Street Punk Neurosis

The politest thing you could say about my cat Merlin is that he is a “wuss.” Bravery and Merlin are a complete contradiction in terms. Pixie on the other hand is the brave one. My Mom told everyone who would listen that Pixie was the brave one of the litter and came into the house while her siblings hid. Pixie is definitely the “alpha cat” in the household. I would like to try and say Merlin is a gentleman but unfortunately when a 17½ pound cat runs away from something that is 9 pounds and half his size coward tends to be more appropriate.

It is now three months since that horrible day when my brother came home from work and discovered Mom hadn’t slept in like we thought when we went to work that morning but had a fatal heart attack shortly after going to bed. Pixie stayed with Mom’s body until Mike came home and has avoided Mom’s bedroom ever since. In fact she spends little time downstairs and has taken over Merlin’s upstairs territory. At times it is hard to believe that it has been three months that Mom has been gone and at times it seems like just yesterday.

The stresses from those first few days seem to continue in new and different ways. At times I feel strong enough to stand them and at times I feel like I’m completely losing it. My brother and I pushed the biggest stress, cleaning out and fixing up the house, and selling it until next Spring. I couldn’t cope with it and the stresses of my job at the same time. The one thing I know for sure is that I want out of this little town and back to a larger city. I’ve been here six years caring for my Mom and the town’s people still seem to be surprised that I exist. Most of the cards and letters of consolation were addressed to my brother. No one in this small town cared that I was the caregiver and I was hurting too. I’m the outsider still and they have made it very clear I always will.

As Pixie came to grips with her grief at losing her “grandmother” she did what she had done at the very start. She looked around and decided that someone else was to be “her” person. Of course her person and slavery may be a bit mixed up in her mind. Mom had spoiled Pixie completely. Pixie wanted food she sat on the counter and demanded to be fed. Pixie wanted a nap on Mom’s lap then Mom sat there in the chair and held her for a couple of hours while she slept. I would come home from work and Mom would beg me to take her cat so she could get something done.

o be honest I spoiled Merlin but he at least knows that I have to work and do need some time to myself on the computer. Pixie seems to think every waking hour should be devoted to her. I am now supposed to be her person and lavish the attention that Mom did on her. She doesn’t seem to believe that Merlin counts. After all he had twelve years of being an only child and it is her turn. She chases Merlin away when I’m not watching her. Merlin has taken to leaving cat poop around the house in rooms where I frequent in order to try and mark those territories as his. I tried giving him his own litter box which he seemed to want at first but Pixie decided she liked that one instead. Finally at my wits end I took him to the Vet to make sure nothing was wrong with him. My Senior Citizen is very healthy but has “anger management” issues. The Vet has given me some medicine to help Merlin with the stress. In one of those life is funny moments it turns out to be the kitty version of what I’m taking to try and survive the stress overload I’m under.

So now I come into the kitty political wars. If I can negotiate a truce between these two I want the Nobel Peace Prize. In a way watching these two is like watching politics. On the one hand you have Merlin who was adopted at four weeks and never had to struggle. I’ve always taken care of him. He can be very needy and neurotic. On the other hand we have Pixie who in spite of the fact that my Mom called her a Princess is in reality a little street punk. She was born in the storage shed attached to our house. She decided that she wanted things better and pushed her way in. If Merlin could have an easy life then so can she. The difference is that she will fight for what she wants and Merlin won’t. As for myself I have a neurotic and a street punk and I love them both.

Love of a Child

One of the people I love most in the world is named Tristen. He is starting his Freshman year in high school. His mother is my niece although our relationship is really more of a mother daughter relationship. I am her Godmother and Godmother to all three of her children. Tristen is the middle child and has been diagnosed with Asperger’s. His hasn’t been an easy life but he has turned into the most incredible young man I have ever known. We are each other’s cheerleaders.

Berni and I are a lot alike and we talk frequently. Sometimes with three kids you need an adult who understands. She has a wonderful husband now but she and I are survivors of abusive marriages and we have a bond that will never be broken. I got my Geek started in science fiction conventions that I worked and even ran. Meeting some of the stars of Doctor Who, especially Tom Baker, is what got her the second date with her now husband.

Tristen for many years was misdiagnosed but his Mom refused to give up. She finally found someone who would listen and tell her what was really wrong with her oldest son. In the four years since she remarried Tristen has grown up enormously. He was able to go to Houston’s Space Camp and had a wonderful time. He is a total Geek and we had a conversation not long ago that went from Doctor Who to Torchwood to Star Trek to Star Wars to computers to the thousand and one uses for duct tape that we both love. For Christmas I’m getting him some of the McGuyver DVDs. I loved Mac and I’m sure Tristen will too.

It spite of all his problems he and I bonded from the very start. Often times when I’m down he will suddenly email me on Facebook or pass a message along to me from his Mom. Knowing how he has helped himself overcome serious problems is a source of inspiration to me. He loves Fantasy and my short story collection “Sean’s Stories”. He loves my art work especially ones with dragons. I sent him my two newest dragons. He loved them. His Mom and Step Dad, soon to be adopted Dad, got away by themselves for the first time since getting married for three days. Her biological Mom watched the kids. I was impressed by the short posts Tristen has made recently on Facebook.

"Only time will tell if we stand the test of time!"

"They are back! Unfortunately, now they have to face the chaos of our household, especially with the upcoming school year."

"Mom and Dad are currently out on their vacation, leaving us w/ Gramma alone. I wish them the best of vacations, and hope that gramma can survive Zack without the "Parent Buffer".

And after having a horrible few days at work and being home ill his response to my dragons made me feel much better and loved. You can’t beat the love of a child. They are our true resources and we need to improve everything from health, to schools, to the world we live in for them. On the Western dragon Tristen said: "I love it!” And on the Easter dragon he said:"I love it even more! the lilac background compliments the silver dragon perfectly!”

Time

Time is something that has fascinated man from the very first. Time is usually broken into past, present and future. It is hard sometimes to think of the past without thinking of “if only.” On the day Mom died, in that first moment of shock after my brother’s phone call, I remember saying that I should have gone home when Mom didn’t answer the phone. That I might have saved her. My boss held me and told me that I didn’t know that. My friend Suzette drove me home that day. Of course I now know that it wouldn’t have made any difference. Mom died in the early hours of the morning and it was instantaneous. Our past shapes our present and our present shapes our future. In looking through Mom’s photo albums today trying to find a picture for my niece I came upon these late 1800’s early 1900’s pictures of my Mom’s family.

There is a picture of my Great Grandmother and Grandfather Hughes. Did they ever wonder about the past when their families came over from Ireland? There are two pictures of my Great Grandfather Hensley, one taken at a Civil War Veterans reunion. Did he ever wonder why this nation had to tear itself apart in the Civil War? There is a picture of my Great Grandmother Hensley who was pure blooded Cherokee. She was adopted by a white family and raised as white. Did she ever wonder why her people’s land had been taken from them and why they thought she had to be raised as white? There is a picture of my Grandmother Hughes and two of her sisters. Did they wonder if there was a life for women that didn’t just consist of being a housewife?

Time. We exist in it. We fight with it. We dream in it. Sometimes we have to stop and look back and say I did the best I could in the past. I was the best caregiver I could be to my Mom. I know that the present is painful now but I also know that the future will ease the ache like it has eased the ache of Dad’s death. I just need to give myself time and in the annuals of time two months is such a short period. But right now in the present I realize I need to get these old pictures scanned into the computer or we will loose the images of that past. That past made my mother. I also have pictures from my Dad that need to be scanned too. In the past is my present and in the present I am making my future. That future will try and keep alive memories of the past.

Nightmares

“Pain makes man think. Thought makes man wise. Wisdom makes life endurable.” Teahouse of the August Moon

I am a theater person. It was my major in college much to my parents dismay. One of the first plays I was in was Teahouse of the August Moon and the quote above has always been with me. For people who think the arts are frivolous it is the arts that shape you and make you think. Pain hurts but it does make you think. Last night I had a nightmare that has shaken me so bad that even though I know I must I’m almost afraid to try and go to sleep. Thinking and writing about it may help me endure.

As many of you know I was the caregiver for my Mom these last six years. I gave up a job I loved and packed up my possessions and put them in storage because my Mom asked me to help her. My Mom never asked for help. She was always Mrs. “I can do it all without help thank you very much.” My Dad’s sudden death changed that and she realized how much she had depended on him and now needed some help herself. I was her “go to” person. Finally when things were changing for the worse on my job she took the plunge and asked me to move in with her because she needed help.

Mom had always been fairly healthy but with her family history she was a candidate for heart problems and when it hit it hit her without warning. She had a heart attack that almost killed her. I was in the throws of an abusive marriage at the time and my husband had made sure that there wasn’t enough money for me to fly home and help my Dad get through the difficult time of not knowing whether Mom was going to live or not. Mom pulled through and I fled my hell. Dad was supposed to hang in there until I could get back to the Midwest. I was to take over from him on tracing the family tree. He died of a sudden heart attack a month before I could get back. Five years later his wife asked me to come live with her. There were things only a daughter could do.

I have never regretted my decision to come here in spite of the pain that it caused. It was hard to see Mom deteriorate before my eyes knowing I could do nothing to stop her heart failing. It was a hard six years. They never quite prepare you for the heartache that comes from care giving. You become a caregiver when things have gone wrong and can’t be fixed. It is a mater of time and you don’t know how much time you will have. I had six years. Six years that ended with a call from my brother saying “Sis you have to come home right away. Mom is gone.”

It wasn’t supposed to end like this. I was supposed to be there for her to the end. She wasn’t supposed to have gone to bed and had a sudden heart attack leaving only her cat to be with her till the end. Her cat Pixie is now my cat Pixie. The little black rascal who brazenly walked in and realized she had a house full of suckers to take her in and make her their Little Princess. She didn’t care that Merlin the Magician didn’t want any competition. She was the smart one of the litter.

Although I have walked away from the Catholicism of my youth I have still retained the Celtic belief that after we die we will be rewarded. I still believe there is a Heaven. Although my Heaven is probably closer to the Simpson’s episode with Liam Neeson and is a place with drinking and boxing and step dancing and all the glorious fun that comes with my Celtic heritage. As I promised her when I said goodbye and that I would take care of Pixie I also felt that she would be in a place where she never had to suffer. She would be with my Dad and like the Dad I dream about she would be young and healthy. She wouldn’t be the thin bent woman she had become. She wouldn’t have bandages on her head from surgery to remove cancerous growths.

In last night’s dream Mom appeared and she had made it clear she was dead. I don’t remember what she was talking about but she collapsed on the floor. She was even thinner then she was at death. She was even less the 94 pounds she had become and she had the large bandage on her head from the surgery a few months ago and she was in pain

I refuse to believe that I went through all this pain and that she is still suffering. Damn it she has to be free from the pain and be happy. She was a good woman and I can’t believe she is still suffering. It isn’t right

I have to go to work tomorrow and for that I need to sleep. After all I now have two cats to support. I can only hope and yes pray that tonight’s sleep will be different. Pixie has been very subdued for a couple of days and I’m afraid she is plagued with nightmares too. She rushed in last night when I woke up crying to comfort me and to get comfort herself. Mom was a good woman and she deserves to be rewarded. I don’t know what triggered last night’s nightmare but I suspect that the battle to get the insurance company to repay the money they stole from Mom has a part in it. Right now though Pixie is crying and I need to go to her. We both loved Mom so much. She was as much a caregiver as I was and that is a lot to ask of a three year old cat.

United Healthcare Rips Off the Dead

The late Peter Finch in the movie “Network” said the immortal lines, “I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it any more.” That is how I feel right now and I want the world to know how United Healthcare rips off the dead. This is my story.

In April of this year my Mom got tired of paying the high premiums to United Healthcare for her secondary insurance to Medicare. She paid $153.50 a month for nothing. They hardly ever paid a dime on any of her bills. I finally convinced her to check out something else and we made arrangements to go with Banker’s Life. Banker’s Life informed United Healthcare of this and that as of June 1st Mom was changing her insurance. Mom died suddenly on May 26th. Since that time United Healthcare has taken out the June and July premiums for an insurance that was canceled on a woman they had been informed was dead.

I have faxed copies of the death certificate and emailed them over a half a dozen times. I have called continuously. I have been given the run around. Still no refund of the money. I filed charges on line with Indiana’s State Attorney General’s Office against United Healthcare a few minutes ago but I want to do more. I want people to know just how dishonest these people are. They have taken $307.00 from a dead woman’s account on insurance that she had canceled on the first part and when they knew she was deceased on the second part.

For those idiots who want to repeal the health care reform I promise you that you will have me at your throats letting the people you are trying to convince that reform is bad know that you are liars in cahoots with insurance companies who rip off the dead. It is hard enough emotionally to come home and see your mother dead with out having rip off artists stealing her money. I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it any more.

Stop And Smell The Roses

The last two months have been so difficult with trying to cope with Mom’s death. Knowing that her heart could go at any moment did not prepare me for her actually going. My brother and I have been pushing ourselves trying to get everything done now. Last night we came to the realization that we needed to give ourselves time. I have been frustrated because I couldn’t force myself to go through Mom’s clothes. I couldn’t seem to find the energy to go through the closets and drawers and everything that had accumulated over the last few years not only from Mom but of Dad’s things too. We just couldn’t do it.

Last night Mike and I decided to concentrate on getting through the winter here and this Spring we can get the house ready to sell, We are going to give ourselves the time we need to heal. I am going to concentrate on giving Merlin and Pixie the time they need to heal. We are going to stop and smell the roses.

Merlin and Pixie are in the process of trying to come to an agreement on sharing Mommy. It is a reluctant agreement on their parts because they both want to be an only child and have me to themselves. Merlin has decided since I finally figured out that he wanted his own litter box that he will use it and not the bed or rugs to go on. He and Pixie have been switching places with Pixie being upstairs much of the time and he is taking over the downstairs. They share the bed time with me. In time Pixie may even realize that I’m not going to leave her a three in the morning and will let me sleep in.

It was a difficult realization that I couldn’t keep going the way I have been. For my sake and for the cats sake I need to just pull back and take it easy. After being a caregiver for six years I need to give some care to myself.

Being Alive

One of the things I have always loved is photography. It was something that brought me close to my Mom. I would take off for a half hour or so with my digital camera and come back and process the pictures on my computer and then print the best out for my Mom. Occasionally she would ask me to photograph something special for her. Today is one of those beautiful days that makes you glad you are alive. These pictures are from this morning’s walk and are dedicated to Mom who would have loved them.