Bad Deja-Vu

My husbands Grandmother is in her late 70’s and I love her dearly.  I do  not have a living Grandmother and really only knew one Grandparent (Grandmother) but have only negative memories of her..but I digress.  Anyway, Granny (as we call Steves Grandmother) fell and dislocated her hip and was taken to the hospital for surgery or to have her hip popped back in.  That’s really nothing, right?  Before I get into why the title, I must add that a while back this happened and she refused hip replacement surgery when she would have been able to have it for whatever reason and now it is to late..we think.  Anyway, they popped the hip back in and now have found various other problems.  Kidney problems, Bladder type problems, Maybe some sort of  thing under her breast, Blood sugar fluctuating, etc..  Most everything she goes through after it is described, Steve says, “That’s what happened to Authoress mom.”  (Call me that if you must call me anything, please).  She is being drugged up in an Assisted Living/Senior/Rehab Facility and her family wonders if she will come home.  Her children are already getting together to go over her finances, etc. just in case and also because if she does come home they will need to get someone to come help a few times a week to get her showered, dressed, etc.  I don’t like discussing this when the subject comes up.  Granny is a very strong woman.  I’ve asked God about the timing on this one.
  I haven’t visited my friend in the Senior Living Facility my mothe was in since mom died but I need to go see her and she is in her mid 90’s.  I will visit soon for Christmas.. however I am afraid of who may greet me with what news there when I arrive.  God supposedly does not give you more then you can handle..and this is more Steves side of the family but….

  Thanksgiving has passed and I did not speak with anyone on my side of the family.  I’m not sure we would have necessarily done anything anyway however, if my mother were here Steve and I would have gone and visited her and Jim.  Thanksgiving is not really the holdiay for phone calls as that is more at Christmas so we will see how that goes.  I was invited to one sisters who lives in AZ and we appreciate the invite however we are not ready to go that far at this time.  What with Steve having O/T coming up and me and my stupid doctor appointments. 

   As you can probably tell, I have changed my background a bit on this.  I am going to keep playing with it until I find what I am comfortable with.  I’ve decided since I love the holiday season and Christmas is my favorite I would try to shed just a little light on this blog.

  I am really not sure how much this Grief Group is going to help me or if I can or will just push my feelings to the back of my mind and one day have a break-down of sorts (crying, etc..) hopefully not embarrassing my husband to much.  Just as my mothers Surge-Of- Energy stage lasted a long time so might I be stuck in this feeling of blankness, nothingness, evasiveness? numbness, Apathy.       

Alway’s Knew I’m Still Different

According to good old Mirriam Webster (Yes, some of us still read books.  We write them too but that is another topic., I have Apathy.
Apathy-Loss of Interest, Loss of Emotion. 
There ya go. I don’t have least not for this anymore.  My mind is really blank.  What’s worse is I can’t cry or feel anything when I hear other people’s stories.  I’m sitting in the Grief Group listening to people talk about their relatives being shot or tragic acidents..and a few like mine and everyone is passing around the tissue box.  Not me.  Don’t need it.  So weird.  And it’s obviously the 2nd one.  How many people (aside from some men) would really have loss of emotion at the death of their mother.

  “The results showed that you have two changes that would explain your Propionic Acidemia.  One of the changes have been seen in other people with a more mild form of the disorder, and the other mutation has never been seen before.”
 So, this comes as part of an e-mail today from a doctor at UCLA in regards to a disease I was born with.  I’ve been having a lot of health problems lately and we don’t know if any are PA related.  Anyway, I’m like, Wow!, I should call mom and tell her.  If had mom been in the home she probably would not have understood anyway..but my mind flashed back to when she was normal (not sick) and lived in the mobile home and I’m sure my father would have had some interesting wisecrack as well.

The Facilitator of the Grief Group made us pins (badges?) to wear or hang somewhere saying, “BPWMIAAGP…Be Patient With Me, I Am A Grieving Person.  While a wonderful gesture I guess.  I’m sure not wearing that while walking down the streeet.  Next you will see badges like “It’s Not My Fault, I’m On PMS.” and am I supposed to hang it where I can remind myself that I am grieving (No, really?) or that I need to be patient with myself? or do I hang it somewhere where my husband can see it and keep having him get annoyed and think I am using that as an excuse for things.

Lastly so as not to bore you to much on this one, I went to KOHL,S today and there was this lady in front of me at the Check-Out that looked almost exactly like my mother from behind.  She had the same outfit on that mom would have worn and the same hair style but…she was fatter.  My mother has always been thin
So wait, does thjat take our Apathy theory right out the window?  If all these people I’m seeing are actually related somehow then we have a really large family. Just taking a stab at what I’ll call “Apathetic Humor”.   

1st Grief Group Mtg

I’m supposed to cry.  That what the Facilitator said.  We should have had a rough week.  Supposedly the first two weeks of the Grief Group are rough because you get memories and it’s good to break down.  I can’t cry.  I have no idea why.  With everyone else close to me I think I have.  I was a Daddy’s Girl and I know I cried for him.  When he passed away..I even stopped writing for a long time.  I used to write poetry.  I still have a book of poems I’d written years ago but for some reason I stopped after dad passed.

 Speaking of dad, this is scary.  In the OC Register the other day there was a picture on the front page of some people leaving a Cruise Ship that had had problems and had to be towed ashore.  The article was actually about a woman they interviewed.  However, right behind her was a man..walking.  Dad?  Seriously, it looked like dad.  I looked at that picktrue four – five times.  Who was he?  Of course, dad had a toupee I just remembered.  I guess anyone can buy the same one of those.  But the facial features and the upper body.. it took a lot to stop looking at that and thinking weird impossible thoughts.  A distant relative?  Who the heck was he?

   Back to grief and crying.  So, I can’t do it.  Whatever.  Oh, I learned Grief has different stages.  I guess that makes sense because so does abuse (okay, abuse has different types) I’m not sure exactly what stage I’m in but I guess since I did it all I am supposedly postponing my grief.  Yeah, Okay.  Don’t believe that one.

   It will be good to talk to others going through the same feelings I am however I wonder how much we will open up to each other.  Plus, I think I mentioned the Facilitator as being a much older gentlemen.  Not sure that will make for  a real comfortable environment.  He said he is not a Doctor nor a Licensed Therapist..just the Facilitator.  So I guess that means after I finish this group and feel better  I could lead a group like this too?   

A Reason

I’ve decided to write a blog to sort out how I feel and what I think about a lot of things; hence the title, Emotiofeel.  Emotional and Feelings..I made it up.  I have no idea where I will go with this but I suppose I can start with current events which is the death of my mother.  I suppose this is a brief description of her.  I’m not sure exactly what it is…but, it is a beginning so here it is:

My mother, the woman who was alway’s negative and ruled by guilt, the woman who was the devout Roman-Catholic who went to church every Sunday and worried so much about how the public saw her, the woman who compared her family to her friends families all the time because she so wanted to live like The Waltons.  My mother, the woman who fought for my life when I was young and sickly and could have just let me go since she did have 3 healthy children at one docotr or nurse pointed out to her.  My mother, the woman I was there for until the end, the woman, I visited most every day, went to her doctor appointments and listened to her scream at me about how angry she was about being moved from her mobile home while in the doctors offices waiting rooms, the woman who threw dramatic fits in the street or whereever if it would help to get what she wanted and scream, “If you do, I’ll kill myself!!”  , the woman who in the end I helped to dress and toilet before moving her into a home and once moved I visited and looked into her eyes which didn;t really see me anymore, the woman who knew me one second but called me by my sisters name the next..  My mother, the woman whose body I stayed alone with while waiting for someone to come talk to me about the Mortuary etc…  The same woman who I had a whole one-sided conversation with and whose cheek I kissed while knowing at the time that she was already gone but believing she could hear me when I said I love her and Good-Bye