I heard Miss Cathy calling my name before I saw her in the hallway outside my room so I went out to see what she wanted. She was clearly upset, about what I did not know but I followed her into the kitchen. On the way she told me that she needed help opening some cans because she “couldn’t get the fucking can opener to work” and she was “just about ready to throw the thing out the window.” Judging by how upset she was you'd have thought she was just told she had to go over to my brother's house to live.
I asked her why she didn’t come get me “before” she tried to open the cans herself but she had no answer, saying instead,” I don’t know what’s wrong with “that” thing, it just won’t work right.” The cans sat on the counter, each with several puncture marks along the lids, looking like victims of a circular stabbing.
She was angry, agitated and started to spiral down so now was not the time for me to remind her that we’ve been here before. What I needed to do was calm her down first and then deal with the situation. For whatever reasons the simple task of opening a can with a manual or electric opener was a difficult for her. Seeing her frustration time and again (and witnessing her break two can openers already) I had talked to her and we decided (or so I thought) that she would ask me to open whatever cans she needed for cooking and she would give up trying to open the cans herself.
These are the moments that remind me that a) I’m needed here and 2) I need to take a breath and carefully consider what I say before I respond to her.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t channeling the Buddha soon enough because when she said,” I don’t want to use that thing, I’m going to go and get a new one.” I said, “You do that. YOU go right out and buy another one. You’ve broken two already and there was nothing wrong with either of them before you got a hold of them! Maybe, just maybe it’s you and not the openers that’s the problem.” Finished with my rant, I calmed down, opened the three cans she needed for cooking and went back to my room.
I’d planned on running some errands anyway so this felt like just as good a time as any so I changed and out I went; to get some fresh air, some things I needed and some time away from the apartment.
I thought a lot about “what the fuck just happened” while I was out and I came to the conclusion that she must have been tired after her outing earlier with Adele and that was why she couldn’t use the can opener properly. They had gone out shopping and to the Beauty Parlor so that’s a “big” day for her and I should have known she’d be tired afterward (just like our outings to the big grocery store once every week or so), and with being tired sometimes comes a little confusion and being quick to anger out of frustration.
I knew that and yet I still engaged. I shouldn’t have left the way I did but I went anyway. I don’t think it’s a good idea (or responsible) to leave her that way (agitated and upset). It “could” have been dangerous, and she was cooking after all-but nothing happened while I was away. I made it home an hour or so later with a few things we needed and a new attitude.
When I returned I put some of the things away that I bought and went to find her. She was lying down in her room so I quietly went into her closet to install an adapter with a pull string to illuminate the room, I thought it was high time to “upgrade” from turning the naked light bulb that had been in the closet for years. She wasn’t asleep so I told her what I was doing and she told me that she'd finished cooking and that dinner was on the stove. She then asked if there was anything she could do for me.
“Yes,” I said, “You could start practicing a little patience.” She gave me just the opening I needed to say what I needed to say in a calmer manner. “There’s no need for you to get so angry because you can't "work" the can-opener. I’ve told you several times that all you have to do is ask me and I’ll open whatever you need-you’re not bothering me, so that’s not an excuse. All you have to do is say, "I’m going to be cooking and I need some cans opened"-leave them on the counter and I’ll do it for you.”
“Yeah, that’s what you say to do,” she said, sighing. It all sounded easy enough to me but maybe what I was hearing in her acquiescence was that "asking” for my help was some sort of compromise on her independence or something. I don’t know, it’s just another of those “I’m not in her situation so I can’t know how it feels”-deals.
I reminded her that she'd already broken two can openers a few months ago, one manual and the other electric, both of which were not cheap (though not top of line by any stretch of the imagination) but they were in perfectly fine working order till she came home from rehab.
“Besides,” I continued, you can’t just break things because you’re frustrated. You’re the one always talking about how "poor” you are so you can’t go around breaking things and thinking you can throw some money at the problem afterwards-that's what "rich" people do and according to you-you don’t have any money.”
"Yeah, well, you're right about that, I sure don't have any money," she agreed. She still wanted to get a new can opener, and I conceded the point that the one we had might not be the best "design", so I agreed to go out to shop with her after Christmas when a better bargain might be had. And with that I was able to put the lid back on-for now.
.
No comments:
Post a Comment