Suicide by grocery

So it dawned on me…as much as I give dad shit about screwing around with the renal diet – I sorta do the same.  Right now I am just lucky enough that my body bounces back from the poisons faster.  Let’s face it the way dad salted things he didn’t just get 69 years out of salting food – he’s probably salted a few life times worth.

If you haven’t had to start being a parent to your parents yet – Good Luck!  I’ve decided it does indeed close the loop on my motherhood experience needs. The cats totally have the whole baby through pre-teen phase down. There’s the crying and vocabulary that you have no idea what it means at first…and one day you greet a co-worker with cheek clicks and patting your leg (While they have no idea you are trying to hustle them up faster).  You have all sorts of firsts: playing in the snow, climbing the Christmas tree, baths, haircuts, food likes & dislikes.  Eventually you get to the boundary pushing phase: invest in plastic mattress covers.  I’m just sayin’

Then they mature  a bit- but they still hover between “I want your approval” and “Can I claim all before me as mine? Ask forgiveness, not permission!”

Parents on the other hand normally* are mature.

I’m putting the * in ’cause I ‘ve met adults that weren’t mature, had kids, and still never grew-up.  My folks weren’t like that.  I can offer no insight there.  I was lucky.  If you find yourself the adult care giver of a parent who never did grow up, I’m sorry.

Back to me being sorta funny about some morbid crap 😀

So when you have a parent who’s got a new illness you try to help them figure it all out. You find out what you need to do to make it better, make it not get worse, etc.  You try to treat them with respect. Don’t talk down to them. Provide them with the tools & resources to make it easier. You go grocery shopping for 3 hours a week looking at every label in a food section at one store to try to find some alternatives for the things they like.  Then you do the same thing the next week at a different store. They are your parent, you want them happy and having a fulfilling life.  Then you find out the son-of-a-gun ate a caramel apple “because it was going to go bad.”

Never mind the 5 lbs of Honeycrisp apples on the table – let’s worry about the one you should not eat as it will destroy your kidneys.

Serenity Now!!!!!

So as much crap as I give dad, I’m due some mirror time.  I require 2 mental health meds, 2 shrinks and a GP: and I still can’t change my diet as radically as he needs to. The difference is – mine has not put me in the hospital – yet. His allowed him 10 days between hospital visits.

Yesterday for lunch he decided to make noodles with sauce, since he had something similar in the hospital. This is where this reverse parenting gets weird. I’ve told him a dozen times – read the mother fucking labels!!!!! Did he? He claims no.  Part of me wishes he was lying about that, and that he knew full well that this was suicide by Lipton Noodle. Then at least you are dealing with a mature being capable of making the decision to say “fuck it, I want this, if dialysis comes sooner it was worth it.” When they lay that line on you about, “I had something similar and figured it’d be the same,” you won’t know if you should smack* them for not listening to you or for being childish.

* I DO NOT ADVOCATE ELDERLY ABUSE. I use strong phrasing to express my level of passion. No matter how crazy dad may drive me – I don’t hit him, threaten him with a pillow, withhold any living necessity. I may delay getting internet set up for Facebook gaming. I make make mean comments about suicide by caramel apple – but his life is not in any jeopardy at my hands. He does enough by himself thankyouverymuch.

It’s a tough line.  You want to believe your parent isn’t really possibly trying to manipulate you.

(I found out about the noodles because he asked for fried chicken for dinner, when questioned on what he ate that day he mentioned pasta with sauce – I knew the hubby was making it the next day for dinner, so to make sure there would be enough of the special sauce – that I have to drive 40 mins for -yea renal diet! I asked which sauce)

he said,” like an Alfredo”

“What?  We don’t have any Alfredo sauce in the house”

“Yeah, there are those Lipton noodles with sauce.”

“OMG. You did not eat that?”

“It’s just like at the hospital.”

“No it’s not.  Did you read the label?”

“No.”

“Why didn’t you read the label?”

Let’s face it that was a no-win question. Short of “wolverines stole my magnifying lens”, I was going to be disappointed.  Dad’s don’t often seek out disappointing their kids.  A co-worker offered the curious question of has he lost the will to live. It’s a good question, but I’m sure as shit not ready to come out and ask it.

So that one aside why not read the label:

Doesn’t know how.

Refuses to learn.

Lazy.

Doesn’t care about the outcome.

Doesn’t think there will be a consequence.

Believes that if he can seem helpless enough he will get more attention.*

* that’s my fear. The problem is that all of this whole congestive heart failure episode is occurring 8 months after the renal failure episode…and during the time in which I am working 2 jobs.

I was lucky, I was saved tedious hours of job hunting and was offered my dream job, with my current company. For 2 and half months I need to work two jobs in tandem while the old job is transitioned away and the new one ramps up. Then dad starts shenanigans. Alright so for surgeries & things I take time off, I do remote work until midnight and I make shit work. He fights everyone to get home as soon as possible – selling all of them that he’ll heel better there.

He starts off getting better – I continue 14 hour days. He starts acting more geriatric, I ask more questions and try to not berate or treat him like a child. The decline picks up pace – I get shorter tempered in my line of questioning. The questions change from “Did Joe eat a caramel apple?” to “Why are you not using your unsalted butter?”

The problem is the next 8 weeks mean me getting my dream job – we are talking my equivalent to Barbie as President- she’s been gunning for that for a long time.  Would you put that in jeopardy for someone intentionally fucking around? Gosh I hope not. What do you do when they aren’t doing it on purpose?  What do you do when you can’t tell? See parents can be just like teenagers. Right now I take it day by day.

Some day’s he has a nice daughter, who understands how hard these changes are and she sympathizes.

Some day’s he has a daughter who cares enough to try tough love and fight for him to get better at any cost.

Some day’s he has a daughter who’s at her wits end and can’t even take care of herself.

Maybe kids would have prepared me for this better…

8 9 2011

Things could be better. They improved in one way and worsened in another.

Work: Career Suicide. I got pushed by a team member on the big Staples project for about a half hour on a conference call. I ended up crying, I tried to keep it together but it was a lot of verbal attack. A lot of political things occurred and then I was told I was no longer the PM on the project. TO which I was greatly relieved. Apparently voicing it within the department was wrong. I still maintain it was the right decision, my boss on the other hand is very upset that my make lemonade attitude was visible. Apparently I am to wallow in my failure publicly. So that’s kind of killed my self-esteem. I have now started working on my resume. My current boss is not a good mentor, and I think that’s what I need.

School: The class is over. I have passed. It was a learning experience on multiple levels: I drowned myself with too many responsibilities this summer. Until work is under control I am going to back off of the added stress.

Health: BP continues to be the huge issue. I have again committed to doing the daily readings. I have not had a chance to get back into the gym yet. I am hoping tomorrow night perhaps. (That’s when school was).

Eating has ebbed and flowed – some good days, some bad. The bad though are not as bad as I historically was. I have gotten better about not eating multiple meals to make folks happy. I do however still have a dessert once a day. I need to get back on tracking. Can still e-mail you with that?

SO emotionally feeling like a failure since I base so much of my self esteem on work. Not happy about having piled so much on myself this summer. I actually told the husband the next time he sees me doing something like this he is to tell me. I will continue to put one foot in front of the other. I think my boss is wrong about the wallowing in failure in public, but I will do what I can to appease him without causing long term issues for myself.

SO that sucked . . . and not in the good way

So for my birthday I had hoped to write about what I learned and how I had grown in the last year.  Instead I got called out professionally on a conference call about me not knowing what I am doing.

So I got to sob…near hysterics, try to keep it together until I could end the call. So I am not going to get support from my side, and not from theirs. OK then.  I talked it over with Joe, his recommendation is to go at it like a bitch. In the back of my head I think that really might be the only way.  I mean I’m asked to lead something I know nothing about, and when I try to ask what the next steps are – folks only tell me about the next step.  Makes it damn near impossible to build a plan when you don’t know the components. Apparently folks feel I don’t need to know them to have them included in the plan – yes, they want me to psychically know we need to have them in the plan even though I don’t know the action item exists.  Ain’t that a bitch? So I’ll try it.

I sent out my list of demands this morning and got back 1 out of the 4 responses back I was looking to get. And his was half-assed, as per usual, it’s only about the one due Friday. I asked for 15, I got 1. WTF.  I’ll try again tomorrow with him.

In other birthday “fun”: Dad left a message at work about a funeral going on on Saturday. A) WTF  B) really on my birthday? C) crap I had school plans.

So We went to the memorial.  It was cool. He had been dad’s 1st cousin. I got to meet dad’s only living first cousin.  They got to see each other for the first time since they were really, really, little.  One of my second cousins (I think – she’s the daughter of one of dad’s first cousins) is really into genealogy, and she lives in the area.  Maybe I can finally have a bit of a family again.

Okay so for my birthday I got:

1 funeral

1 work bitch slap

0 flowers

0 presents from the hubby

2 awesome nights

At Thursday open knit I got to have dad & hubby bring cake.  So the girls got to meet dad. Dad has now mentioned about going too 0_O

Friday night, after the suckiest afternoon on record, the knit girls took me out for dinner. It was awesome. I got to laugh and smile. I still had a migraine from the sobbing, but I took some ibuprofen and slept it off.

My confidence is nill. So for now, it’s time to fake it and get shit done.

Stupid, Stupid, Stupid.

I stopped to buy Liz her birthday candy this morning and allowed myself to believe that I could handle buying my favorite chocolate covered licorice AND not loose all focus.

I am going to attempt to eat my dutiful oatmeal…and ignore the damn candy.

This is why faeries don’t hang around Fangtasia: Too Much Temptation! Gah.

Hello world!

So here’s the deal: I have no stick-to-it-tive-ness.  None, nada. Zero, ziltch.  In addition to that flaw I am at an unhealthy overage of weight & a hoarder. Oh, and dermatillomania.  So in writing I am a pretty gross person.  Most folks who know me don’t see all of the weight ( I do wear it very well). But it makes me unhappy – so you’d think that would be motivational right? Yeah, see that’s where my broken stick-to-it comes into play. Ever chasing the momentary happy, ignoring the work to get to the bigger, more everlasting happy.  Even as I write this: I am avoiding work AND school work…oh and the gym too.

So the thing I’ve been joking about in my head lately: What would Sookie do? She’s always cleaning and tidying up, which lord knows my house could use.  What would amnesiac Eric say about me wanting to eat a second candy bar in 20 mins? So here goes nothing…I will try having imaginary friends as a support group.