Home alone II

One afternoon we sat in the kitchen for about an hour talking about the fact that she can no longer live alone among other things. Each time we talked I tried to think up a new way to explain things to her, some new example or an analogy that would finally make her understand. I reminded her that she was always talking about “God this” and “God that” so maybe now was a time to lean on Him for strength if she needed help. I thought was a good way to go, a solid line of reasoning that would help-it did not.

Another approach was: “Remember how you always talk about how grandma was when she got older and needed help? Remember how she inconvenienced all her children by being selfish and not doing what her kids suggested?”

“Well, that’s what you’re doing”, I told her, “You’re being just like grandma and making things difficult for us by seeing only what you want and not what’s best for everybody involved.”

While she agreed that grandma was a pain in the ass she didn’t see that that situation had anything to do with her (Miss Cathy logic).

Frustrated, I tried another tact, “Maybe you can think of it this way”, I tried once more to explain,” You wanted a security system because you’d been robbed so we got one installed, and that totally makes sense but there’s no guarantee that someone will try to rob you again but you feel safer knowing that you have the alarm as a deterrent “just in case”.

“Well”, I continued, “think of going to Tony’s like the security system-you’ve had two major falls while you were here alone and you started what could have been a fire in the kitchen that I had to deal with because you got flustered. If you’re over at Tony’s and something happened there would be somebody there to help-‘”just in case.”

Sometimes I thought I was getting through to her but it obviously didn’t last for long. More often than not we’d end the conversation with her saying that she was “glad we talked” , that talking was important because it “cleared things up and you could get questions answered”. She also said she would try to “go along” with what we’d decided, knowing that it was done “out of love for her” and although she didn’t agree she’d acquiesce.

So, while she might accept what I was saying for a day or two she’d always seem to come full circle and ask, “ If I’m doing better I just don’t see why I can’t stay in my own home-alone.” “I just don’t want to be a burden on anybody.”

“You’re not a burden mom, “ I said,” Tony, Suemi and I have all accepted that this is a part of our lives now so we’re ready to do what needs to be done. The only time you feel like a burden to me is when you fight us after we all talk and come up with a plan that works for all of us.”
“Remember when we first started talking about all this at the beginning of the year, we agreed that in order for this to work it would require sacrifice from everybody. Well, Tony’s doing his part, Suemi is doing hers and I damn sure am doing mine-all we’re asking you to sacrifice is to Not be home alone for less than one week and you don’t seem to want to do that. At some point you’re going to have to sit with yourself in a quiet moment and accept the fact that you can never live alone again, for the rest of your life.”

Round and round we went, each time she seemed more deflated in her defeat. I, on the other hand hardly felt the victor-I hadn’t “won” anything, more and more I felt like the warden to her prisoner.

“You just don’t know what it’s like to be in somebody else’s house, not around your own things,” she said,” can’t use the stove because it’s gas as ‘I’m used to electric, can’t use the remote control on the TV because its too complicated, can’t open this door because it broken and you have to turn the lock a certain way, gotta climb up and down the stairs to go to the bathroom AND to sleep at night.”

On and on she went listing what to her felt like I don’t know what-slights? Injustices? Inconveniences? Just listening t o her talk about “other people” when it’s her son’s home she’s describing made me all the more sad and mad. She was obviously unhappy and in her mind she really feels as though she’s being punished or denied something but I was also mad at her for being so goddamned selfish and ungrateful. Nobody was dragging her off to the camps during WWII.

“Well,” she said during what was to be our last conversation on the matter just a couple days before I drove her over to Treblinka (I mean Tony’s) “I wouldn’t be a bother anymore if I killed myself.”

“Wow!” was the only thing I could say. I simultaneously thought and said, “I cannot believe you just said that. I’m can only laugh and think that you’re making a joke because if you’re serious I don’t know how to respond.”

“Are you serious about wanting to kill yourself? Are you that unhappy? I don’t know you were that depressed; the whole point of my being here was so that you could enjoy the time you have left before you get really ill. If you’re not happy then what’s the point?”

“Well, I could,” she said.

“Yeah, well you could and if you did don’t look for me to try to pump out your stomach or do anything heroic. If that’s a choice you make I’m not going to try to stop you.”

“Good, you can’t do anything anyway if it’s something I wanted to do.” She said.

“Wow!”

Sometimes, I just don’t know what to think or what to do with her. I wanted to ask her if she wanted to talk to someone, a shrink maybe but I didn’t. Part of me didn’t want to “play” into this suicide business if it was ploy to manipulate me into getting her way (and I’m pretty sure it was because an hour later she was having a snack in the living room as if nothing had been said) and if it was sincere then I need to find a way to approach this in the right way.