Update on Mom Dec. 22nd

Hello, All,

It’s been about a month since my last update and certainly time for another. Foremost, thanks to those who have been so supportive of my mom and her caregivers. This journey has been a personal Everest.

Last night mom shared with me how much in awe she is that she has touched as many lives as she has for all the love she is receiving from so many. Isn’t that what life is all about? Hers has certainly been charmed and one very well lived in that department.

My heart is a little heavy as I continue to write this. We’ve had a very challenging week. Mom went in for her follow up oncology consult on Wednesday. Based on her blood labs she had become anemic. She ended up being at SCCA from 8 AM until after 9 PM that day, and from 2 PM until after 9 PM Thursday for more lab work and infusions. She had to return again Friday and was at the center from 8 AM to just after noon. Today she is having two GI procedures done and has had to follow a preparatory fasting schedule for the past few days, which to me seems counter intuitive as she’s been so focused on maintaining a healthy weight.

Friday her oncologist opined while her current treatment is working, it is not working as effectively as he would like to see. New scans have indicated possibly some slight growth of the tumors. Thus Dr. Martins thinks this treatment may have run its course. You can imagine how discouraging this news has been to my mom and those closest to her.

Dr. Martins offered two other treatment options. The first being conventional chemotherapy. The other is a trial cancer-fighting drug that has shown a lot of promise in effectively treating this disease both in breast and lung cancer patients.

Like the first drug, the one mom is currently taking daily, this clinical trial requires a certain genetic mutation in the tumor to be present. There is a 50/50 chance it is. We anticipate receiving test results in the coming week. It’s the anticipation of such results that really gets to my mom, understandably. Likely not how she anticipated starting off the holidays.

Despite the recent ups and downs, my mom is doing remarkably well. Her energy is good. She feels better, especially since the infusions. As soon as she has recovered from today’s procedures, we’ll get right to work again on her nutrition. I still see quite a lot of determination in her, which is excellent.

We are also much closer to having her and Al settled here in their own place. Her Coeur d’Alene home sold quickly, and we’re anticipating an early January closing on it. I was also able to find them an ideal place about 10 minutes from Terry and I in a lovely 55+ community near the shores of Puget Sound. We’re aiming to close the purchase just ahead of her sale so we only have to have the movers out once. Both she and Al are very excited about this community as well as having a new place to call home close to relatives and loved ones. This prospect has really helped lift mom’s spirits, Al’s too, giving them something to look forward to and be excited about.

Again, we appreciate so much being in your wonderful thoughts and prayers. I am optimistic we’ll have many better days on the horizon, and I look forward to sharing them with you soon.

Have a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Turning Over a New Leaf

I'm forgiving myself for my series of previous, negative posts. At the same time I have to acknowledge that's how I was feeling at the time I wrote them. Sometimes we all ask too much of ourselves. When we do, our egos get bruised and influence resentment.

My recent food reaction and health backslide I understood as my body's way of telling me I have to slow down. I've noticed a pattern of flare ups occurring during times of excitement, whether the experience is positive or negative. Of course I've also been dealing with quite a bit of stressful stimuli in recent weeks. Certainly stress has an adverse impact on a person's health, unless one just isn't human.

The night before my one year anniversary, my mom first confided in my bestie. Following their talk, my mom and I had a good heart-to-heart. In fact, this helped me realize how much less I converse now compared to the social butterfly I was previous to the chronic illness. I've become much more introspective and introverted. I'm OK with that. Yet I can see how this can be problematic for others, especially my mom who occurs for me as requiring much more reassurance, especially now that she's aware of living with cancer.

During our talk, my mom expressed to me she enjoys doing things for Al, that it's not a burden on her. I had an opportunity to express my concerns about how I fear the lack of balance in her and Al's dealings together could weigh too heavily on her, further jeopardizing her health. This time I think my mom heard and realized my concern is out of my caring for her. I was also clear she and Al need to exhaust all their resources before they get additional financial support from their family. This tax burden Al has been avoiding for the past 10 or more years is beyond ridiculous. As well, if this is also how he's handling his aging and declining health, this isn't helping my mom either. I am still very clear about my concern being for my mom's well being.

Even if my care and concern is for my mom and not necessarily for Al, I also realize I have to play nice to alleviate further conflict and keep the peace. Sure, the guy is a total tool. If I can find common ground it is that we both love my mom dearly, and at times we both have a contradictory way of showing it.

I'm really concerned about my mom's nutrition or lack thereof. She's so thin. She's also recently started losing her hair. If there's anything to know about my mom, she is very particular about her hair. If the hair loss is a side effect of her cancer treatment, she would rather be saddled on the sofa with nausea as the day is long than have her hair look less than its best. She spends literally hours on it everyday. It takes her at least three hours to get herself together in the morning. That's no exaggeration.

Realizing it may be beneficial to light a proverbial fire under her butt about her nutrition, I opined it's highly probable her hair loss could be a result of malnourishment. She then asks what she's supposed to be eating. I simply said, "More." Not to mention, I put together a list and details of foods that she likes and are really healthy. She hasn't really taken it to heart. She met with a nutritionist. I'm not sure she has taken that to heart, either. I will say after I connected the dots between her hair loss and diet, she ate a really big breakfast. Whatever it takes for her to maintain a healthy weight.

Then there's my own struggle with maintaining a healthy weight pared with my ability to consume foods that agree with my system. My diet had become more varied to a point. I had been habitually eating an egg with breakfast. That may be too repetitive, just felt it important to have the protein and fat to start the day. My bestie and my hubby have both been riding me about being too slender. I'm not yet concerned about how I look when I see my reflection. In fact, I have some nicely defined muscle tone. Yes, I've shed a lot of weight, at least 40 lbs. from my heaviest (which was way too heavy). I've been maintaining within 5-10 lbs. for the past year or so.

I went to see my energist yesterday. For anyone who may think this completely flaky or "woo woo," you're right. For anyone who may be open enough to comprehend the potential benefits of this work, you're right. Here's what I want to share with you about some of the work we did yesterday.

My energist got to the heart of a couple matters by asking me a series of questions.

Regarding my reaction the day before, she asked, "Is the thought or feeling you had during that experience more loving or fearful?"

Of course I said fearful.

"Is the though or feeling you had more cooperative or competitive?" she asked.

I went back to that moment when I went to inhale and was unable to complete a swallow therefore unable to get air. It lasted a mere moment. Even so, it was enough of a shock to my system to sound the alarms and trigger additional thoughts like what if this gets worse ... "Competitive."

"Is the thought or feeling you had more compassionate or judgmental?" she asked.

"Judgmental."

"Is the thought or feeling you had more safe or unsafe?" she asked.

"Unsafe."

"Is the thought or feeling you had more simple or complicated?"

I pondered for a moment ... "Simple."

"Mmmm, I get complicated," she said.

I pondered for another moment or two about all the directions my mind darted seemingly simultaneously. Here I am, sitting in a dark cinema with my husband, trying to enjoy a movie while my throat feels like it's possibly closing up. So it's a choose your own adventure. There's the part of me that wants to remain calm and try to focus on the movie because I want to appease my husband. Then there's the other part of me that just wants to be home in bed, surrendering to not being in optimal health. Then there's the other part of me that is telling me I need medical attention, otherwise chancing it could be fatal. How could I not be torn in that moment with each of those thoughts being so real to me?

"Yeh, I can see how the feeling was complicated." I agreed.

"Did the thought or feeling you had give you more faith or doubt?"

"Doubt." I said without a moment's hesitation.

"Is the thought or feeling you had more  forgiving or resentful?"

Hmmm ... another one I had to ponder for a moment. Well the fact that I had wanted to appease my husband by suffering is certainly not compassionate toward nor forgiving of what my body was doing at the time. "Resentful." I said.

My energist then explained how answering those questions the way I did indicated my thoughts and feelings I had during my reaction were lies from my ego. She did say of course I may at times need medical attention. Even so, she asked me one of the most pointed questions of all. "No matter what, are you going to be OK? Even if it means leaving your body, are you going to be OK?"

"Yes." I said, adding that I want to remain here for my mom and my husband as I feel I still have so much I want to complete.

Then she asked me the same series of questions about my mom coming to live with my husband and I for a time. To which I responded as follows:
"Loving. Cooperative. Compassionate. Safe. Simple. Faith. Forgiving."

That right there is pure truth, the heart of the matter.

My energist also encouraged me to place my hand over my heart and express gratitude to my body for all it allows for me to do in this life and all it gives to me. Woo woo or not, I comprehend how this gesture could certainly put a positive note into my subconscious.

This may sound a bit odd. Since working on healing myself and my body for the past couple years, I have an increased awareness I am living inside an organism that has its own feelings and language. My body cannot speak in words. My body can express itself through symptoms. Over time I have tuned into what my body tells me. When I am caring for my body, my body expresses gratitude by functioning and feeling well.

The other day at Seattle Cancer Care Alliance's Healing Words workshop, the guest speaker shared a comic book entitled "Cancer Made Me a Shallower Person." It is important to acknowledge the good that comes out of situations that are seemingly bad. It's not all bad in the way it's not all good (the latter a common catchphrase back in my 1990's college 'daze').

I've also seen how much of a blessing my chronic illness has been. I've completely altered my diet and abide by very clean eating habits. As such, my body has become lean and so many people in my life remark about how I am reverse aging. The challenging thing is looking healthy and yet still feeling unwell as well as not as able-bodied at times. I know I am learning to be more patient with myself and the world. Overall this experience has slowed me down, inspiring me to be more present and to look inward for answers. I have a wisdom I wouldn't have had otherwise. This has also tested the boundaries and patience of my marriage, which is all the stronger for it as I believe I will be when I'm fully healed.

I was browsing Facebook the other day and came across these incredible affirmations published by Huffington Post. I am planning to review these every morning when I awake and every night before bedtime:

• I am the architect of my life; I build its foundation and choose its contents.
• Today, I am brimming with energy and overflowing with joy.
• My body is healthy; my mind is brilliant; my soul is tranquil.
• I am superior to negative thoughts and low actions.
• I have been given endless talents which I begin to utilize today. I forgive those who have harmed me in my past and peacefully detach from them.
• A river of compassion washes away my anger and replaces it with love.
• I am guided in my every step by Spirit who leads me towards what I must know and do.
• My marriage is becoming stronger, deeper, and more stable each day.
• I possess the qualities needed to be extremely successful.
• My business is growing, expanding, and thriving.
• Creative energy surges through me and leads me to new and brilliant ideas.
• Happiness is a choice. I base my happiness on my own accomplishments and the blessings I've been given.
• My ability to conquer my challenges is limitless; my potential to succeed is infinite.
• I am courageous and I stand up for myself.
• My thoughts are filled with positivity and my life is plentiful with prosperity.
• Today, I abandon my old habits and take up new, more positive ones.
• Many people look up to me and recognize my worth; I am admired.
• I am blessed with an incredible family and wonderful friends.
• I acknowledge my own self-worth; my confidence is soaring.
• Everything that is happening now is happening for my ultimate good.
• I am a powerhouse; I am indestructible.
• Though these times are difficult, they are only a short phase of life.
• My future is an ideal projection of what I envision now.
• My efforts are being supported by the universe; my dreams manifest into reality before my eyes.
• I radiate beauty, charm, and grace.
• I am conquering my illness; I am defeating it steadily each day.
• My obstacles are moving out of my way; my path is carved towards greatness.
• I wake up today with strength in my heart and clarity in my mind.
• My fears of tomorrow are simply melting away. I am at peace with all that has happened, is happening, and will happen.
• My nature is Divine; I am a spiritual being.
• My life is just beginning.

First Anniversary Storm + Dream

Yesterday marked my husband and my first wedding anniversary. We were married on the 11th day of the 12th month of the 13th year of the new millennium at the Fifth Avenue Theatre, where we had first met nine years previous almost to the day.

(From left to right) Mom, yours truly, my husband, his sister, our bestie pose for a post ceremony photo opportunity at the main entrance to the Fifth Avenue Theatre in Downtown Seattle on the 11th of December, 2013.

I had planned a fabulous day and evening for us, starting with taking in a matinee of Mockingjay at Cinerama, followed by a spa retreat in the afternoon and then a lovely dinner at one of our favorite restaurants, Loulay, that evening. We were about a third of the way into the movie when I began having a food reaction to the sandwich I had just eaten (at least I think it was the sandwich). So we left the flick and rolled down a few blocks to the nearest urgent care clinic. They treated me with a benedryl injection and monitored my vitals for a while before releasing us. Of course the injection induced drowsiness, so it was back home to rest and rest I did for about three or four hours.

My husband has been working so incredibly hard lately, and in very challenging conditions. We're both under quite a bit of stress, and I wanted yesterday to be really amazing. Instead we had yet another fire to put out.

Still, even in the midst of disappointment, my husband showed me true care and compassion. I cannot imagine he was not let down. I'm quite sure we were both looking forward to having an indulgent day together as well as the opportunity for much wanted connection.

While I was still coming out of my groggy haze from the benedryl, my husband picked up some provisions and made us all (mom and Al included) a nice steak dinner with baked potatoes and sauteed haricot verts. At our small reception one year ago, we dined on filet mignon, so it was a perfect nod to what had been so much our perfect day. And for me a reminder of how perfect an imperfect day can still be. I am incredibly fortunate to have such a loving, understanding, compassionate and patient husband.

Of course my mom and Al were concerned about my health, too. Add me to that list as well. While my illness has been going on for more than two years now, I can honestly say these troubling incidents are fewer and farther between overall. Still, I cannot help wondering whether things will get better or ... I want so badly to believe I am healing and I can fully restore my health.

I have to say the big storm that blew through yesterday evening was the perfect end to our turbulent and nothing-went-as-planned day. As we were sitting down to eat sometime after 8:00 p.m. last night, a couple booming explosions abruptly halted our pleasant dinner conversation as the house suddenly went dark. No sooner had the house gone dark, the lights came back on. Finally one last flicker and we maintained our power despite the howling winds outside. Living in a wooded area with huge trees all around us, I cannot help being a bit nervous during high wind storms.

After dinner we all sat on our sectional sofa in the living room. Terry brought out our wedding cake slice we had stored in our freezer for the past year. I fed him a small bite and then took one for myself, just out of the box it had been stored in. I had had the thought to fish my Grandma's beautiful gold-leafed antique cake plate out of our storage to give us at least something grand to ponder as we indulged in a long-standing tradition. It's just as well. Grandma's cake plate was historically and exclusively reserved for birthdays. I think it's good to honor traditions. According to the wedding cake tradition of having a bite one year later, it's to remind us of our wedding and help us reflect on the sweetness of our first year as a married couple. I'm also told we are to expect some luck.

While luck and good fortune are fine ideas, I also acknowledge how powerful it is to be cause in the matter of one's life. Which brings me to last night's dream. I was with some childhood friends, as we are in our current age. We were hiking up to this vacation home that had been in one of my friend's family for years and years. This home was at the top of a mountain in a very mountainous area. It almost looked like the Appalachians. Rounded mountains lushly forested with green deciduous trees. Somehow we were also close to the ocean. We were hiking upon a mountain top and shielding ourselves from high tide waves that were pushing huge piles of seafoam in our direction. It was quite bizarre. This was all occurring during what was otherwise a beautiful, bright, sunshiny day. As quick as the tide raged in, it receded, leaving what had once been a sparkling lake in the valley below an empty, dry lakebed. I also remember roaming through the old house. It had some charming qualities about it, and it also needed quite a bit of work. That's about all I recall.

Dream Interpretations:

Mountains: To see mountains in your dream signify many major obstacles and challenges that you have to overcome. If you are on top of the mountain, it indicates you have achieved and realized your goals. You have recognized your full potential. Alternatively, mountains denote a higher realm of consciousness, knowledge and spiritual truth. To dream you are climbing a mountain signifies your determination and ambition.

High Tide: To dream of high tide is indicative of favorable progression in your affairs.

Cottage: To see a cottage in your dream represents comfort, peace and serenity. You prefer a quiet life of simplicity. The cottage may also represent an altered sense of reality and thus may be a means of escaping the responsibilities and problems associated with your home. You need to approach life's difficulties one at a time.

Foam: To see foam in your dream signifies light heartedness and pleasure.

Water:To see water in your dream symbolizes your unconscious and your emotional state of mind. Water is the living essence of the psyche and the flow of life energy. It is also symbolic of spirituality, knowledge, healing and refreshment.

Day: To dream of the day denotes improvement in your situation and pleasant associations. A sunny day symbolizes clarity and/or pleasantness. You are seeing things clearly.

In all it seems my dream puts me in a positive place. I have to say, things are in some ways looking up. My mom's house in Idaho is pending sale, slated to close just after the first of the year. I've also found an ideal place for them here, and we're awaiting a mutually accepted contract any minute now. Having mom and Al in their own space will be a huge win all the way around. Now to continue working on my health ...

Not Havin' It

I know, I really would be better served not complaining and finding the bright side of having my mom, her stage four lung cancer and her "partner" Al moving in with my husband and I. What's at issue are their priorities. They want housing over here, which is much more expensive than where they came from. They're essentially going to be giving up a $685 per month house payment in exchange for a $1,000ish per month house payment. They exist on 35% of median household income. He has a six figure IRS tax debt, otherwise they would be closer to 65% of median household income, possibly greater, which is sustainable. To resolve this, Al just has to take the bull by the horns and explore options.

I laid out a very simple three step plan for them:
1) Obtain IRS transcripts (which apparently they had already done).
2) Speak with an IRS taxpayer advocate. I even provided the number. (not done).
3) Get a couple of attorney consults on the possibility of discharging the tax debt through bankruptcy. I even provided a couple attorney referrals, and they offer complimentary consultations. (not a single call made)

Al's son, daughter and daugher-in-law are spinning their wheels. My husband and I are spinning our wheels. My mom is spinning her wheels. Al says he wants to talk with his friend Robin first. Robin has already told him he would help after the holidays. WTF is this guy waiting for? So I ask my mom if Robin is an attorney (knowing full well he is not). Then I lay it out. We're all spinning our wheels. Do we need to have a family check in to ensure we're all spinning our wheels in the same direction and for just cause? If Al's not going to take this seriously, do we pull our offer and they can find something, on their own, to rent? I have no tolerance for procrastination. This tax debt is from 2004-2007. It has gone on long enough. My mom having to over extend herself so Al can continue burying his head in the sand is done.

I'm certain my mom was unhappy with my stance. I don't care. This is the way it is. People are damn well going to be cause in the matter of their lives and solutions to their problems or I'm out. Period. Done.

My mom looked so frail to me this morning. I've bought her all kinds of things she likes eating. She's still not eating nor nourishing herself well enough. She came out of the bathroom in tears the other day because her hair is falling out. It's not her cancer treatment. It's her malnutrition, I'm sure of it. She continues to be a victim of her own poor choices. I'm not having that either. I'm not here to baby or coddle her. I'm here to support her. When she fails to support herself, I find myself completely exasperated; at a complete and total loss.

I get the nature of these old folks related posts are negative. I'm just frustrated with their state of affairs. Sometimes my mom acts like a charity case. It's plain sad. I don't know what has happened to my mom. I feel she is really mentally unwell, and understandably given her cancer diagnosis. I've broached her mental wellness with her social worker. My mom said she doesn't like talking about herself and won't see a counselor.

Yet she keeps saying, "I just want a place of our own so we can be happy." Happiness is not a destination. It is a conscious choice one makes everyday when one gets out of bed in the morning. It's about finding contentment in life. While I may be disgruntled with this situation, I enjoy writing thus even this ranting I feel is doing me some good. So there's my silver lining.

People have done wonderful things for my mom. She knows it. She has talked about writing notes of thanks to those who have been there for her, done for her, given to her, etc. So I bought her some pretty thank you stationery. It's been a few days, yes. Even so, she's not written a single note.

I walk in the door tonight. I greet my mom joyfully and get right to a minor home repair. She sits down in the living room and immediately begins regaling me with all of her social security business about them having the wrong amount to deduct from her social security for her medical insurance premium. She continues to mention her medical insurance premium and the amount it costs each month as if it should be free or something that my husband and I pick up the tab on or ...

Here's the thing. If her "partner" would get his act together, they would have 50 percent more income for their household every month. By not just rushing in to pick up his slack, I actually am OK with their pain points such that they realize they have to figure it out so they can sustain themselves. I have my own life to provide for. My mom is one thing. I most certainly do not intend to, nor want to in any way provide for Al's life. He is just along for the ride.

If we end up getting this place for my mom nearby, and I'm on title, we are most certainly doing some estate planning. Al is not included. Sorry.

To come home and immediately be immersed in my mom's stuff is not how I want to feel when I enter my home, my sanctuary. I took myself and my laptop to the basement and am holed up here to just have some me time. Otherwise it feels as if there's no escape.

As we progress with my mom's sale, which appears promising, and we progress with solidifying a place for them, things will ease. Part of that also hinges on Al progressing with cleaning house on his IRS baggage. Get rid and be done with it.

Universe and the powers that be, please grant me the patience and strength to see me through this gracefully ...

The fifth daze ...

So this morning our dog craps in the hallway outside of our, er, I mean the old folks' room. Leave it to Al to not only step right in it, barefoot, but also be so unaware of it that he tracked it down the entire length of the hallway, which is a good five or so paces.

Once we resolved that, it was breakfast time. Yum-yum. When Al comes in, my mom asks if he would like her to fix him an egg. He says no that he would like an Eggo. She then says alright, and suggests he fix himself an Eggo. Then he just sits there and does nothing. So she fixes it for him. Later, my mom suggests he make his tea. She gets one of his teabags out and sets it in front of him. Again, he just sits there and does nothing. Again she fixes it for him. OK, it's one thing that he just sits there and does nothing. It's another thing that my mom can't help but baby him. And she wonders why he's so ridiculously incapable.

They have very little money. At the end of the month they are scraping at best. This last month, Al allegedly had run out of money until my mom and I made it out to Coeur d'Alene. So the first thing he does is run out and buy them a tub of ice cream for the two or so days they're going to be there. The rest will likely go to waste in their freezer. Today my mom takes my husband aside and asks if there is anymore toilet paper. He indicates there is more in the guest bath. My mom says they used what was in there. He's pretty sure they went through eight rolls of TP in five days. What the hell are they doing with it, making paper machet art or hording it in their luggage? We barely go through a roll a week. When we went out on the Christmas ship the other night, Al had a couple scotch and sodas. Um, if you're too poor to move yourself and have to shack up with your gay son in laws, you're too poor to drink and you have much bigger problems.

Apparently I missed out on a precious conversation Al had with my husband about how Walmart helps the little guy. You have got to be fucking kidding me! Last night Al drove home with my husband and regaled him about what a whiz he was a the stock market. That he and my mom were living pretty high on the hog. He was trading margins and apparently they finally caught up to him. Of course instead of holding and waiting for the downturn and subsequent correction, he moved securities around and lost everything; his nest egg and my mom's. Poof. Gone. Clean up on aisle Al. Thank you?

How are they going to sustain themselves financially (or otherwise)? I have my limits, so does my husband. I love my mom. I don't love their lack of awareness, nor their wastefulness, nor watching her coddle Al like he's a baby. I don't love having them live in our home.

While out running errands, I picked up an analog converter so they could watch the antique TV set they brought out with them. That will keep Al a bit more pacified. Shit, now I'm starting to coddle, too. Anyway, while Al was sucking on his digital broadcast pacifier, my mom was watching me finally put the lights on our Christmas tree. She said that my husband and I look really tired. Um, thank you? Actually, I was somewhat grateful at this acknowledgment. I feel drained by their presence. Their dynamic is really unhealthy. Al drains my mom, and she's fighting stage four lung cancer. She constantly complains and is so fussy. If she's not complaining or fussy, then she's emotional. I remember this wonderfully loving and uber affectionate woman who used to be my mom. She comes back in fits and spurts. Mostly I don't know who this imposter is.

I cannot imagine what my mom is going through. Her mind is constantly aflutter. I see it. The anxiety must be horrendous. Yet she's opposed to seeking professional help. While she enjoyed the class I took us to last week, I'm not sure she's doing any expressive writing. It's not my journey, and I keep that in perspective. Yet I am on a journey, and this path is really challenging.

There are moments like tonight when nice music is playing, the lights are soft and something new comes to life like a beautifully illuminated Christmas tree when all is calm. My mom seemed content, even. I was even deriving some pleasure from decorating. More so, once I had finished lighting the tree, siting beside it in my Eames lounger with my feet up, basking in the glow and treasuring those timeless holiday tunes ...

The fourth daze ...

Yesterday morning I'm in the kitchen making breakfast. My mom comes in as I'm finishing up and getting ready to leave for work. She asks me how to get to the nearest Costco so they can pick up their prescriptions. I acknowledge I'll help her with a map, and quickly print one out from my phone to the downstairs wifi printer. She asks me for a fourth or fifth time about getting someone out to root her side sewer line. How many times does one have to go in circles about something before they just makes moves and get it done? Watching my mom spin in circles, which I've been doing repeatedly since being looped into helping her sort her life out, is beyond exasperating for me. Just pick up the fucking phone, dial a number and have a conversation.

Then I'm on my way downstairs to go get the printout and my mom asks me if I can give them a map. Yeah, I'm in the process of doing that right now. Thank you.

I've about 10 minutes before I need to make moves. I have a couple of work things to bang out on my laptop. I'm discovering I can no longer do so casually on my sofa. In loafs Al, and suddenly there's a new request. I overhear him talking with my mom about another person who has called him direct about showing her house. I thought I had already handled that. Guess not. So I pause once more what I'm in the middle of, no big deal it's just my life, and switch gears to assist Al. He has to go through several messages before he gets the number. Instead of just dictating it, he has to write everything down. OK, so Kudos deserved here. At least he writes stuff down, unlike my mom who just runs around in circles when she could easily create a to do list to complete and mark things off of.

No sooner do I complete Al's tasking of me, I realize my 10 minutes have just run out and I've got to make tracks. So away I went ...

Mom and Al had plans last night. They went to a grandson's basketball game in Bothell. By the time my husband and I returned home, we were both spent. So we just had some leftovers, hung out on the sofa for a bit and then watched TV in bed (something we only do when staying in a hotel). Being together in a quiet house was nice. I just feel this energy of having to do stuff all the time. I don't know if it's the old folks' anxiety I'm picking up on, or if I've developed a new level of anxiety of my own living in what feels like a temporary situation between houses. Wait, I thought they were the ones relocating. Guess misery enjoys company.

So my husband and I drift off around 9:30/10:00 p.m. I don't know what time it was when the old folks came home. It woke the house. The alarm console is right next to our bed. It registers any door opening or closing with a very affirmative "dong" sound. I would anticipate two dongs. One for door opening. Another for door closing. I counted like a dozen or so dongs. I don't know what in the hell they were doing with the door. I really don't want to know. Actually, I think they were having trouble getting the knob locked. At one point hubby got out of bed to assist. My mom was apologetic. I'm now wide away. I don't know what time it was. Oh well ...

I know, I'm being negative. I'm just venting my frustrations. I think it helps. I want my life back!

The third daze ...

Al clogged the toilet. Otherwise the day went pretty smooth overall. My husband and I were of course busy. He has a couple of weekdays off. So we pack in as many "to do's" as possible, which isn't necessarily healthy. We're still working on getting our clothes situation sorted out. I relinquished my entire closet to the old folks, so I've still a few piles of clothes in and around the basement yet to be put away or packed.

I've been feeling like I'm the one who has been moving, like it's my life that suddenly has to be uprooted and resorted. Admittedly I cannot help but feel a little resentful for the proverbial shit having rolled downhill in my direction. Yet what are my options? Not help my mom? If she didn't come with so much baggage, a.k.a. Al, I may be willing to transform the basement into a lovely mother in law unit and have her stay with us.

So after a full day of working around the house and getting our massive tree in the stand as well as in the house, I was able to take a little siesta. Oh that was such an appreciated luxury.

It was also my husband's work Christmas party, which started at 4:00 p.m. He said the last thing he wanted to do on his day off is sit in a bar with his colleagues. His boss had several extra tickets to the main event following supper, which was a holiday cruise around Lake Washington on the Spirit of Seattle. She was kind enough to extend the invitation to the old folks as well. So we brought them along.

I have to admit, albeit kitschy, it was very festive. The ship was outfitted in perfect strings of white lights. The MC was somewhat entertaining. It was a really dry night with no wind, so the lake surface was smooth as glass. They had a choir aboard, Emerald City Blend. They were quite good, and I think the old folks were thoroughly entertained. Though it was a three hour tour, which was a bit lengthy, especially having started at 7:00 p.m. We all slept hard last night. The day went without incident. I don't recall my mom having gotten upset or crying once. Success!

The second daze ...

Day number two of the old folks living with us. What a whirlwind. I was up super early, around 5:00 a.m. We had turned in earlyish the night before. We were ambitious today. We got our Christmas lights on the house this morning, in about an hour methinks. Despite the cold and having to work upon an icy, snowy rooftop. Heck, it got us a bit more into the spirit pared with the thrill of possibly falling to our deaths. We managed it without incident, thankfully.

Seattle Cancer Care Alliance (SCCA) had a midday "Healing Words" class I wanted us all to go to. Most if not all of their classes are for patience as well as caregivers. So it seemed only appropriate for us all to partake.

I had a huge revelation today. My mom vocalized to the class that I'm her primary caregiver. I kind of know what that means, but in some ways I really don't. That's the whole thing about this situation. At no point did my mom sit me down and specify her expectations of me and/or define my role. I imagine this is much of what new parents go through, making it up as they go along.

I'm helping provide to a point. I want to be there for my mom emotionally. It's hard. I feel blocked. Like I feel the need to problem solve. And she's here, living and doing alright now. Then again, there is a part of my mom that is missing. I think she is aware of what that is, in fact I know she is.

The class was lead by a nice, elder man who is a stage four prostate cancer patient. The purpose was to explore healing through writing. Totally right up my alley, pardon the pun (it works better spoken). There were some beautiful shares. I also had the reminder that sometimes it's just best to listen and not have to give an answer when someone is upset and in need of comfort. That's a real challenge for me. The group of all women patients and a couple women caregivers had somewhat of a consensus this propensity for men to always have an answer for something is a male-related trait and can often be a shortcoming. I joyfully atoned for this to my mom and the other patients in the room; not on behalf of all men of course. My mom seemed very happy with my epiphany of an apology. She also seemed very proud when talking about my husband and I to the group.

I also realized how instrumental this blog is becoming for me right now. I know it would be really helpful to temper myself with my mom. Bite my lip and suck it up and/or find a better outlet for my stress. So perhaps this becomes my primary outlet to vent and share the challenges this situation is posing. It's not just the cancer. It's the everything. The uncertainty around their finances, their housing, etc. Speaking of housing, the buyer walked after their inspection of my mom's place. Easy come, easy go. We will find a great buyer for her house, this is just a minor setback.

Honestly I am more than somewhat resentful toward my mom. Of course not for her cancer. That would be insane. My upset is around her lack of retirement planning, her numerous poor life choices, including life "partner" and her unwillingness to be her mother's primary caregiver when my Grandma really needed her. Yet I'm gathering she expects so much of my husband and I. What were we going to do? NOT open our door to them?

I'm starting to second guess this whole home buying choice my husband and I made. I found this wonderful 55+ community about 10 minutes from our home. There's a semi-affordable bank owned home there. It's all on one level and it would be ideal for them. Together my mom and Al can afford this place on their own with their combined social security income. Then what happens when one of them passes? Honestly it may be Al before my mom, he's also in poor health. It's not just his mind, it's also his likely cancerous face sores, diabetes and prostate issues. Then there's his drinking, not quite like he's out of an episode of Mad Men. He is from that woebegone era.

After SCCA we went to Seattle Area Support Group's Christmas tree lot on Capitol Hill to get our Tannenbaum. Afterward we dropped Terry at his haircut appointment. Grabbed mom and Al sandwiches at QFC on 15th. Then went down to check out this housing prospect in Des Moines. Of course they loved it. Now that mom's home is still on the market, we cannot definitively count on those funds. Therefore, we put our home improvement projects on hold to come up with down payment, closing and improvement costs out of our pockets for such time as we can be reimbursed from my mom's net proceeds. The alternative is to wait until my mom's house sells and risk losing this place or trying to find something they like as much or more. I work in real estate locally. I've been looking, daily. There is little if anything I've seen that would appease them.

After we get home we discuss this together. They express to us they can really see themselves there, and feel strongly they would be happy living in that community. My husband and I acknowledge that it's so clearly the right fit for them. I express my concern over an increased level of anxiety having to pull together the funds and also be on the hook for this other home. Neither of them batted an eyelash. Do they think we're rolling in it? Or are they certain we want them in their own space badly enough that we'll run ourselves into the ground to make it happen? Again, resentment.

According to Al's son Mike, Al electively retired at age 54. He was going to use his investment wizardry to see him through. He lost everything. My mom entrusted him with her 25 percent of my dad's portfolio she was awarded as part of her divorce settlement. That's gone, too. So are the net proceeds from a lucrative California real estate investment sale of hers. We're talking tens of thousands, even hundreds of thousands of dollars. Poof. Just gone. Believe me, they have nothing to show for it. At least to the best of my knowledge nothing I'm aware of.

No matter, my husband and I agree we're moving forward. So I write up the offer last night, only to have the online transaction desk crash as I was completing the offer followed by my computer crashing. I'm working on not believing in signs. After my computer finally reboots, it takes a while for me to do it the old fashioned way, call up the individual forms, fill them in again, print them out, get them signed, scan and upload them. Then it dawns on me. This is a bank owned sale, and banks usually require wet signatures, even though they give electronic ones. So it's just as well the random transaction desk maintenance and computer crash occurred. Maybe this choice for my husband and I to put our dicks out on this place for my mom and her Al is divinely guided. Only time will tell.

My husband and mom put dinner on. Spaghetti. We sit down together and eat. Al regales us with another one of his glory days stories working for the Rosauer family in Spokane. I can't sit still. So many thoughts wandering through my head. Perhaps a sign it would be a good idea to engage in more meditation.

After dinner, my mom wants to watch some Criminal Minds. Her bestie Sally Rosauer got her into it. It's kind of a bit on the dark side for what my mom usually enjoys. I digress. Our TV is downstairs, a floor below our main living level, which is in what is now essentially our bedroom. I asked them to bring their flat screen TV when they came back out because I know it can receive a digital signal. Instead they bring out this small Magnivox box of an antique analog set.

So my mom was heading downstairs with a plate of coconut cream pie in one hand and a glass of water in the other. On her first step down she got off balance and dropped the glass of water down the open staircase. It makes a huge crash. Bigger yet was my mom's reaction to it. She whaled! It was as if someone had just murdered her first born in cold blood right before her very eyes. The sound she made was disturbing to the point I thought she was having a medical emergency.

My mom is standing at the top of the stairs, shaking and sobbing. Now as if she were a three year old who had their ice cream scoop roll of the cone and onto the ground. I first check in with her and she that she's physically OK. I quickly assess the situation, seeing both sets of stairs are sopping wet and there's glass everywhere. Al makes some noise from the basement where he's been watching TV and I hear him get close to the stairs. So I called down to him to let him know we've got it under control and to not come up as there were shards of glass everywhere. Al stays at bay. My mom is still standing at the top of the stairs crying with a small plate of coconut cream pie in her hand. So I, as gently as possible, usher her over to the living room, assure her it's all OK, invite her to sit and enjoy her pie and that we'll clean it up. No problem, no big deal. Accidents happen.

After we clean up the mess, I reminded my mom we had intended to setup a TV area for them upstairs so they wouldn't have to be going up and down and so that Terry and I could have a little space of our own in the house. My mom became even more upset with me saying that. She said she used to be able to do so much more. Worst of all, she said, she doesn't feel like a mom anymore.

Terry and I lovingly talked through everything with my mom before she went to bed. We both embraced and kissed her. Sometimes I think she has a really hard time separating the cancer from human imperfection. She is still very able bodied, unlike her sister who was recently diagnosed with and is suffering from Parkinson's.

And so concludes day two with the old folks under our roof. God, please give me the patience, understanding and compassion to gracefully work through this time in our lives ...

The first daze ...

I'm going full throttle on less than all cylinders, and at times I feel like my mom wants me to do more and/or go faster. I simply cannot.

The first day is what I expected, sort of. I scheduled office hours starting first thing Tuesday morning. Of course as I'm rushing to get out of the house I can feel my mom's pull. I had already written her a note and left a spare key out for them. Along with that I had printed a map to the IRS office. Terry had questioned whether my mom knows Bellevue. I replied, "Well, she knows her way to the mall. How do you think she got herself into financial trouble in the first place?" It was a joke in poor taste.

My mom had told me the IRS office was a priority for them, so Al could hopefully get some forgiveness and they could have a little more in their account each month. By noon I sent my mom a text about an appointment I made for us at this 55+ community I wanted to show them. The appointment was for the late afternoon. Plenty of time for them to deal with the IRS. I asked how it was going. At 1:45 p.m. I get a call from my mom. She tells me they haven't left the house yet. I stated that I had understood this was a priority for them. She said it took them a little longer today. They ended up going and I cancelled our appointment.

Al had a meltdown was why they hadn't left the house. He melted down at the IRS office, too. In the end, they didn't so much as lay a hand on him or blow a hair out of place. They advised him of some options, invited him to share with them the losses he incurred so they could offset the gains they're taxing him for.

As soon as they get home, which was before 5:00 p.m., Al says he wants to "suck down some scotch." And so he does. Stand up guy. Truly. My mom then explains how horrible a day it was, that Al was ready to go back to Coeur d'Alene to get all his paperwork to bring back. Now he wants to get his paperwork together?! Yeah, right. Likely another excuse to tuck his tail between his legs and bury his head in the sand. I call bullshit. Though I am told his Granddaughter Britti, who holds a graduate degree in counseling, does in fact believe he is suicidal. That is unfortunate, at the same time this is a person who stopped working at age 54. Now 22 years later his mind may be going. The mind is like a muscle. Without proper exercise it becomes weak. This is a path he has at the very least partially chosen for himself.

Aside from my mom getting emotional about Al's debacle, we had a delicious dinner of homemade turkey and dumplings with Thanksgiving leftovers. Oh, and apparently Al cracked our toilet seat. Not sure how that happened. Wait, this is just day one?

Yesterday's Issue

Josh emails me an apology:

"It was nice to finally meet you, unfortunate as the circumstance may be. First off, I want to apologize to you for having to witness/hear what took place yesterday between my grandpa and I. I feel badly that it upset your mom, my mom, and for the language that I used. However, I will not apologize for the message I was sending to Al. I've spoken to my Uncle Mike a few times and know how frustrated you and he both are regarding my grandpa's actions or lack thereof since Patty's diagnosis. I've always been the guy to defend my grandpa but honestly I'm so disappointed in him right now words can't really describe it. I don't need to explain to you as to why I lost my temper, I'm sure you have a good idea why.

Secondly, I will continue to be there to support Patty. She is such a kind and loving woman who is adored by everyone in my family. I hope the permanent move to Seattle brings some level of happiness for both her and my grandpa. Being around her best friends and you is where she belongs. Thank you for being there for her while some others get it together and do the same.
Respectfully, Josh

Sent from my iPhone"

I reply:

"> Thank you so much for your message, Josh! I understand perfectly well why you were/are so frustrated. I appreciate your apology, at the same time completely unnecessary as far as I'm concerned. Believe me, I've heard far worse. In some way I think you channelled and expresses the profound frustration most of us have been feeling around Al's lack of support and/or ability to assist my mom.
>
> For the better part of the last two decades I've watched my mom care for Al with all her being. She goes above and beyond, I'm sure you also know this to be true. Recently she acknowledged perhaps she has done too much for him over the years as he is completely reliant upon her as he becomes less and less self reliant. He has no awareness how he impacts my mom, from what I gather, and now more than ever she needs a helping hand.
>
> I know I'm preaching to the choice here. Seems like everyone sees this situation for what it is. My mom loves Al so much. He told me yesterday the same about my mom. Love is a behavior as much if not more than anything. He told me all the work he's been doing researching her cancer online. She has an oncologist, the very best available. She needs a partner who can listen to what is being asked and follow through, not another medical practitioner.
>
> My mom, bless her soul, is compassionate and empathetic to a fault. She sees how Al is regressing, and she's so disempowered around it. I think all of us are.
>
> When I first went out to get them in late July, Al was falling to pieces emotionally every five or 10 minutes. I took him aside to have a sympathetic heart-to-heart about how we have to remain strong and positive for my mom because every time she she's him get upset she feels horrible. That's counter to what benefits her health. I asked him to call on me or Mike or any family member if he needs to talk through things as to unburden my mom. I embraced him. He told my mom I yelled at him. So I found myself at a loss as to how to even talk with him rationally and have him understand the importance of what I was saying. That and I just don't have the relationship with him that you all do. I was even able to be loving toward him despite finding horse race bid sheets dated the previous day when I took out the trash. That's a whole separate can of worms.
>
> Since my mom relayed to Al that we're looking into single family housing here, and since I showed him a place that's workable in 55+ community near us, he seemed to get enthusiastic about the idea of coming over here.
>
> Overall, Al just isn't connecting the dots. I don't know if it's because he's being stubborn and childish or if he can no longer comprehend at the same level. The latter is actually more concerning because it will be much more difficult to address if it can even be addressed.
>
> I'm very solution oriented, and I feel strongly there has to be a way to, compassionately, get through to Al. I think one of the core underlying issues is he doesn't take care of himself. He won't see a Dr. He's told my mom on numerous occasions he thinks about taking his own life (like that's what a rational human tells a stage four cancer patient). The flip side of the coin is acknowledging being cause in the matter of one's own life. Taking responsibility. Realizing change is possible, and one can work through a problem.
>
> The right solution will present itself. I am optimistic when they are more settled, things will settle down. Being at their age and having so much uncertainty must be so difficult. Only time will tell how things go from here.
>
> From your below message I get that your heart is in exactly the right place. From what I gather about your family, you're all really close, which is awesome.
>
> The situation to this point could certainly have proceeded much smoother and more expeditiously if Al was fully on board and doing all my mom has asked of him. Either way, things are moving forward and we'll get them squared away.
>
> Let's all continue standing, productively, for them getting their shit together and their proverbial house in order. If there's anything more I can do, please let me know.
>
> All the best,"

He replies:

"Thank you for the response. We're on the same page and view the situation similarly. You are so right about everyone needing to stay supportive and positive. Both my grandpa and Patty need that. I hope he recognizes that it's now his turn to step up and take care of her. She's carried him for a long time, in more ways than one.

See you guys in a couple weeks! Josh"

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?