2003-11-06

2003-11-06 - 4:06 p.m.

In an hour and half, I'm meeting Mom for Japanese food. Her MRI is tomorrow, and she wants some support. She refused my offer to accompany her to the procedure, and refused Daddy's attempt to go with her next week to hear the results.

Deep down, I don't think her cancer has reasserted itself. She's five years out, which means that she's supposed to be cured. What I think will happen is that the MRI will confirm the necropathy in her ear, and she'll be scheduled for surgery. She'll end up deaf in one ear.

While I'm nervous for her, and extremely sympathetic to what will be a shitty situation, this isn't what I'm worried about either. No, what concerns me is her attitude.

Not a day has gone by since she told me what's happening that I haven't received an upset phone call. Sometimes she's frantic. Sometimes she's exhausted from cleaning house and has forgotten to eat - which turns her into a raging bitch. She ripped my father a new one on Monday afternoon. She called me a fucking idiot Wednesday night on the phone. This is just the beginning.

If it turns out that she is as sick as they think, I'll be the first person there for support. I'll answer her calls at all hours; she can come back to live with me again if necessary. That's my job; that's what people do when they love each other.

But jesus christ, I just want some peace. She is so hard to take. I'm sick of being called names and told that I'm failing at work, as a homeowner and as a woman. I'm so tired of paying a price every single time I ask her for the tiniest favor. I love her more than anything, but she is more of a burr in my ass than I can express.

What's hardest to take is that she doesn't remember saying terrible things to me. She doesn't remember throwing my dad out, or trying to push him down the stairs. And because she can't remember, she doesn't understand why I'm not emotionally available to her. She wants me to confide in her, to bring my friends (and boyfriends) around. She wants to know what's happening. But when I tell her, it's like letting the rock roll back onto Sisyphus. I get midnight phone calls wanting to know why I'm at Miss Beek's instead of at home. She'll show up at my door unannounced - and then tell me that my kitchen floor is dirty.

I miss the mother I had before. She was loving and kind, and though she was never easy to be with, she was honest with me. I learned how to be strong from her. Much of the love I show her now I learned from watching her with others. So of course I can't blow her off or ignore her for long.

I'll have dinner, and I'll hold her tonight while she cries, because inevitably she'll have worked herself into tears by the time I arrive at the restaurant. We'll eat, I'll reassure her, and then I'll put her into the car.

And then I'm going to go home and cry.

Comments: Speak your piece!

former / latter