Day #50 > SATURDAY 12th DECEMBER
Really did sleep well – such a difference to how I feel first thing. Had a dream that I had a six-pack – made me chortle out loud when I remembered it – wonder what that’s about?! Speak with Lia about bathroom fittings – yep, glamour all the way! – & I do believe I actually make sense before my coffee! Smashing.
Downstairs Groundhog Day greets me once again: ‘Did you sleep well?’ etc., etc. They’re in the den so I drain the half cup of pissy coffee left in the drip machine & make a new full-strength pot before joining them both watching F1 qualifying. To me it looks like they’re both in a trance, but hey, this is real life in Deweyland on a Saturday morning.
‘Any plans today?’ I offer. ‘Well, we do need to get our flu jabs.’ Volunteers Bob. ‘But I think we’ll go on Monday,’ Mmm. Ok, build me up, then grab it back eh. Right. Ok. ‘Any other plans?’ No. What a life. I’m just about to say to Mum what would you like to do when she gets up & goes off to shower, so I’ll hold that till she’s back. Bob also disappears so I make my new coffee & amuse myself for 30 minutes upstairs before returning down stairs . . .
Bob is now sitting on his throne eating bacon. Just bacon. A plate covered with tissue paper covered with bacon. Wow. Just bacon. That’s freaked me out. Who eats just bacon? I’m stunned. Boy I’ve lived a sheltered life . . .
Mum & I walk Abel, & again the subject of Bob & his ‘issues’ arrises – mainly because Mum again asks me my plans. I tell her again that I have a lot to arrange before I can leave to ensure she’s ok &, actually, that Bob’s ok too.
I turn up the wick a bit & say ‘Mum, you spend time with Bob & want to please him, then you spend time with me & agree with my thoughts & ways about how we can actually, physically, proactively & truly take care of you in reality – which you agree with – making Bob feel that you’re choosing me over him – rather than seeing reality for what it is. Sometimes you need to stick to your guns – your feelings – what’s real & what you believe in, because it’s just going from pillar to post & is not doing anyone any good. She agrees – but then again of course she always agrees with me, as she’s one to keep the peace – but something inside me feels like I might have touched a nerve here. Let’s see . . .
She says we should talk about this with Bob when we’re back. Oh boy, here we go again I think – ‘perhaps let’s just sit on it for a while till I know the answers to some questions I have Mum?’ I suggest, but nope, within two minutes of arriving home Mum’s asking me to come into the den to discuss all with them.
Round & round we go again – roll up, roll up, come join the big ole merry-go-round again. Sigh. I start by recapping that Bob offered to show me he was dry by having a blood test in front of me, but that had to be before Christmas as you both wanted to spend it alone, & therefore I needed to leave before then, having given Bob a teeny-tiny amount of time to prove himself, & if not you would get your lawyer involved to remove me from this house. But that wasn’t addressing the real issue, which was ensuring Mum was cared for at home, which wasn’t a given whether you are dry or not. Back ’n’ forth we went with Bob getting more & more animated, calling me a liar, lying himself, pointing, punching the air & then telling me that he’d discussed with Mum that he just wanted to know how long I was planning to stay & then – out of nowhere – suggesting that I could stay here permanently & ensure Mum received the care I thought she needed. He’d buy me a car too. Bear in mind it was a 75 minute discussion before this – heated at times – childlike at others – before he dropped this bombshell.
I caught my jaw just before it hit the floor. I smiled. Mmm. Let me think Bob, that’s a big departure from insisting you’ll quit only if I leave, then changing to you’ll quit & I’ll take Mum on a vacation whilst you get dry on your own because you won’t get help, to insisting I leave within two weeks & threatening a lawyer, to now, out of nowhere, saying I can stay here permanently to care for Mum, & you’ll ‘buy me a car’.
‘Leave it with me, as I need to give that to my heart & see what comes back – you’re not remotely suggesting I give you an answer right this minute are you Bob?’ ‘No.’ He says. ‘Ok, good, leave that with me.’ I reply. Mum gives me a look & says it sounds ok to her on the face of it. ‘I agree, on the face of it, but it’s a massive departure from Bob’s previous suggestions Mum & I’m not 100% convinced that living in this house where I run the risk of antagonising Bob would be best for your marriage – but let’s not kneejerk into anything right now – let’s think on it.’
Wow. What a cheek! All I can think is that he wants to pass the buck looking after his wife & continue his TV, tablet & trash lifestyle! I realise I’d be a prisoner here too, & nothing else would change, certainly not Bob’s attitude to caring & providing love, help & comfort for Mum. Mmmm. Psychological warfare? If I don’t choose to stay he’ll say it proves that I don’t have Mum’s best interests at heart & make me out to be fly-by-night. Hold on a minute – whoever heard of the child going to live with the parent when they get older?! Nope, t’other way round would be the normal run of things. Not a great start, but maybe it can be the start of a bargaining point? Maybe I could ask for an allowance? Hahaha. He threw me with that one, I’ll give him that!
Mum’s had enough of this, & lets us know she’s done and hungry, so we go around the houses as to what we should have for lunch. Bob’s had his baconfest so he’s ok, but we’re both peckish, so as Mum can’t decide I take the opportunity to familiarise herself with her inner self – & ask her to close her eyes, focus her thoughts on a bucket in her head & drop that bucket down to her belly & to simply let me know what pops into her thoughts. ‘Tomato sandwich!’ she blurts out. Nice. ‘Right Mum, tomato sandwich it is!’ I say, ‘there, that was easy!’
Trouble is there’s only cherry tomatoes & bread is in the freezer – so we have another debate about eating out vs making a sandwich. Bob comes in & makes a comment that we’re always eating out so I explain to Bob the situation & ask for his help in defrosting the bread. Raising his eyebrows, he grabs on to the fact he can do something I can’t & sets to putting the bread in the microwave. Good. Once defrosted I nicely ask him nicely to pass me a bread knife. Properly nicely – no edge. ‘What?’ He says. Mum hears him. I repeat my question. He starts to tell me what all the knives are in the block, so I say ‘just a bread knife please Bob’. Again he goes around the houses so I say, somewhat resignedly, ‘Bob, you’ve just defrosted the bread & the bread needs slicing, so please just pass me the bread knife you’d use.’ Hoorah – he comprehends & passes me a knife. A bread knife. For cutting bread. Good. Glad we’ve cleared that up.
I cut the bread; it’s either still frozen or simply stale, I can’t be arsed with this ‘bread’, so let Mum know it’s no good. ‘Right, let’s go out’ she says – finally making a decision. ‘You coming?’ She asks Bob, thinking it’d be bonding for us all to go out together. ‘Oh no, I’ve eaten already & don’t want to go out.’ He replies. ‘Be lovely to all go out together.’ She continues. ’No, I don’t want to go out.’ Bob counters. Mum turns on her heels, grabs the car keys & leaves the building.
Hoo-flipping-rah!
I follow & we head on out. She’s frustrated that she’s forgotten her handbag & blames her poor memory, but I offer consolation that she’d had a stressful morning & Bob’s attitude to spending time together meant that she just wanted to escape the house, hence not stopping for anything, but it’s no issue as I have money so let’s just enjoy some time together.
Which is exactly what we did. We went for food at Zöe’s Kitchen – Mediterranean food, where I went yesterday! Well, it’s Mum’s fav & she needed something tasty & healthy – & she ate very well. We sat outside – blue sky 70s sunny day here – & chatted freely. No real putting the boot in to Bob, but we did touch on a all & she vented her disappointment with how she’s treated.
From there we stopped at a shop I wanted to visit – & loved the 30 minutes or so we spent in there chatting, discussing ‘business’ & haggling – before visiting a trail & having a wonderful 40-minute walk along the creek in the woods. Lovely.
We got back & Bob remained in his chair. We tried to talk ’normally’ but it wasn’t particularly warm so we took Abel for a walk. I made a sweeping comment that Bob didn’t seem particularly pleased to see us & Mum replied that she felt ‘swiped by a dark misery in that house.’
Well, that was the second time that day my jaw nearly hit the floor. I knew exactly what she meant & was ‘delighted’ she felt the same – if that’s the right word. I felt a huge sense of relief & the best word I can come up with is ‘kindred spirit’ that she felt the darkness too. Thank God. I knew it wasn’t just me & I knew we were making progress, & that God was at the heart of all. Praise God.
We chatty-chatty & basically continue our good day together, as it was an absolute pleasure for me, & I believe Mum too.
We return home, make a cuppa – of course – drink it together with Bob with his head in his tablet & after a few minutes Mum gets the fidgets & disappears, returning a few minutes later to give me the privilege of witnessing the following verbatim exchange between them:
M: Bob, thank you for doing the laundry.
B: What laundry?
M: The laundry on the bed.
B: Oh, that was yesterday’s laundry.
M: Well I take it back then.
I snigger. Well, I thought it was funny – kind of summed up her ‘oh for goodness sake you’re absolutely infuriating’ attitude today, but I decide enough’s enough & head upstairs to call Lia & generally reflect on the day by closing my eyes for 30 minutes. Frustratingly I wake Lia when I call – oops – as it’s 11.30pm-ish her time & the day had gotten away from me – so wished her a great nights’ sleep & closed my eyes & just ‘be’ for a little while.
10 minutes later I hear Bob talking to Mum – rather than the other way around – & eventually when I hear him say ‘he keeps attacking me’ & that ‘he doesn’t believe I can look after you as well as he can.’ Mum disagrees with the former but agrees with the latter – yay! – but he continues, quite forcefully from the sounds of it. They’re downstairs & I’m upstairs so the sounds are slightly muffled but I can’t ignore it now as he’s deliberately goading her, so I make my way downstairs to find Bob on his throne & Mum putting clothes away on the bed. I sit next to Bob & ask if everything’s alright? No problem he replies, so I ask him my favourite ‘on the spot’ question: ‘Is there anything you want to tell me, Bob? Nothing he confirms, before saying ‘apart from what we said this morning, that you’re here as a guest of your Mother’s.’ Oh I reply, but don’t bite – I’ve been round & round the houses enough for one day, so simply nod my head & leave the room. I bump into Mum in the kitchen & ask if she’s ok. Same reply of no problem comes back, & I mention I heard Bob talking to her quite sternly & she reaffirms there’s no problem & that she can handle that child. I smile, letting her know I’m glad to hear it & head back upstairs for a break from Bob.
15 minutes later Mum appears upstairs & tentatively asks if she can speak with me. Of course of course I reply, thinking uh-oh, here we go again, Bob’s twiddled her round his finger again & I’ll pack & get my coat now . . . but in fact she says that Bob’s suffering & is afraid, & can I take it easy on him?
Third time in one day – jaw-dropping.
Ok, I’m generally disposed to being kind, then getting a bit sarky & sharp-tongued if I’m pushed, so faced with this new approach, I simply agree that of course I can, as I’m not here to make trouble for the sake of it, but Bob’s constant theatrics & defence of the indefensible means that there will always be issues until we’re all pulling the same way, because right now Bob’s biggest issue is that I’m making his life more difficult, rather than being happy that your life is better, which for me raises alarm bells. I reassure her that I won’t be deliberately angry or distant – & I’m not in the habit of starting fights – but if Bob’s living in fear then we need to look at what exactly that fear is. We discuss all & she’s very attentive & focussed. She understands the reality of what ‘care’ means & that she’s not receiving it from Bob & we have quite possibly the most balanced conversation that we’ve ever had. The fact she came to me to talk isn’t lost on me either, despite on the face of it it being for Bob. One day at a time I say, & we’ll do what’s right & true. We have a future. She lights up – she simply ‘gets’ me. This is so so so unusual for me – as not that many people do – because apart from my daughters I’ve never been used to speaking to my lineage before – someone who shares the same DNA & quite clearly speaks the same language. Momentous moment right there. Bonding. Tick.
Mum returns downstairs & I follow 15 minutes later or so. ‘Oh, where’s the other Tim?’ She says. Ouch. Oh dear. I walk her through just her, Bob & I in the house & she gets it – she’s got muddled – & as we walk through the kitchen Bob overhears & says he’s already told her that there’s only one Tim. I agree with him but say it’s quite clearly still an issue as Mum’s just raised it & we’re all talking it through, but Bob decides to walk out of the kitchen into the den. I comment that that isn’t ideal care for Mum, but I suspect it falls on deaf ears . . .
There – proof that stressful situations cause her to lose a grip on reality and that Bob cannot deal with it in a kind, empathetic & reassuring way for Mum. I genuinely cannot remember the last time Mum was confused about people in the house – what is it, it must be a month or more? The amount of emotional talk today has taken its toll & Bob walking out of the room puts the icing on the cake. Shocking.
Dinner is served 10 mins later on laps – ooh, this is new! – but alas the food isn’t, as tonight’s plat du jour is the leftover beef & pearl barley ‘soup’ from the other night. We eat – zero atmosphere – but ok considering all. Abel’s barking, & Bob says ‘he wants a chew’. Mmm. ‘Give him one of those such-n-such chews’ she says to Mum. A command. An order if you will. My eyes linger too long on the side of his head, hoping above all hope that he will get off his fat baggy arse & feed the dog that he’s so precious about, but actually can’t care for any more than he can care for his wife. Ever noticed it’s the little things that hit hardest, & that just reinforces my thoughts about his character: tell Susan to do what he wants when he wants & she’ll do it.
That, right there, is Bob’s issue; as right now Mum isn’t doing everything he tells her to do. Oh, that’s not all my ‘fault’ of course, as the sole reason for my arrival was the years of sauce, meds & the constant pick-pick-picking away at her that broke her self-esteem so badly that she’d resorted to trying to escape & disown him as her husband. Capgras Delusion they called it. Imposter Syndrome. Your spouse is someone else – you deny the existence of your spouse in your life. Maybe I should’ve left it for a couple more months & then simply poured a litre of whisky down the ole fella’s throat & whisked this ‘lost cause’ lovely ole lady away? Bugger.
I watch an hour of TV with them, making light conversation & then make my way to bed after quite a day. Phew. And relax . . .