Signing My Grandmother's Death Warrant

While at the doctor's today (I had a two-for-one, a lipid panel and a meeting with a urologist for my balls) I received a call from My Father. He left me a message earlier this morning, but because of the devastating double bad news I got yesterday (see previous post), I decided to take it easy on myself and turn the fucking thing off overnight.

But he was being insistent about something, so I answered it in the lobby. The gist of it was that he wanted me to copy Grandmother's health insurance cards. Obviously it is for the nursing home my parents are going to throw her into. But My Fucking Father told me that if she asks what it's for, tell her it's the pharmacy.

Now that kind of set me off. I do not want to lie to her, especially when it comes to evicting her out of her home. Is he going to resort to subterfuge in order to get her to leave?

I kind of yelled at him after that -- not about lying, but about asking a dumb question about what is that noise he heard in the background. It was the delivery guy heading into the clinic, but he would have known that that could have happened because I told him I was at the doctor's. When I specifically told him that, he tried to interrupt me, but then he asked me what that noise was. "Are you listening?!" I angrily asked him. I hate it when I have to resort to anger to get across my general point about this entire situation over Grandmother. It's so passive-aggressive.

And I now I feel bad because I can't help but try to make it up to him by giving him a copy of Grandmother's insurance. I thought about not doing and saying I forgot, thereby making him do it essentially, but the way they're going right now, it's not going to stop the thing I want stopped: Grandmother being put into a home. Plus, I'm still kind of upset that she only used one of the insulin syringes I prepared for her while I was on vacation, even after I called to remind her. It's very petty of me, but this is the personal slight that allows me to perform the cruel act of copying her insurance cards.

So this afternoon, after having a lunch beer and taking a self-pity nap, I wake up and tell her that Father wants me to ask her for the cards. Without even asking why, she gives them to me.

She has no idea. Goddammit.

I felt bad this afternoon, going to the library and making a copy. When I return home after blogging about this I'll hand Grandmother back her cards then slip Father the copy (assuming he doesn't pick a fight with me over yelling at him this morning -- my God, we are so fucking passive-aggressive). And that's another step to shipping Grandmother out of the house, whether she wants to or not.

With this gesture, I might as well lift her up and throw her out of the house myself ... or take an ax and decapitate her. She's dead anyway.