liked my day so much I did it 3 times.
Mother-in-Law traded in her leased car for a new one in preparation for the trip. She’s been driving a Cadillac sedan. The new one is a the Caddy version of a cross over vehicle. This darn car does everything. It even has its own phone number for crying out loud. Now I have to add accidentally butt dialing her car and having her overhear my conversation with Hubman about her driving me crazy to my list of ridiculous things to worry about. And get this, it has dual Blu-Ray players in the back of the headrests with wireless headphones. How cool is that? Now we’ll be squabbling over who gets to sit in the back seat.
Oh well, as Lily Thomlin once said “mankind invented the spoken word because of his basic inner need to complain.” I consider it my duty to listen to my inner needs.
Two days ago Mr. Husband probably had one of the worse days of his life. He spent most of his day with his Mom who is FREAKING OUT about a diagnosis of a stage one pre-cancerous lump in her breast. According to all medical professionals involved it is not even close to death sentence. She should be fine and live a normal life (whatever that means) and still go to a wedding in December in Key West, Florida.
We’re driving to North Texas to Key West because Mom-in-Law won’t fly. So we get to experience 4 days in a mobile insane asylum that is Hubman, mother-in-law, and me cowering in the back floorboard with my iPod cranked up loud enough to damage my hearing.
At this point I don’t care. If I go deaf it may be a blessing in disguise. I suggesting renting an RV to make things easier, but she nixed that idea immediately by announcing that she did not intend to go to the bathroom whilst flying down the road. I snapped “well who asked you to anyway?” That took her aback so there was temporary silence for a small bit. Jeebus, you would think I was expecting her to squat over a tomato juice can in the back seat like the rum runners used to do on their runs between Chicago and Kansas City.
Mother in Law has been in doom and gloom mode for 3 weeks now. In her mind she’s already gone down to Sparkman’s and picked out her coffin and tombstone. We’re hoping that this is a passing stage and she will come to terms with the fact that this is probably not her swan song after all. She’s also angry with her husband who left her in death 3 years ago. Now she feels she’s facing this alone. I hear that it is common for the remaining spouse to be angry with the spouse who left them behind alone to cope with whatever comes along. But, we love her and she’s not alone. I hope she can find comfort in that eventually.
She had to get an MRI on Thursday. She declared herself claustrophobic and had already decided that she would lose her mind and die right there in the MRI machine. She didn’t of course. They doped her up so good that she had to use a cane when she got home that evening because she was too woozy to walk straight. Hey, I would have been yelling “Yee haw, I have a fantastic and totally legal major buzz on.” If one can not at least enjoy some part of unpleasant medical goings on – that’s just sad.
Anyway, Hubman got home from dealing with his Mom all day and walks in to me chopping broccoli with unusual animosity, even for broccoli. I seasoned them with lemon juice, olive oil and tears. I turned on him and began the story of how, since this is my third marriage, that this is my 5th rodeo with sick parents and the death of parents. I then told him that I was firmly in the camp that believes that elderly people have the right to make their own decisions and even die with dignity if that is their choice. Usually the worst enemy of the elderly parents in this scenario is their children, because they can’t let go. Also they have switched roles and think that they are the parent and the actual parent is now an uncooperative child.
I started screaming about how I think that the medical profession is ghoulish for keeping people alive when they don’t want to be and are supported by the children of the patient. I then went on to express my view that a medical power of attorney only comes into effect if or when the patient is not able to make decisions and that state of mind kicks in at a much later time than most family members chose to think so.
I finished my speech at the top of my lungs and in tears. It occurred to me later that I was waving a formidable 15 inch kitchen knife around like some mad conductor in the orchestra from hell. It happened to be in my hand when I started the tirade.
Mr. Husband managed to remain calm in this explosion of emotional catharsis. And I have to give him credit for that. I went to him later and apologized for waving a knife around like a mad woman and we cried on each other’s shoulder. We are both each other’s best friend and when we do not agree it’s a very lonely place to be.
So life goes on. Mom-in-law seems to have calmed down a bit. Or maybe it’s the Xanax, but we’re happy about it no matter what the reason. Hubman got her to talk to her friends who have had breast cancer and are now living happy lives and been in remission for decades. That seemed to help her a lot.
Life goes on. It’s all a learning process. Who knows how I would handle the situation if I were her. Maybe I’d be at the top of a tall building drinking from a whiskey bottle and throwing tomatoes at passersby.
Howdy all. Been so busy yakking about wanting to travel and planning to travel that I forgot to mention that I’m leaving town. 🙂
Mr. Husband, his mom and I are hitting the road in a couple of hours. We’re heading off to Houston for another cousin’s wedding. His family is a hoot. They do love weddings. And they know how to throw a party, lemme tell ya!
It’s only a 4 day trip, but I’ve spent days trying to figure out what I want to bring with me. We’re not flying so I don’t have to worry about liquids or sharp objects in my luggage. Always need plenty of both on a road trip. Oh and a bottle opener. You never seem to have one when you need one and I never mastered opening a beer bottle with a cigarette lighter. My sister can do it and I was impressed when I saw it the first time.
Once I got laughed at for bringing a camping ax with me in the car. They weren’t laughing when we had to use the ax to hack of a big hunk of car tire that shredded and was flapping against the fender so hard we thought we were going to crash. It worked long enough for us to get to a station to buy a new tire. Who’s laughing now? Ha, I say!
Houston is hotter than the first few levels of hell in the summer time, so it’s a tricky mix to pack for a dressy occasion with clothes that won’t make you swelter any more than necessary. I’m not bringing any stockings, that’s for sure. All attention will be on the bride anyway. My naked legs are nobody’s business but my own.
Hubman and his mother are both side seat drivers and spend the majority of their time together either telling the other one how to drive or where to turn, while the other is yelling “don’t tell me how to drive.” My plan is to hide in the back seat most of the way there. Plug in my Ipod, and read or stare out the window. Maybe if I put a towel over my head they will forget I’m back there, yea buddy.
So anyhow. It’s off we go. I’m going to experiment with not lugging my laptop with me this time. So I may drop off the radar this weekend. If I get the overwhelming urge to say something in the meantime I can always borrow Hubman’s laptop. Right after I pry it out of cold dead hands. Nah, just kidding. He’s good about sharing. But, thank God his laptop isn’t powerful enough for gaming or it might not be a pretty story.
Yea yea. Well phoeey on it! She’ll get over it I guess. Hopefully I will too, after I’m done feeling all wounded and sorry for myself. She’s probably been mad at me before, I just never found out, or forgot about it. Can’t understand why. I’m such a likable person.
I stepped over the line teasing her. She has an extremely bad case of Henny-Pennyism. The sky is falling. The world is going to hell in a hand basket. The economy will never recover. She will be standing on the corner with a pencil cup by the end of the week. The earth is falling into the sun. This is all coming from a woman who could probably afford to charter her own jet and fly around the world.
More proof that most of us, who are of sound mind and body, can make our own heaven or hell on earth just by our outlook on life. Fear is a horrible thing. It should be outlawed!
Trying to look on the bright side of this, I’m going to flip it around and remember this when I get mad at my grandson. He probably feels the same way. “Excuse me Gram, would you get outta my face?”
He’s doing very well so far, held hostage by his own mistakes, and camped out on his grandma’s sofa at the tender age of 23. I decided that he wasn’t getting up early enough this morning and considered clanging 2 pots together right next to his ear. Glad I didn’t now. Maybe a little extreme? Or maybe not.