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Wednesday, February 21, 2007

And just like that, I exploded

I am really not sure how much longer I will be able to deal with my mother. She casually mentions yesterday at about, oh, 7 PM or so that she needs blood work before her doctor's appt that is this coming Monday. Mmmmhmmmm. Well, I will just gloss over the fact that she neglected to mention this Monday WHEN I WAS OFF. Fine. Oh, she also needs an MRI. Fab. So cue to this morning when I got up at 5:30 AM. Let me repeat.

5:30 AM. I don't do mornings, y'all. My schedule is 10 AM - 6 PM for a reason. Ya feel me? I have loathed mornings since I was just a wee girl with pigtails and knee socks, ok? I can get up if need be but I am not happy about it and being that I don't do coffee in the morning, or ever for that matter, I am just not a happy girl.

The thing is that the blood drawing place does not take appointments. You kinda have to go and deal with whatever line is in front of you. So we make the decision (read: I made the decision) to be there at 7 when they open because if you want any longer than that, it is really a crap shoot as to how long you may endure of a wait. Not to mention, we still had to also get the MRI, that up until about 45 minutes ago, I thought was also first come, first served.

Oh, silly silly girl, of course not. But I digress.

We get to the blood place and are a little early so once we see some guy go up and go in, she goes to the door. Pulls it, locked. Well, mom is not one to take the motherfucking bull by the horns and think quietly to herself, "Well, that man went in so surely they are open as it is also after 7 AM." No, she comes back to my car with this very disgusted look because of course, clearly none of this is her fault. The fact that we had to get up at the ass crack, the fact that she neglected to inform me of the blood drawing/MRI that HAD TO BE DONE BEFORE THE NEXT APPT THAT IS MONDAY, the fact that there was a fucking doorbell next to the door. No, SFG, that is not her fault. I very calmly say "There is a doorbell. Go ring it." Sigh, she exhales. At this point, my blood pressure did its first spike. Just. Fucking. GO.

A nurse comes to the door and lets her in and unlocks the door so that there is no more of this yanking on a locked door and disgusted expressions on people like my mother. She comes out and lets me know that there are 2 people in front of her and then her. Fabulous. I am reading my book (Running with Scissors - which I just finished - fabulous book - go buy right now). She strolls out about 7:20 and is all done. Oh, but wait. Not quite. You see, she was getting blood drawn for 2 separate doctors. The neurologist whose appt she has this coming Monday and then her PCP whose appt is the following Monday. (Yes, you read that right. My next two days off will be spent toting my mother around to the doctor.) Before her ass even hits the seat, she sighs with the sound of disgust again. I, who just have no patience for theatrics any time of day, but particularly before 8 AM, flatly said "What?" Well, Dr. McFucktard did not check what he wanted tested so only Dr. McRude got blood drawn for him. OK, so there is one appt that we just HAD to get up for that was a complete waste of my GOD DAMNED TIME. Second BP spike occurred right about then.

So we drive around the corner for the next appt which is for the MRI. Please recall that I mentioned a bit ago that the MRI place was like the blood draw place in that you don't make an appt. You just go and basically wait until you are called. I figured if we were there for 8 o'clock, surely she can be in and out in enough time for me to come home and be ready to work by 10 o'clock. She goes in and is in there long enough that I figure she must be getting herself scanned and pumped with radiation that will make her glow. I realize I have to pee. And when I have to pee, I will not be denied. My bladder has two settings - empty and full, must go right fucking now. I get out of the car and figure they surely have a potty in the MRI place, right? As I am rounding the corner, I almost collide with my mother with, yes, you guessed it, another look of disgust. Again, I am just not in the mood for her litany of reasons as to why this is not her fault and how life is just so hard for her, so I spit out "What?" again. She replies "I did not get the MRI - I just made the appt." For Monday. The same Monday that I am having to already take her to one appt. And one appt is for 11 AM and the other is 2:45. So thanks, Mom. You not only managed to completely fuck up the afternoon of my day off, we are now into the morning hours of a truly fucked up day. THANK YOU. I want to make clear right here and now before you all think I am the biggest bitch ever (which I am, but whatever). I have asked her multiple times to make the appts in the morning. I want them done and overwith. We make them with enough advanced notice that this should not be an issue. And yet, here we are 11 AM and 2:45 PM. Mmmmhmmm.

The sad thing about all of this is that I knew all of this was coming. I knew it. The woman can not just do something, be done and that's a wrap. No. It has to be multiple steps. It has to be difficult. For everyone involved. Not just her. Hell no. She likes to share the wealth of the annoyances. I tell her that I needed to stop at W*lgreen's and pick up a few things. We manage to do that without her burning the damn store down. We leave and she asks me if we can stop at the vet's office to get cat food for her cat who can't have regular food because he gets some sort of weird stone deal that blocks his piss shoot. (Again, the cat has to have issues, right?) She goes in and I call the hubs to vent briefly because I have a pressure release valve and it's called yelling and venting. If I don't decompress a little bit before she comes out of the vet's office, I can promise you I'd have driven straight thru their plate glass window with a maniacal grin on my face.

She comes out with a huge bag of food and hoists it in the back of my car. We manage again to drive home in one piece and I have not screamed, yelled, rolled my eyes, beaten her to death with her cane (that she does not need). We get home and one final nail in my coffin of sanity is drilled in with her bullshit. I hear her voice behind me as I am unlocking the door. "Awwww, I can't believe it." Again, to diffuse her hysterics, I do the "What?" again. The food is canine.

Please keep in mind that I am dealing with all of this before 9 AM, without the aid of Diet Coke and pizza being that I am now 9 hours into Lent. I promise you I will be on drugs by Easter. Or on trial for murder. Either or.

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Elizabeth at 9:53 AM



at 10:56 AM Blogger Kami said...


That sounds like fun, SFG.

And I was first, bitches.

at 11:14 AM Blogger Pissy Britches said...

Can't you just lock her in her bedroom or something.
Fo' real.
Oh and I am SECOND bitches.

at 12:15 PM Blogger Finelly said...

You crack me up SFG! Sadly enough tho, I see myself in your spot soon with my own mother. It's coming, I just know it. Theatrics won't change much from what you describe either.

at 1:39 PM Blogger Carrie said...

Lawdy. I could not deal with all that before noon. Geez.

Pizza and diet coke - dang girl, go for the gold. Well, I guess that is the point... :P

at 1:46 PM Blogger FutureFoodTVStar said...

My mom is currently taking care of BOTH of her parents, doing all their shopping, driving, etc. My dad tries to help when his work schedule allows & my aunt does when she is in town.

I just hope she learns from this experience cause I can totally see me taking care of her some day.

Your account, althought completely frustrating... totally cracked me up.

at 1:59 PM Blogger Shell said...

I couple of valium in her drink will make the rest of your day soooo much better.

I still haven't decided what to give up for lent...guess it's not chocolate as I just ate some M&M's.

at 11:19 AM Blogger Tammy said...

You lasted a hell of a lot longer than I would have.

at 1:03 PM Blogger Cara said...

Girl, let me just say that you are a freaking saint. I would have throttled my mother if she acted like that. You know what you should get her for her birthday? A bus pass!

at 10:04 AM Blogger Sheri & SuZan said...

Oh my mom always knew how to push my buttons; and push them she did...over and over and fucking over again!

I feel your pain.


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