Not for the squeamish... It is time for 'From The Mouth Of A Hoarder'!

I wanted to share this with those of you that are interested in the FTMOAH... Maybe a bit in the spirit of, rather childishly, 'if I have to experience this...'

But seriously, I know some of you can relate to my pain of 'hoarder speak', no filter, and the verbal diarrhea that flows constantly.  And on that note...

FTMOAH...

"So I have been having a HORRIBLE time going to the bathroom..."

Mother, we are not talking about this...

"And I pushed and I pushed and it would not come out and it hurt so much and ..."

Mother, I am not listening to this about your shit.  Call you doctor...

"I don't see my Lupus doctor for another 6 weeks now!  And I do not have a primary care doctor, they are all quacks! So I get a mirror to look..."

Mother, final warning.  I am NOT going...

"And there was this great big swelling next to my butthole!  I had that before!  Dr. Whomever lanced it but no doctor wants to do that anymore and..."

<<End Call>>

I drove down the highway shaking my head and laughing maniacally.  

WOW.  

On a separate note, I am scheduled for surgery the first week in August.  I am not telling her until I have to, and maybe not even then.  I just do not need the headache, but her insistent demands to know are tiring as well.  

Have a great night, everyone.  

2016 already?

Goodbye to 2015, and hello to 2016!  I have to say the past year was full of challenges and accomplishments, and it was seldom boring.  I am looking forward to 2016 and beyond...

My last entry had me in a bit of a low spot due to the intrusiveness and the guano loco behavior of my hoarding mother.  I am dealing with that, and realized that part of my discomfort is I am apparently ready to move on to the next stage of healing, whatever that may be, and it may ultimately involve going no contact with my mother if she continues her path, which I honestly see little chance that she will not continue to physically, mentally and emotionally decompensate.  This is NOT going to end well.  

My year has started off with a bit of a new health challenge, nothing earth shattering, but yesterday I got a diagnosis for a autoimmune issue that I thought was merely an infection.  It is not huge or all that serious (like RA, lupus, or MS) but is still a pain in the proverbial rump, and something I had never heard of before.  Upon doing some deeper research, it appears that for many folks this occurs with another co-occurring autoimmune issue.  Now I have a couple of health issues, and I am not clear if the one is considered auto-immune or not, but I think it is.  The new one is uncomfortable, makes me more susceptible to a certain form of cancer and prone to some other issues, but for the most part should be relatively invisible to others.  I am less than impressed with this, but I am starting a 6 week regimen of more intense treatment and then will have a maintenance treatment  a couple times a week for here on out.  Life goes on, and I refuse to allow this to occupy a lot of headspace.  I may have an upcoming biopsy and appointments with a specialist looming if things do not settle down SOON, and I will manage it as I do the other health issues I have.  It will require a few changes to my daily routine, but... At 46 years old, it is what it is.  It could be much worse, and I accept that some disease process will undoubtedly occur as I age.  

Now- I called my hoarding mother as I was enroute to work.  Ever the observant one, she asked why I was so late in leaving for work.  I told her I went to the doctor, and when she asked why, I just skimmed over the diagnosis and the issue.  She immediately diverted back to herself, talking about her 2 front teeth that have broken off at the gumline and must be removed this week, and how she takes such good care of her teeth and self and does not know how this happened.

SERIOUSLY?  Personal hygiene is not her forte.  An ER doc listed her dental hygiene as 'extremely poor' a while ago, something that sent her into the stratosphere.  She now only will have 14 or 15 teeth.  She started going on about how her underwear elastic pulls her pubic hair.

WAIT.  WHAT?  No... Do not repeat that.  Ever.  Please.

She then started down the list of taboo subjects...

1. Public hair and grooming (lack thereof)
2. Her crusty, scaled feet and nasty toenails
3. Her distended belly
4. The weight of one person and the female pattern hair loss of another
5. Asking what I think a neighbor gets paid for selling cars
6. Asking if I 'had talked to the woman that works at the Humane Society about the dog' that she caused all the problems about a couple of weeks ago.

You get the idea.  Each time I would shut her down she would start on something else.  Finally she came out with an asinine statement of political willful ignorance and threatened violence at a neighbor.  I ended the call.

And then it hit me.  I was a bit more disconnected than usual, as I had something on my mind (my experience at the doctor's appointment and the fact I am being referred to a specialist to rule out some larger, scarier things).  Many friends, acquaintances, family, etc. might have noticed and asked if anything was going on... But not my hoarding mother.  Since I was even more disengaged that usual, she was attempting to get a rise.  She thrives on disappointing expectations, and pushing buttons and she apparently needed her narcissistic supply.  And I was not obliging. 

We move on.  I will do what I need to do to take care of me, and I refuse to let her take up any more real estate in my head.  I know that stress can exacerbate some of these conditions, and I plan to manage mine as well as I can.  I am fine, and I will be fine.  However, my hoarding mother will NOT be fine.  And there is nothing I can do about that.  Sometimes self determination is a double edged sword.  So be it.

Have a great remainder of your week, and thank you for reading.

Does air-freshener cover up decomp in an aging Honda station wagon?

I can't even...  This is a blog that should not be written, but it is going to happen anyway.  I did purposefully wait until a little closer to Halloween to share this.

So- my hoarding mother's neighbor (the one that I talk to, and stopped by to visit last month) was on vacation with her boyfriend, and had left her precious little dog with a trusted pet sitter.  Her pup was a teacup poodle, was 13 or 14 years old with a pretty significant heart condition, but seemed to be doing well.  Long, sad story made short... The pet sitter threw the dog a piece of cheese, and the dog either had a heart attack at that instant, or asphyxiated on the cheese.  It was horrible.  The neighbor was on her way back from out of state when she got the call, and she had the sitter drop her dog off on her porch, in a box.  

Now, she was not thinking clearly, as it was 90 degrees or hotter that day.  (They had just had a cold snap when she left the state, and I do not think she realized that there was unseasonably hot and humid weather afoot).  At some point she called my mother to just make sure the dog was on the porch.  My mother drove over to her house, and picked up the dog until the neighbor got home, especially with all the roaming animals and vermin in the neighborhood.  My mother mentioned this in passing, but was more preoccupied with wanting to be macabre, morbid and bash the neighbor, the sitter, etc. and knowing that I would not be party to any of that.  I did not ask details, and changed the subject quickly.  Little did I know...

The next day she calls.  "Does that Febreeze stuff for cars work?"  Um... WHY?  "Why?  Do you not realize what happened here yesterday and I what I did?"  Oh my GOD.  She got the box with the dead dog that had been out in the heat, stowed it in her car, and parked in in her garage to... percolate for several hours in a garage that was hot.  She keeps her car closed up as well.  I was dry retching on the phone.  Decomp.  Her car smells like decomposition.  She has dead dog decomp going on in her car.  She acknowledged that since she has little to no sense of smell, the odor must be bad.  When I started asking questions, she started getting defensive and evasive, and ended that call as soon as she could, after changing the subject to tell me something about her feet that would make the most hardened person vomit.  

Add this to the list of horrendous odors that emanate from her house, her car, her person.

Dead dog.  Decomp.  I will never set a toe in that car again.  EVER.  

Hoarding.  No one wins.  No one.

OMG... From the Mouth of a Hoarder (FTMOAH)

She has been on a roll the past few days.  From starting needless arguments at Kmart to harassing poor folks at doctor's practices and drive throughs... Her reign of terror continues.  It is time for... FTMOAH!

"I found an old starter pistol that must have belonged to your father.  It still has the price tag on it.  Do you know any schools I could donate it to?"

For what?

"For gym class or races.  They use starter pistols, right?  I guess I could donate it, but I hate to see some kid..."

You know that fires blanks, right?  And blanks are not toys, folks can die from a point blank shot from a blank (no pun intended).

"Sputtering... but I do not want it... Should I take it to the library?"  (Pronounced Li-BERRY)

For what?

"So they can tell me what it is worth..."
____
Later in the day, phone call from my hoarding mother... 

"I am glad I did not call the police station, the firing range or any of that - it is worth some PENNIES!"

Okay...

"It is worth $75!!!"

Oh brother.
____
"Do you have problems with hair on your lip?"

No.  We are not discussing this for the 200,459th time.  

"Well, I ..."

<Dial tone>

____
"My legs are just so dry.  If I run my hands down them it looks like it is snowing, white flakes go EVERYWHERE!"

GAG.  <Silent violent retching>

____
"He has been in the house!  ..."

I asked if she kept a stalking journal (which I know she has not because she has said so in earlier conversations)...

"Yes!  That is how I know he has been in the house!  It was on the dishwasher... [dramatic pause] And now it is GONE!"
____

Shared I exceeded my goal of running over 1,000 miles in a year.

"[In morose voice]... You need to watch that... Your dad died because of his heart, and all that exertion..."

<Primal scream>
___

Just a few recent gems.  One of these days I am going to face palm so badly that I will wreck my car.

Oh dear... Mold in her ear...

So the drama with my hoarding mother's health continues.  At least according to her self report, which can be difficult to sift through to determine what is accurate, what is fact based, and what is not.

She has been complaining of ear pain and discharge.  In gross and terrifying detail.  She has seen one doctor over 10 times since February, and has seen 3 other doctors in that time as well.  She went to a new doctor, a specialist, out of town.  (This is after her rigidity caused her to miss a referral to a prestigious teaching hospital two hours away.)

Long story short (saving you the drama, trauma, and craziness inflicted by her manufactured hardships and inflexible world view) she has mold in her ear.  A lot of it.  She does take a medication for lupus that suppresses her immune system so she is more vulnerable to any infection, and living in a stage 5 hoard makes this a guaranteed issue.  

She has been going on and on, speculating where and how she could have come in contact with a mold spore.  Of course, it could not been her home!  She has been coughing and hacking a lot, and keeps complaining that it happens now even when she has not been outside.

Um... No mystery here.  It is the hoard.  Her accommodation to the filth, dust, and other things that go parcel and packet with a hoard, even a 'dry hoard' is starting to leave her very medically vulnerable.  And her mental illness and her refusal to treat it will make a bad situation, untenable.  I can only imagine what she is telling the doctors to explain it, and I hope that they (the medical personnel) are not that naive...

This will not end well.  Whether it is today, this week, or two years from now.  Hoarding... No one wins.  No one.

M&Ms, the candy that melts in your bra, not in your hands...

Called my hoarding mother on the way home tonight.  Amongst her monologue there was one gem....

"Did you know M&Ms melt?"

Um... Yeah, figured that in elementary school or so.  Why?

"...[Sparing you, the reader of the obsessive detail of her eating  candy, why she chose to eat candy, why she chose to eat THAT candy, what she was wearing, where she was, and what interrupted the task of eating candy- you are welcome!] ...And I dropped the stupid thing, and after searching everywhere for it, I finally decided the HELL with it, it will show up some day, and I went back to clipping coupons.  Later I found it!  Guess where it was?  In my bra!  And it had completely melted and I did not feel it and did not notice it.  Now I have my new sports bra with a bit chocolate and candy coating colored stain, and it was expensive!  Why I paid $12 at Walmart for that!  And I had a mess all over me, and stuck to my chest... [again sparing you the description of the chocolate mess on her breast and nipple... GAH!] 

How is it possible?  And... Ewww.  She was very offended when she learned I did not want to discuss her boob.

The disjointed natterings of hoardy-speak...

I should be going to bed, but work is crazy and full of impossible deadlines, as is my personal life right now.  Preparing for a fiscal agent monitoring, multiple grant deadlines, meetings, many responsibilities from Boards I sit on (including cooking a fundraiser from 11:30am to 10pm tomorrow) and running a 5 mile race on Saturday morning.  

But... what I am thinking about?  The crazy that traveled via satellite and via technology out the speakers of my Bluetooth enabled car.

In a 20 minute call she:

1. Wanted to know how to measure herself for one of those 'sports bra things' to wear around the house to be loose.  The woman seldom wears a bra now, and when she crosses her arms, there is a nipple peeking from under each elbow.  YOU ARE WELCOME!  She also proceeded to tell me that for such small wrists, she has such a large chest!  Why, if you measure her at her rib care the difference between that measurement and the fullest part of her bust is nearly 7 inches!  HUGE!  ...NOT...  She has no understanding of types of sports bras, their purpose, XS, S, M, L, XL sizing, and how to dress or fit her body since she intentionally wears her clothing about 6 sizes too loose.
2. Asked about a 'no-no thing' which is some sort of hair removal device.  She attempted to get started on the hair on her lip and the hair on her breasts discussion, and I shut that down.
3. Tried to discuss her bowel issues and how eating yogurt has helped... Shut that down too.
4. Asked many invasive questions about friends, income speculation of her neighbors, health issues, and was shut down.
5. She started ruminating on her estranged sister and despite seeing the physical abuse her sister suffered at the hands of her violent and abusive ex husband, she asserted that she does not believe any of it, that her sister brought it on herself.  I really hit the roof, and told her that I was not having that discussion, change the subject.  For readers that do not know, I work in the anti-interpersonal violence field, and she grew up in domestic violence, and married it a time or two, so she should know it when she sees it.  Just vile.
6. She wants a sensor light with an infrared camera that has a motion alarm that is klaxon loud.  Uh huh.
7. She is torturing all the local landscaping vendors trying to get estimates on her overgrown, hoarded yard.
8. I mentioned I was leaving a dinner engagement with a friend and we shared a bottle of wine.  She immediately began freaking out that I would get pulled over, go to jail, lose my job...  When I advised her it was two pours over 2 1/2 hours with lots of food, she retorted that she knows nothing about booze and boozing.  Yep.  That is me.  The boozer...  Ugh.

That was just a small sampling.  Some of the things made me dry retch as I was driving.  Some of it just was so paranoid, and so worst case scenario and scorched earth reactive that all I could do was just drive in silence.  She has few if any boundaries, and she has very few subjects that she discusses, most are repetitive, unsavory, TMI, pick-your-descriptor. 

I have said it before, and I say it again.  This is not going to end well.  And when I told her that I did not want to discuss her perception of her sister's singular (evil according to her) nature and her lack of ability to see anyone outside her own frame of perception, she changed the subject eagerly.  

I suspect I have just given her the next topic to sharpen to attempt to get under my skin.  I strongly recommend that she resist that urge, as this will not go the way she sees it... I guarantee that.  

Have a great night everyone.  Thanks for reading.

Yep. It is that time. It is 'From the Mouth of a Hoarder' Time!

Happy 2014 to all!  Been a bit intense lately, so I thought I would do another installment of FTMOAH.

Those who read my last blog know that my hoarding mother called me at work to essentially insult me.  That seems to be her new attempt at a strategy since the others are not getting her any traction.  She seems to be trying to take this strategy to another level and trying to be subtle in the most passive aggressive, narcissistic way possible is her new angle on trying to get under my skin.  Honestly... all I can do is laugh after I end the call.
_________________________________
This group of statements are all things she and I have discussed many times over the past days, weeks, months... years... you get the picture.  Of course, when I say it, she refuses to understand, get it, and asks the same question 401,204 times.  She hears it from someone in a waiting room, at Walmart, on Dr. Oz, etc. and it is the new gospel that she needs to educate me on!  Ai yi yi...

"Did you know that they do not routinely remove appendixes anymore during abdominal surgery?  Apparently they do have a function and are not useless like I thought!  I thought they just did that, but they don't!  You might still have yours..."  (I do.)

"Dr. Oz says artificial sweeteners actually cause weight gain even though they have no calories!  And they can be harmful!  That is so scary!" (Never mind Aspartame gives me thunderclap migraines and Splenda put me into stage 2 renal failure...)

"Did you know that the stuff they put on fruits and vegetables is so harmful?" (No.  That is why I buy locally grown, organic vegetables and fruits...)  

"Do you know that hearing aids don't cure all hearing loss?  Supposedly if you have not heard a certain level or consonants for a number of years your brain 'forgets' how to hook that all together.  Think that is why I have such a hard time hearing people?  But young people and women TALK SO FAST!"

There are many more, but you get the idea.  And she is just flabbergasted when I apprise her this is not a news flash.  And that we have discussed these things before.  
_______________________________________
She also continues to walk down the aisle of "I cannot see anything other than my own weird assumptions and my own perspective".  Things of late that have been conversation stoppers...

"I cannot understand with having a military pension and being retired from the police they do not have any money."

"Do they still not bury people when it is so cold?  When I was a little girl the neighbor girl died and they brought the coffin home and it sat in their living room until warmer weather.  It started to smell really bad..."

"When the bank sends something to someone ON THE INTERNET [emphasis mine... but she says it the same dramatic way each time] can everyone see it?  Or just the person the send it to?"

"[Asking about one of my friends abruptly] does that job pay well?  They always seem to be travelling or doing SOMETHING."

"There were people next door stomping around.  I think they are going to bring a trailer in.  A TRAILER!  Like we need that to bring down property values here!" (Um... actually, living next to YOU will bring down their property value...)

"I have been reusing my newspaper bags/sleeves.  I cover my feet in lotion and put the bags on to sleep.  It is working!  My feet are no longer sharp and cut my socks with the crust around my heels." (Retching... sorry... if I get to hear it, I feel I must share the joy!)
_______________________________________
There is much more.  I need to use my voice memo to keep track of it all, as this kind of stuff has become so commonplace that it is hard to keep track of.  And she is getting worse.  All I can do is keep to my plan of keeping contact short and only a few times a week.

Hoarding... no one wins.  NO ONE.  Have a good evening and thanks for reading.  

Wood ticks and other errata...

So, if you have read anything of this blog before now, you know that my hoarding mother is *somewhat* delusional and her insight is nonexistent. 

So- several days in a row she was complaining of finding ticks on her, on her clothing.  Today she found a tick on one of her strictly indoor cats.  She again attributes it to 'being outside' and talks about bugs in a manner that approaches a belief of spontaneous generation.

Now, in March of this year she found... excuse my vernacular... a turd in her hoarded basement, and an area in which her cats can never reach or are permitted.  She first decided it was 'snake poo' then recategorized it as 'skunk poo'.  Under either classification she is convinced that her hated neighbor used a credit card to enter her house and place it there. Late May she found a cockroach in the kitchen, and she decided that some bananas she purchased where the source despite checking them for 'passengers' or roach eggs.  Now, this tick on a cat in her house.  I have speculated more and more often since March that her house is tipping from a dry/'clean' hoard into a wet/'dirty' hoard.  I suspect the ticks may be another step in this evolution.  

Several years back she was keeping birdseed in a plastic trash can on her front porch, and to her surprise, she had 30-40 mice living on her screened in porch.  Now, fancying herself a modern day Cinderella (at least in her 'special' connection to animals) she refused to listen to my concerns/my ex-husband's concerns that there were easily 3-4 times what she saw present, and that they had to be gaining access to the house.  She will assert that she does not have a single spider or gnat in her home, and other such claptrap.  When she saw one of the mice go up her block foundation and disappear under her vinyl siding, she finally got mouse poison and killed all her new little 'pets'.  She found they had chewed through the bottom of the can, but steadfastly refused that any made it into the house.

She also feeds feral cats, and the birds.  She throws bread, cereal, cookies, and all kinds of crap in the yard 'for the birds' and keeps wet and dry food out for the cats, and as a result of the rural area, and the untended yard and the goat/horse field behind her she is feeding skunks, possums, raccoons and other vermin.  And they are SO CUTE!  Blech.  She also has found fleas on herself, and she steadfastly refuses to hear how the vermin coming in on her porch and etc. could be 'promulgating' the fleas and the ticks.  She also refuses to entertain the thought that something, or several somethings, could have gotten in through a few different routes/methods.

I guess this is how it starts... the poo, the wet hoarding.  I am sadly convinced that if I outlive her, and we are not estranged, that I will have a hoard of the highest classification to clean out.  Dear GOD.  

One bit of comic relief... a bird pooped on her head today.  And she is, once again, perplexed as to why the bird was flying overhead in that area since there is no power lines, etc.  

WOW.  That is all I have to say.  

Now I am going to bed.  Goodnight all.

I am so not sure what is real in relation to her medical challenges... an update on her hip injury...

So for those who are new to this blog, my mother has had an issue with her hip since July.  She has had at least 2 rounds of physical therapy, one was to include hydrotherapy which she declined.  She blames the first PT provider with damaging her leg further, and blames an antibiotic for causing her leg pain.  She now walks with a cane.  She has severe osteoporosis and osteopenia, among other things.  

She was referred to a specialist in a larger town about 70 miles from her home after being told she had a torn ligament in her hip.  Two cortisone shots later and two appointments later, she cancelled her 3rd appointment with this specialist/surgeon.  This was contributed to by her behavior at the last appointment, where she was rude and demanding to the reception staff, the nursing staff, and the doctor.  She has now decided he 'treated her different' and 'acted funny'.  Sorry Dr. Whomever-you-are... that fall from the 'Wonderful Stranger' pedestal is an abrupt and catastrophic one.

She had a primary care physician appointment today. She had him look at her leg, which apparently has a 'groove' and a 'pulled place'.  With the really obtuse yet dramatic detail she often uses in reference to her issue and the doctor's opinion, she finally discloses that:

1. Neither cortisone injection helped
2. That this change in her leg has happened since the last specialist visit 6-8 weeks ago
3. The PCP told her to stop the shots, that she has scar tissue and muscle atrophy from the botched PT sessions
4. That her leg is NEVER GOING TO GET BETTER... [screaming emphasis is hers]
5. Her Lupus is active again

Earlier this week she went to her eye doctor.  She has cataracts (possibly contributed to by some of her heavy use of corticosteroids for Lupus and other issues but more than likely a mixed result of age, and having light, light blue eyes and NEVER wearing any type of UV blocking lens or sunglasses and medications.

Allegedly she was recommended for surgery over three years ago, but she will not commit to scheduling, and complains that she cannot see certain things.  And she drives:-\

Now- this is where my angst comes in.  What is the truth?  What is exaggerated for effect or to attempt to induce guilt?  What is she not telling me?  And based on past performances and her skewed and paranoid perspective is ANY OF IT TRUE?  

In her conversations with me she recounts folks pity and alleged horror as this frail, elderly little woman perseveres over her physical issue (walking very slowly and painfully) and loneliness/abandonment to get what is essential done.

I am placed in a place of not knowing very intentionally by my hoarding mother.  Information is POWER, both withholding it and using it... as far as her perspective goes.  In the past there have been many occasions she has been less than honest with me, with the docs, with everyone.  They include:

1. Revisionist medical history- although her mother had a radical mastectomy and breast cancer, she denies it.  She is also convinced her mother had Lupus, which most information points to that children are only slightly more prone than the general public.
2. She claims to have had 'vascular surgery' in the late 70's.  She was allegedly hospitalized for 6 weeks or more, all to take out a rib?!?! That was causing issues that a previous surgeon missed.  She had no new incision when she returned.
3. In 1996, 8+ years after being allegedly diagnosed with Lupus, the really nasty, often fatal in 10 years or so type (again, according to her) she told me she had 2 years to live.  As my ex-husband likes to point out, she is the healthiest and longest lived terminal case he has ever seen...
4. Many elective surgeries that required 23 hour observations, and the hospitalization and surgery that resulted from a cat bite that almost cost her life itself, but I was not told until after the fact.  Once, when I still lived in the same state she arranged for me to pick her up by asking me to meet her at a doctor's appointment.  They did not get her ready for discharge in time so that secret was out.
5. Any surgery or treatment she has then turns out to be botched... her thyroid surgery is an example.  The doctor she uses has a great reputation and many of my friends who are still in that area use him.  She burnt that bridge by verbally attacking him, claims he 'nicked the nerve' and now she cannot swallow or eat, and that her voice is changed forever.  Her voice only changes when she is complaining about this.
6. She also affects a hoarse voice when she talks about she is coughing/sick/whatever.  The next topic it resumes as normal.

So what is real, what is gaslighting to attempt to inflict guilt, and what is just more narcissism and hoarder BS?  

...Oh... Sorry.   The last two options, at least with my mother, are the same thing.  

She found an unidentified [poo] object in her basement.

Sometimes I am at a loss for words.  Not often... but sometimes.  Last week I called my hoarding mother to check in.  And so the fun began.

"The weirdest and craziest thing happened today.  It was UNREAL."

[Okay.  That statement instantly makes me tense up, since I know that it is going to be one of two things, both that I allow to make me angry:

1. It will be something so mundane, something that is not an issue or a problem, that she will magnify to the 1,000,000,000,000,000th degree or more...
2. It will be simply... batshit crazy...

So I brace myself mentally...]

"Aren't you going to ask me what?"

*crickets chirping*

"...[Long monologue of her trying morning and what she meant to do spoken as if she were Sisyphus pushing the rock, which is basically 1/10th of what most folks accomplish in the AM before coffee] and then I went downstairs for the first time in a week and I found it.  [Silence- waiting for me to ask or show interest.  She finally continues on...] It was there at the foot of the stairs! I went outside and checked all the windows, and there are no openings!  It was like a curled up leaf, and it had birdseed through it! [I will spare you the back and forth, but it was apparently poo of some sort.  And her cats never go down stairs.  And she simply would not say the word poo, turd, shit or any other word that describes feces.  When I asked her more than once directly - she would say, weakly... "I guess" but would not call it what it was.]"

"I picked it up with [long boring monologue of the extreme precautions she used to pick up the poo] and it did not have a smell."

Did you smell it?  

"Yes!"

Okay, you have no sense of smell.  So it would have to be horrifically smelly for you to determine an odor, correct? 

"I guess."

No way it is a cocoon that hatched?  Is it hollow?  Is it poo?  Could there be birdseed you forgot about in the basement?  [Keep in mind, this is the 14 block basement that is hoarded completely to only 18 inches or so below the ceiling.]  

"No..." And the denial begins.  And the weird description of the poo without using the normal poo-like terms.  She asserts she knows every stick of what is in there.  Every item, every piece.  

I ask if her recollection of that is similar to the recollection that resulted in the harvest of chocolate chips dated 1983 in her freezer (yes- she writes the date on each item in a sharpie, and has as long as I can remember).  Or the steaks she found dated 1991 or 1992.  She got annoyed at that point.

Our conversation evolved to her continuing her escalating monologue of asking herself questions and answering... talking about mice, rats, and other vermin and what their poo looks like.  Well- her conversation.  I looked in my review mirror and realized I was speeding down the highway with a godawful grimace on my face.

She has been throwing all kinds of bread, cereal, and other crap down 'for the birds' and it has been drawing skunks, possums, raccoons and other types of vermin into the yard which she thinks is 'cute'.  She also feeds many feral cats and has found possums and skunks in the jacked up, hoardy set up she has for them.  Surprise, surprise, surprise.  NOT.  About 10 years ago she had a plastic can on the porch with birdseed in it, and field mice chewed through it, and there were about 40 mice on the sun porch at any time, and she refused to do anything about them since they were 'cute'.  Until she saw one go up the foundation and disappear under the siding.  Then she got poison and killed them, claiming none made it into the house.  I call BS on that one.  She also continued to speculate that rat poo looks like big mouse poo.  I replied that depends on what they have been eating:-)

I reminded her of the many warnings I have given her about encouraging the 'critters' to use her yard as a feeding location, and advised her that houses with a lot of stuff in them like hers often end up with some sort of infestation.  She was absolutely beside herself denying that was possible.  She stated the cats would want down there if anything was there, and upon hearing that the stairs would stink of human, the house, and the cats, and most rodents, et al are nocturnal, and she takes her hearing aid out, and confines the cats to the bathroom-gulag-hell at night... The denial went into overdrive.  

She started getting angry when I suggested that a possum or something could have found its way in like the mouse tried to.  [Evil I know, but sometimes passive aggressive turnabout is one of the few benefits I get to these conversations.]

Finally, I asked if there was a State University Agricultural Extension Office in her town.  She could take the 'item' there and possibly know what it was.  Or, stop by Fish and Game.  [They can throw money, I know they will want to thank me!]  She did not say it, but I could almost hear her mind churning ... doing that would acknowledge she had something in her house!  The HORROR!

That was the only solution I offered.  After the Debit Card Debacle... [see a few blogs ago] I am not giving her any solutions.  It is a waste of effort.  She started complaining that she did not want people in the house because they steal everything and no one will do anything right and no one wants to work... Yadda, yadda... BOO.

I advised her that it would be nearly impossible to exterminate the basement with the amount of stuff that was there.  Her response?

"Well.  The only reason I do that is to block the windows so {the hated neighbor in the turn} can't get in here.  It is my security system."

Um- it was that way before {hated neighbor} returned to the area.

"He is escalating!  He will get in here!  It is just a matter of time!"

I am concerned that if you have something in there, the house is a fire/deathtrap anyway with all the stuff and the wiring that has not been updated since the house was built in 1966 or 68 or whenever, and has not been maintained.

"I need to keep those windows blocked!  I have to..."

Okay.  Here.  Gotta go.

______________

Subsequent conversations?  The mystery poo has not been mentioned.  And I am not asking.  

Not that I am a fan of Larry the Cable Guy but...

Moles.  

Just in case you are not into US pop culture here is a [BAD] link to give you the idea...

http://www.myspace.com/video/kevin/larry-the-cable-guy/33606430 

So, lucky me, my mother has other anatomical obsessions other than hair on her lip and down south, poop, and anything else that can ooze or erupt.  Yup- the woman is simply obsessed with talking about her moles.  And she apparently has A LOT of them.  In seriously unsavory places.  And she likes to describe them in detail that would make a proctologist PUKE.

So... I call to check in, and in the midst of some rant she switches to how she caught a mole in her plastic underpants that cover her adult diaper and she now knows what is making it sore since IT IS STILL STUCK THERE.

<Retching>

You are welcome.  If I have to have that visual... I am taking someone with me to the aisle of memory bleach and a brain plunger.  

She then tries to begin to talk about what she found sticking her hand down in the diaper, and rooting around.

Um... NO.  I would like to have some sort of peaceful, happy, appetizing thought come back to me in the next day or two.

YOU ARE WELCOME!!!!

Welcome to my world...

Been a long time... but... More of 'Wait... What?'

Sorry I have been remiss in my blogging of late.  Long work weeks and all kinds of technical drama (surly hotspots, failing servers, OH MY!) that is boring but tedious.  I am hoping to come out on the other side, alive, and hopefully... sane.  Or as sane as I ever hope to be.

So a bit of Oh. My. God. She. Did. Not. Actually. Say. THAT!

I called to check in on her.  She has been a bit more measured and calm lately since I have been pretty much silent on the calls, and getting off very quickly when the negativity escalates.  

I was driving along, not really paying all that much attention when she diverts to a story about her cats doing something that cats normally do, especially when they are in a HOARD.  Poor things.  Anyway- all I caught was the tail end of a sentence.  What I thought I heard was:

"...the little YARD APES."

And as I drive along with my mouth ajar... she says those two words over and over again...

So I decided to ask her about it. I suspected the origins of this type of comment that she would assert is simply harmless vernacular-  but I perversely had to ask her about it.

So Mom, that term.  What do you mean by it?

"Why do you ask?  There is nothing wrong with it!  It is what I call unruly children!  Why I ..."

So do you think that someone might perceive that as having racist origins?

"NOOOO!  You are acting like you did over me calling 'black' people 'colored' or 'negroids'.  It is not like I say the N-word."

Is there any type of slang or familiar word of that sort you would use in its stead?  A synonym perhaps?

"... [sulkily]... your dad would have said 'porch monkeys'..."

[And I loved, still love my father.  But I in no part love his racism, classism, or ethnocentrism.]

"You know what that is right?  That is pejorative term like the N-word.  It is like constantly calling folks and their families 'tribes' or 'that tribe'."

---dial tone---

My other most recent go-around with her was her sizeism and fat shaming behavior.  She is obsessed with those who have higher BMIs.  The disdain in her voice, the shaming, the assumptions... and she seems to forget... to her once morbidly obese daughter.  As a older teen I struggled to get above 98 pounds until I was ready to graduate college, then in my later 20's I gained, but in my thirties my weight bounced up and down.  As it has in my forties.  Right now I am a size 10 misses (US) but at my largest I was in a 22W (also US).  It has been 2 1/2 years of dieting, working out, and hard work to get here.  I would like to lose 30 pounds more, but my focus is on overall health.

Also, with her preoccupation with folks' appearances, their weight, etc. one would think that she herself is appropriately dressed, coiffed, showered, and is blade thin.  Not the case.  Personal hygiene is poor at best (a real shower and hair washing once a week is a goal she seldom meets).  I could go on, but you get the idea.  Sadly- part of this illness is the amazing lack of insight or empathy.  She makes statements about those she describes as 'fat' as being 'sloppy' and 'shoving food in [his or her] face' and other types of judgement  but her gains are due to medication, etc. I am constantly shamed for my weight, appearance, etc.  'I am so shocked ... you were always so 'trim' as a youngster...'  

Although I try to find humor in the narcissism of this illness, it often frustrates me, and makes me sad.  How miserable it must be to be so ill that you must surround yourself in objects, and drive off any chance of a normal relationship with anyone... even your children.  How simply devastating it must be to live one's life as opportunity lost, and to always be nursing hurts from 70+ years of experience as if they happened today, and to be so caught in the web of personality disorders and addiction that you cannot even remotely begin to see other people as separate, having separate experiences, perceptions and points of view.

Hoarding... No one wins.  No one.  Someday I hope... 

Well... I think we all know what I hope.  I don't think I am being pessimistic when I say I am very confident that I will not get what I hope for her.  I think I am being realistic.

Have a good night all.  Peace.

Bang, bang, BANG. That is my head on the desk. A humorous call...

[Abruptly changing direction mid rant] ..."how do you use that thing and do it?"

Huh?  What?  I have no idea what you are speaking about.

"How do you shave the hair off of your lip?  Do you go up and down, across...?"

We have had this discussion 15 thousand times.  I am lucky that I do not have dark hair on my lip (at least yet).  That is YOU.  Hormone changes.  Mid-seventies.  That whole thing.

"... [inane description in agonizing detail of the hair on her upper lip and the inconvenience of it all] I do not know WHY this is happening. I let it grow out and showed it to my doctor.  Know what he said?"

Besides Ewww?

"He just laughed!  He didn't address it!  Not the hair on my lip or on my chin!  He just told me to use my favorite hair removal method!  I am not waxing!  It HUUUURTS!"

<Banging head> You can get it done professionally you know...

"I DID!  At the beauty school before it went out of business!"

That is not what I was talking about.

"You mean electrolysis? I see that place when I drive."

[Explaining the process and that in hormone/aging it can have limited results...]

"I am NOT doing that!  Why am I bothered with this?  I do not see other women that have hair like this on their lip and chin..."

That is because they choose to deal with it!  The women who choose to remove it (and some do not) make it part of their personal hygiene routine, often daily or as often as needed!

"Do they put anything on it?"

On what?  

"Their lip!  To keep it from getting hard!"

What?

"You know, your upper lip gets hard after you shave it."

Um- NO.  I do not.  Mine does not.  So you have a lip erection?  WHAT gets hard?

"[Ignoring my question entirely] So you do not put any cream or lotion on your lip when you shave?"

DEAR GOD!  NO!  I do not have to shave or do hair removal there!  That is YOU!  We are separate and completely unique people!  We are not remotely physically alike!  Remember?  The DNA contribution from my father?  The fact that he was a large part Native American?  The fact that I have essentially 0 body hair except for the top of my head and my eyebrows?

"So how do these other women do not have all the ...[I will save you the minute and gross detail] on their lip and chin?"

Because those that do, and those that choose to remove it, make it part of their normal beauty routine.  They know if they need to deal with it weekly, daily, less frequently, etc.  If you stay on it, especially using an electric trimmer, you should never see it.

"[Weakly] I guess."

So- shower and wash your hair each day.  Give your lip and chin a quick swipe...

"Don't get carried away.  You are weird with all your showering."

Wait.  What?  I shower at least once a day, no matter what.  And if I go to the gym, work out, am physically active, working in something dirty, etc. I will shower again.  How is that excessive?  

[Changes subject]

Argh!!!!!!!!!!  This from the woman who got her hair cut the last time I did, and did not wash her hair for 18 days.  Then went to the salon in Walmart and had them do it.  

YUK.