The farm house

The farm house

Saturday, December 28, 2013

My Selfish Self

Ah, Christmas has come and gone and I sigh a very selfish sigh of relief. This post is about my selfishness.

On Christmas eve afternoon, my husband picked up my Mother and drove her to our house. Her license was taken from her when she suffered a stroke 2 years ago. She has since suffered a TIA and another stroke in her sleep to which she did not tell a doctor nor went to hospital. My Mother lives by herself in a remote location. One must also go down and up a steep hill to get to the house. My Mother believes that one day she will drive again as her  car, bought a few months before the stroke awaits on the hill.

My Mother complains of solitary confinement but does not want to move. She complains that she can't get out or do things as she would like and that it costs to have a volunteer driving service(paid for mileage only) to take her to appointments. Her cousin who lives nearby drives her for groceries once a week or as needed.

She asks my husband to open canned goods for her as her hands are "useless". She returned a sleep apnea mask to a clinic as she could not manage the straps so it was useless to her. Since she can't prevent her sleep apnea, she requested I call more frequently so that if she dropped dead, the cat would be looked after. Let's add the same conversations and questions repeated frequently as short term memory has been impaired.

But there is nothing wrong with my Mother: so she believes. The doctor recommends she move to the city-she refuses. I had great difficulty watching her this Christmas as it is painful to see someone decline in health when a lot of it is due to their own stubbornness. I am a miserable daughter as I have refused to help with a few things or requests as I was hoping that someone would see that it is an inconvenience for others to come and cater to the needs of someone who is too obstinate to accept the inevitable.

So after entertaining and seeing that all her needs were met during her stay, something she said, near had me across the dining room table ready to choke her with whatever utensil was in my hand.
She didn't know if she could eat an animal that she was on a first name basis with. What? Did you hatch it? Teach it to eat and drink? Feed it and make sure it wasn't too hot or cold? Move it to different locations? Make sure it was transported properly to it's final destination? No, you did not. And yet I am willing to share what my hard work has provided for all who are sitting here. The meat in the store that you seem to enjoy doesn't get there by accident. I am not a murderer. I know how to be self-sufficient. I grow much of my own food, bake my own bread, can spin and knit garments. If there ever was a zombie apocalypse, I'm ready.

By the way, it was the best friggin' turkey I ever ate. And now, I am knitting for myself as I appreciate the finished products as much as my finished food.

A la prochaine.

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