Tuesday, November 8, 2011

“You may ask yourself, well, how did I get here?”


Granny has not improved. I brought the kids to see her Sunday and they each went over to hug her, she touched Delaney’s face and Sam lay down on the bed next to her for a few moments and let her hold him. She cries, she smiles, she laughs…whether out of frustration or humor, I’m not sure. I bent over the bed and told her I loved her. Saturday night she responded with an “I love you.” This time she looked at me like she didn’t understand. I made the sign for I love you with my hands. She managed to get her fingers in the same sign and very carefully pressed our fingers together. I tried not to cry.  

Medicare only covers 4 days in the hospital, dying or not. They’d rather pull the oxygen right out of your nose and rip the IV from your skin and push you down the stairs before they would work with you. So they have to move her elsewhere, meanwhile the speech therapist is trying to explain to her that she is going to have to move, but no, she’s not going home, like she thinks. She will probably never go home. Her little dog will continue to race around her apartment looking for her.  

Sometimes you have to stand back and say, “Seriously? Seriously? Is this some kind of fucking joke? Really? REALLY?”

I took Sam and Delaney to the doctor for wellness checks yesterday, and Sam has a lump in his testical. The doctor said it was most likely a hernia but he referred us to Children’s Hospital for an evaluation.

Have I mentioned that our house is in foreclosure? The auction date is the 23rd of this month, if anyone would like to come and bid. I figure that’s one way to get rid of all our junk. Let them throw it the front yard and let the neighborhood scavengers dig through it. At least I wouldn’t have to clean the house again. Let the bank deal with the missing chunks of linoleum, where I ripped them up in a frantic, manic state. They can deal with the broken kitchen cabinet that I punched or the closet door that I kicked. I’m “working” with Wells Fargo to get a loan modification and have been for the last 5 months, with no result. They continually ask for the same paperwork, over and over and over again. The first “specialist” we had never returned phone calls.  Yesterday, our new one called to say that our paperwork EXPIRED THURSDAY. And I have to send it all in again, with current information. Unfortunately, we don’t have another 5 months to wait. Wells Fargo sucks.

“You may ask yourself, well, how did I get here?”

4 comments:

Joshua said...

I'm so sorry on all of this. I'll be sending you positive thoughts. I wish I could do more to help.

Chocolate Covered Daydreams said...

This is one honest post. I am so sorry that you are dealing with so much. Just when you think it's safe to come out from beneath the covers, there's something else that flies at you. Hoping that there's nothing but good heading your way. Will there be a place for you and the family to go if the house forecloses? Sending prayers your way.

Angela said...

i've had an awful day today, though not on that large of a scale. or maybe it is that large, for my own life. i won't even begin to tell you my issues, you don't need those swimming around in your head, too.

i am so, so sorry about your home being in foreclosure. this will pass and it will get better, but i can't promise it'll be any time soon.

just hang in there. for your kids, even if it sends you straight back to the funny farm. most days i feel like i'm already on my way there. it's amazing what we go through, really. it's amazing anyone makes it out alive. but we do.

Adrienne said...

Oh, geez - we were in that same loop with Wells Fargo...submitting the same damn papers over and over.
I hope things work out okay for you.

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