He took my car, therefore I had to be up and drive him to The Store. That is where he, out of the blue (although I understand he needed to tell me the news) that there is a death date for The Store: Some time in April.
I muttered softly, "Please don't say that." Because I didn't want to hear that.
---
Later this evening, after returning from seeing Ghost Rider 2 with a friend who had free passes (review: Nicolas Cage overacting again in a boring movie that doesn't even use its 3-D well, but thanks for the passes, I'm glad to be able to spend time with you), Grandmother knocked on my door, the first of four times she did so tonight.
She told me that earlier in the evening, Father came up to her room and told her that Mother wanted her gone.
Now she's scrambling. She thinks she needs money so she can leave, so she's trying to call her real son in Hong Kong to wire her money. However, she doesn't know where she put the phone card I gave her so she can call abroad. Plus, it took her the longest time to find her son's number, another sign of her deteriorating memory.
There are a lot of things wrong with this. She doesn't understand that she doesn't need money in order to move to a nursing home. Then again, having money won't help her move, either. I don't think she understands the process beyond being thrown into a home. But then again, neither do I.
But why the fuck does she have to leave anyway? She pisses me off a lot of the time. Her memory's shot, and she repeats herself constantly, especially when she's panicking over money or a letter from her Medicare. But like I said before, she's not hurting herself or anyone else, and Father made sure she can't burn the house down because she forgot to turn off the stove or toaster oven. She's fine. Why make her leave?
Both big, bad news on The Store and Grandmother on the same fucking day. Fuck my life.
No comments:
Post a Comment