Life Changes

It started more than one week ago, having my mom come to live with my husband and I. We put her Coeur d'Alene house on the market the Friday before Thanksgiving. Two days later we had an offer. The night before Thanksgiving we had mutual acceptance.

Then enter the Al factor. The day after Thanksgiving my mom and I drove out to Coeur d'Alene to pack up her valuables and return with her "partner."

Al has been in Coeur d'Alene for the better part of the past couple months. Meanwhile, my mom is battling cancer without her life partner's direct support. For weeks I hear her frustration with him on the phone, repeating herself about things she's asking him to do around the house while he's there. Getting him going on the packing, sorting and getting rid of things they don't want or need. Upon our arrival, it's clear Al has not packed a single box, not one single thing. Other than tidying up the yard for winter and keeping the house somewhat orderly (sans vacuuming), he has done two things; jack and shit. Nothing, nada, zilch.

My mom explains to me that he has never done any projects or work around the house unless she's there to help him. Even when she was working full time, he would wait for her to be home to work along with him. Co-dependence much?

For the past 18 years my mom has carried this "man" in so many ways. She has cared for him and loved him as exemplary as any human is capable. Now is a time she needs someone to step up and be there for her. To just be part of her team and do a few things to help.

Weighing heavily on my mom's mind are finances and trying to find affordable housing in the Puget Sound region. Since her cancer diagnosis and not working, they live on barely 35 percent of median income. Come to find out, Al has six figure IRS tax debts for the years 2004-2007. So the IRS garnishes more than 50 percent of his social security benefits, which they are both now solely reliant upon. And they identify as Republican?

My mom has told me that every now and again Al will say things like, "Do you remember when we used to go out to dinner from time to time or the movies?" My mom has had to explain that when she was working they had a little bit of money to do those types of things on occasion. She also told him how much she hated working. And he would tell her that he didn't want her to leave him when she went into work. Yet he had never opted to go get a little part time job, even something as simple as sitting in a parking lot booth. He allowed his IRS debt to go unsettled to the point of crippling their household income. Not only can Al not provide for my mom, in many ways he is a burden to her.

It gets worse. Al is 76. He's in poor health. He has had open sores on his face for years. Many opine it is likely melanoma. He was at one point diagnosed diabetic. He's been having prostate problems the past couple years. He doesn't want to see a doctor. He says he has had too many friends die of cancer, and he would rather not know. Yet his partner, his caretaker, his guardian is fighting cancer.

Al has made it known he wants to stay put in Coeur d'Alene, despite my mom wanting to be in the Seattle area for her cancer treatment and most importantly to be near her core support network of family and friends. Part of me thinks Al's lack of doing things to help my mom is his childish way of being stubborn. I've heard my mom ask him to do certain things repeatedly. She'll tell him, text him, even snail mail him instructions. Yet they go ignored, seemingly. He says he doesn't remember. She sees his inability to focus on anything, or that he's forgetful from moment to moment. Could he be playing the "poor old man" card, faking it? Or is he showing signs of dementia or Alzheimer's? Either way, this is becoming increasingly frustrating and/or disturbing all the way around.

So flash to the day after Thanksgiving. Have client work to do that morning, a noon appointment and then a drive across the state to bring my mom back to her home in Idaho. We had quite the rain and wet snow storm pelting the windshield, making it hard to see. Lots of standing water on the roadway. The sound of the pounding rain, wiper scraping rapidly back and forth against the windshield, the sloshing of other cars and high wind howling around us. This was the antithesis of Zen. We endured these challenging driving conditions for a solid two hours. We finally rolled into Coeur d'Alene around 6:30 p.m. It's dark, cold and rainy.

My mom wasn't sure whether Al would have any food at the house, and he doesn't cook. He doesn't do much of anything except a bit of garden maintenance, scotch drinking, gambling and rambling. So I stop into a natural foods market and pick up groceries for the weekend. When we arrive, I'm still in go mode. No time to take a moment to sit back and relax. Nope. It's unload the car and get dinner on for us. I know, I'm sounding a bit like a martyr. The reality is, I have some special dietary needs. That and neither my mom nor Al are seeming to drive anything forward with even as much as a hint of velocity. Actually, Al has plenty of velocity to, after dinner, hit my mom up for some money so he can run to the store and get them ice cream. Be that it may be horrible of me to express this, for two people who barely have two nickels to rub together, why in the hell do they think it's OK to spend money they don't have on non essential items?!

Saturday comes bright and early. My mom had said she was going to get up and take her chemo pill at 7:00 a.m., and then we'd get started on getting their important belongings packed up. What transpired is I was out the door by 8:00 a.m. to run a couple of my errands such that they would be out of the way. I'm back by 9:00 a.m., have breakfast, etc. My mom is still in her robe, which is fine. It just takes her so long to do anything. It's not the cancer, it's her age and the fact she's allowed herself to get way too lean. She's not ingesting enough calories.

So it's nearing 11:00 a.m. when we finally get on the road. Mom wanted coffee. So we go to her favorite drive thru. She just wants a small cup of decaf. Fine. Somehow the topic of Al surfaces. I expressed how frustrated I was with him, with the situation. Al not doing what she asked of him has made it so there's so much more that needs to be done. I didn't say this, however, she can't possibly, as a cancer patient, and a frail one at that, possibly be expected to do the work needed to be done to aid their move. Therefore others stop what they're doing to do the things that Al is capable of doing.

It was not a good idea to vent my frustration to my mom. At the same time, I have always had this issue with Al. I have always seen him as someone my mom has carried, nurtured, babied even. He doesn't take care of her. She deserves better. I've always though this. Her mother, my dear departed Grandma, has always thought this. My mom caters to his every need, has for years. Yet he isn't capable of executing the simplest of tasks, like get your paperwork together and get your 10 year old tax issue worked out with the IRS or even just get your shit together and pack so we can relocate our lives for my cancer treatment. Nope. I've always wanted so much better for her.

So part of me feels vindicated. Like my mom is finally connecting the dots and realizing why all these years I've not ever been very warm and fuzzy toward or about Al. At the same time, I would be remiss to not acknowledge everyone is doing their best at their own level of awareness. I just have very little if any tolerance for ignorance, which Al exudes in great quantity.

After my inappropriate venting, we head across town to the bank so my mom can close her local account. She gets a cashier's check and then wants to deposit it into her new credit union account. So we head back across town to the credit union. She's not sure it's the right one, so she directs me to another. The other one is closed, so we go back to the original. It IS open, yet the bank she just closed her account at post dated her check for a couple days out, so the credit union wouldn't make the deposit. So we go back across town to the bank where she had just closed her account so she can just get cash. This took a bit of time because the people behind the counter didn't know what they were doing. Finally we go back across town to deposit her funds. Lastly we make it over to Uhaul to buy boxes and packing materials. These two errands took us about two hours, and Coeur d'Alene is far from being a thriving metropolis. Quite the contrary.

Shortly after we get back to the house I prepare us lunch. No sooner had I served her and she started eating, Al's daughter and granddaughter show up. They have boxes and packing material galore. They're gung ho. The problem is my mom wasn't able to finish her lunch, and she really needs the calories.

We made great progress. Accomplished what I think was what we had set out to do for the day. We got mostly all of her most valuable belongings packed securely into boxes. The following morning I loaded my car with her most prized possessions. The gals returned and a couple of Al's Grandsons showed up as well. The older of the two, Josh, is about my age (forty something). He was assigned to Al duty. This entailed being in the basement where Al's office is setup and helping him pack.

I'd just finished loading my car. I don't know if it was the cold weather, I was totally winded/short of breath/feeling really crappy. I had to sit down for a spell. My mom starts task-mastering me. I explained the situation, and she continues to bark commands at me. And not just one after the other. Like I'm in the middle of doing the first thing she asked me, and while I'm doing it she asks me to do two more things as if she expected I would be doing those things while I'm still in the process of completing the first. Not to mention, she's tired and at this point would be best served allowing us all to work at our own pace so she could recuperate from having over extended herself the day before.

Josh has been in close contact with Al's son Mike. Al's son Mike has been in close contact with my mom and I. So he's pretty well aware his dad has been counter productive and unsupportive. Mike is pissed. He won't speak with his dad.

I'm upstairs with the gals when all hell breaks loose. "You are so mother-fucking lazy, you god damn selfish son-of-a-bitch!" Josh yells. "You've done nothing in two months. Nothing! Except sit on your ass. I can't believe how fucking selfish you are!" This is followed by a huge, physical slamming of some object. Later I learn it was Josh's hand on a cabinet, which was damaged by the sheer force.

Al yell back, tells Josh to get the fuck out of here. Josh tells Al to suck his dick, and that someone has to get through to him somehow. Josh's mom, Al's daughter Michelle, makes a bee line for the basement. She burst into tears and screamed at Josh to leave. I look over at my mom and she's mortified. She breaks down and cries. Michelle comes back upstairs, sits on the couch and sobs. My mom goes over to comfort her. Al's Granddaughter Nikki and I are a little bit in shock around what just transpired. My mom asks Michelle if Josh hit her. She said no. Josh storms upstairs and apologizes to us for what happened, and that it's not OK that Al has done so little to help; he has to hear it from someone. Then he's gone, and except for the crying aftermath, the house calms.

Al comes upstairs crying and cursing. My mom comforts him. He's understandably upset. This goes on for a while. In fact, I was just about to head out the door. The tension was palpable. I would need to say goodbyes before getting on the road. That was surely not going to happen until people were calmed and egos massaged.

My mom was downstairs with Al. I could hear them discussing, on the verge of fighting. Al asks my mom where Josh would have gotten the idea that he hadn't been doing anything. My mom wasn't too quick to think on her feet. So Al accuses my mom of being the cause of Josh coming unglued. My mom is upset and now getting super defensive. That's exactly what a stage four cancer patient needs to be subjected to after what she had just been subjected to after a day of being at the helm of directing the family packing operation the day before. To top it off, Al tells my mom he's thinking of doing himself in. He has apparently said this to my mom on several occasions.

They settle their conversation. My mom tasks Al with getting his office files together, getting rid of things he doesn't need, packing, etc. She comes upstairs. I let her know I'm going. She tells me to go say goodbye to Al. At this point, even though I've barely spoken to him the day or so I had been there (I can barely even look him in the eye), I feel like it's only right to ease the shit show that had just transpired.

When I reach his domain in the basement, he's sitting in front of his computer screen. He's not doing anything he had just agreed with my mom to do. When he sees me he stands up, starts crying again and then comes over and hugs me. You can imagine how awkwardly uncomfortable that is for me. He thanks me for all I'm doing for my mom. I wanted to unthank him for all he's not doing for my mom. Then he goes into some diatribe about how he's constantly researching things about my mom's cancer, etc., etc. I said that the move is really important to my mom right now. That the best thing to do is just be the path of least resistance and accommodate her as much as possible. He just stared blankly. I can't tell if he's just being immature, kicking and screaming or if he is really losing his marbles.

Long story short, I cannot tell you how good it was to get back on the road, even if I hit a 50 mile back up which added another hour and a half to my five hour drive. So what!

My mom and Al arrived around 9:00ish p.m. Monday night. I had spent my first day back cleaning and moving out of my own bedroom. My husband and I decided it would be best to sleep in our basement as they would be much more comfortable in our room. Al rolled out of our full size bed in the guest room the last time they were here. Imagine how startled I was to hear all his dead weight hit the floor, hard, in the middle of the night. I digress ...

Suffice to say I am exhausted by the time they arrive. My husband had a really difficult day at work. He, too, is exhausted by the time they arrive. I went upstairs to say good night and get a glass of water. There are some dishes from the dinner we had waiting for them sitting in the sink and a nearly full dishwasher likely needing to be run. So I feverishly rinse and scrub the dishes so I can run the washer and turn in promptly. Suddenly my mom starts asking me where things go in the kitchen. My eyes are burning. I'm spent. She holds up Al's jug of scotch and asks me if I have somewhere for it or if they should just put it in their room. All I could muster the energy to say was, "It doesn't matter." I turned away and zombie walked myself back downstairs to my basement bed. My mom stormed off in a huff. Am I going to be able to do this? How are we going to make this work?