Love in Action (Loving the Unlovable) From Coffee Hour @ Chicklit Power

Welcome to Coffee Hour @ Chicklit Power, and thanks so much for letting me share this true story with you. If this is your first time, please, go back to yesterday’s blog so you can get caught up. It will make much more sense if you do.

Friday morning I left my house prayed up but I left 15 minutes later than I wanted to. Despite that, I actually made the 75 or so miles in an hour and ten minutes! Shhh, I’m sure I was driving over the speed limit at some point. Thank God for His angels who drive faster than I do! I made my way up to the third floor and walked to her door, which was opened up a couple of inches. I nearly gagged on the gust of nicotine that flailed at me as I walked ever so slowly inside. There she sat, on the couch in obvious pain with a 16 oz. glass that was nearly empty. I looked closer to see what was in the glass and cringed as I realized she had already started drinking her wine. Wow, things had gotten worse. Used to be I could catch her sober before 11 a.m., but that had obviously changed when I wasn’t looking, but loving her from a distance.

She told me to come in and shut the “damn door.” I heaved a heavy sigh of anger and frustration and closed the door behind me. “Sit down,” she yelled. I sat for a few minutes but then was thrust to my feet by the need for air. I opened up her sliding glass door in her little bedroom, and the window right behind her in the living room, and then sat back down, but not before noticing how untidy and dirty her little apartment was, another thing that had happened when I wasn’t looking. She used to be such a thorough house cleaner/keeper.

The old familiar feeling of uneasiness, nervousness, and anxiety that accompanies me every time I’m around her began to creep back towards me, only this time I didn’t grab onto it as in times past. I pushed it away and sat and talked with her for a few minutes before suggesting that we get ready to leave for her appointment. She responded by beginning to get nasty with me and I immediately asked her why she was yelling at me as though she were angry. She actually responded with an apology, saying she was in a lot of pain.

Before we left, she gave me a few things she wanted me to come back and do while she had her doctor’s visit. My mind began racing, adding up the time it would take, because she wanted me to do her laundry as well. Inside I was screaming, “No, Father, not me. Can’t I send her somebody?” Before I realized what I was doing, I was grabbing her dirty clothes out of the hamper and I smelled vomit and diarrhea. Oh, no, what have I gotten into? I silently wondered. She began to shout orders at me, and again, I threw out the “please quit being nasty” life vest, and though she still didn’t put it on, it worked and she stopped. We went downstairs after she gave me the twelve quarters it took for two loads – talk about inflation – and I got the two loads started and off we went. We weren’t in the car but five minutes and she started on me again. This time I didn’t give her the life vest; I just told her to chill out.

We got to her appointment with a few minutes to spare and I had to fill out her paperwork. I then informed the nurse about her drinking problem, which as it turned out was the cause for the inflammation she was experiencing in the area she was experiencing, aka, hemorrhoids. I know, TMI, but at least this will make more sense. When we got her in the room, she started being nasty with the nurse, and the “please quit being nasty” life vest was replaced with a “that’s enough” rope! When the doctor came in, he must have brought that same rope with him, because as she began to argue with him before his exam, he quickly told her, “You can continue doing what you’re doing and be in pain, or you can listen to what I’m telling you to do.”

There she stood, bent over, in a very vulnerable position, and when I put my hand on her back, I nearly gasped out loud. She was all bones, and that was like a sucker punch to my eyes and they began to fill up. I had no idea she had lost so much weight. After the exam, the doctor confirmed his original diagnosis, and said until the inflammation was under control they couldn’t do anything.

She began to cry. She really thought they were going to be able to fix her, and was even contemplating them admitting her. We left with an appointment for two weeks away, and three prescriptions. I took her to Rite-Aid, got her prescriptions, a sitz bath, some Epsom salts, some Ensure and homeward bound we went.

We got in her apartment, and I got her started on a glass of chocolate Ensure and headed for the laundry room downstairs to get the clothes and sheets in the dryer. I pulled up a pair of pajama bottoms and discovered the culprit for the stench I had experienced earlier and again, the tears came. What had she been doing to herself all this time while I was trying to love her from a distance? I went back upstairs and began cleaning her kitchen, pulling a skillet off of the stove that she had burned almost to a crisp. Everywhere I looked there were splatters of something on the walls, on the floor, signs that she was losing it. There were a few dirty dishes which I washed. Then I cleaned the stove, the floor, wiped at the walls hopelessly, and then made my way into the bathroom and scrubbed the toilet, sink and tub with Comet.

After several pleas, she finally finished her Ensure, and I gave her a pain pill, and prepared a glass of Metamucil, the orange flavor, and handed it to her. I was about to go check on her clothes when I experienced a very tender moment in my heart and I took her little face in my hands. I said something kind of funny, and she grabbed onto me and cried out, “I’m so sorry to inconvenience you, honey.” “Mom, you never asked for my help; you just got nasty, and you can’t be so ugly with me anymore.” I let silence join us for a second and then I continued. “And, please, mom, eat before you have any wine. That’s why you’re in the shape you’re in, because you’ve been drinking and not eating any fiber.” Her response shocked me. “I will; I promise.” I held her frail little alcohol-soaked body for what felt like forever and then kissed her on the cheek and pulled away. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to go get your clothes out of the dryer.”

I came back up with both loads folded and put them in her bedroom. We then got her on the sitz bath and it was time for me to go. We were both ready for me to go. I went over to her and kissed her on the forehead and told my number one unlovable person that I loved her. The last words she said as I walked out the door were, “I love you very much; I really do.”

Please come back tomorrow for the final blog of “Love in Action.”


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2 Responses to “Love in Action (Loving the Unlovable) From Coffee Hour @ Chicklit Power”

  1. Gay says:

    I’m weeping….praying!

    Stay strong Peanut!

  2. Kathy says:

    this was informative for me… I still want to meet with you. Maybe soon, OK. I can meet you for coffee. I have to pick Crystal up at 4:30am and then I’m home around 5:30ish… did you say you go to coffee in the early am? So praying for you and your mom. Love you!!