How Many Hats?

How many hats can one person wear? Wife, mother, daughter, caregiver, accountant, travel agent, housekeeper,laundress, nurse, etc. etc. I am constantly going – literally morning, noon, and night. No time for a workout. Sleep? That’s something I seem to get in snatches.

On March 5, I flew home with my mother. I took her straight to the airport from the nursing home. Why? I feared that if she returned to her old environment she would refuse to come with me. Mom agreed with the plan. We had one plane change in Denver. I must say, Frontier Airlines does a great job when it comes to assisting disabled passengers, especially at Denver International Airport.

My work is constant, there’s always something to do. Call Medicare. Call Mom’s doctor. Answer the phone. Mom needs toothpaste. Run to the grocery store and then to Mom’s place. Work. I find myself falling asleep on the computer keyboard at work and at home. No room for sleep.

So who am I? Am I the myriad roles I take? Am I the jobs I do? It’s all a blur. No time to reflect. Even now, I am writing this as I wait in Detroit airport for my flight that will eventually take me back to San Diego and then Chula Vista. Shoshannah, Fox, Barry, and Wolfgang are all meeting there to clean and pack Mom’s stuff. Wow is there a lot of stuff!

Haunted by Hoarding

This afternoon I find myself exhausted and in a different time zone, three hours earlier to be exact. I'm in a Starbucks. There's no Internet where I'm staying, Mom's place. She's in the skilled nursing facility still.

Yesterday I traveled over 2000 miles, starting early in the morning and ending up on my mother's dark doorstep and empty house. The airport shuttle dropped me off at what for me was close to midnight. Thirsty, hungry and tired, I tried the key in the door. It worked for one lock, but the deadbolt did not budge. My heart sank. I was so looking forward to some rest. I called Frank, Mom's boy friend neighbor.

"The person you are calling is not available." No option for voice mail. What good would voice mail have done for me, stuck outside an empty house 2000 miles from home?

I tried her other friend. She answered.

"Give me a chance to put some shoes on. I'll be right there," she said.

Once inside, she said she had to go. Good. I was in no mood for social chit chat. Relieved, I thanked her.

I went to the bedroom that Frank and I had spent days cleaning up in October. To my horror boxes of old shoes, books, and nicknacks encircled the bed and a mountain of clothes covered the bed. Yes, the bed I intended to sleep in. I found a stash of used Kleenx. In a laundry, basket near the door to that bedroom were used... well suffice to say, it was disgusting. In the kitchen, I found more signs of Mom's hoarding. In one of the cabinets, she had stacked the neatly-folded white paper bags that Meals-on-Wheels delivered her lunches in. Beside those were stacked used zip locks bags obviously also saved from those same meals.