Absolute Misery

Granted, this was a medical trip mostly, but dammit, there was supposed to be fun in it, too.

There is no fun in this. My mother had the stroke at the end of May, the doctor upped her dosage of anti-seizure drugs, and then it was raised again. And just in case that doesn't make her dopey enough, she could remember if she'd taken it on Tuesday night and took it again - a total of six mind-numbing pills in one night, on top of the 50,000 other meds she takes. The result?

A fun-packed trip of whining, weariness, crashing into things with the scooter, the English language breakdown, the whole day of this really amazing cardiologist telling my mother point-blank that she has to do something about her diet problems - eating all the sugar that she does and then playing fast and loose with the insulin. She is also using Novolog, which was a 90s insuin, great when they created it but replaced with much better stuff (humulog, that was it). He really was very politik about it but still made it very clear that she is careening down the road of diabetic-related heart failure. The stroke was a warning - one that she got away with as a warning (ischemic strokes are not always fatal. Neither are hemorrhagic ones, but the likelihood is higher). She didn't listen to it.

Listening to this doctor she looked scared. She promised she would be more proactive and would be more carefull. We went out to dinner and she promptly ordered a piece of chocolate cake with ice cream. What $&*^!! conversation about sugar intake?!

I told Ray that I'm making the third sojourn down here with Luis and not coming with Ma. Why should she take any steps to look into myotonia dystrophia 2 when she cannot even handle the bigger issue, the diabetes? She is not even making the weakest attempt to try. And then if we say something it is eye-rolling and sighing and saying we are to get her.

How bloody stupid can anyone be?

I told Ray I didn't want to stay a third night, and taking Ma to the zoo is pointless. She got up this morning for the 1000 appointment she had with the neurology department and then needed to come back here and go to bed. This is living?

I am dog-tired now. But I'm still up and will be for a little while longer. She is up for five hours out of a 24-hour day and this is a major effort. And the sugar thing... why not use bullets? As ineffective as that can be, it has to be a hell of a lot easier than overdosing slowly and painfully on chocolate and dying from stupid secondary effects - the list of which is endless. I'd rather make it quick and painless.

Maybe that is just me. But I cannot so this and watch her kill herself fully knowing of this but wearing blinders and saying, "But this won't happen to me."