Why do I even try? Part Two

Continued from Part One...

So... I went to a play the night of the disastrous conversation in regards to potentially giving my hoarding mother my car.  I hung up rather abruptly when arrived, and when I left the Theatre I decided to call back to finish the 'conversation'.  I am low contact, but I knew this would fester into drama if I allowed it to fester.

It was nearly 10:30pm, and she stays up late, but she allowed to call to go to voicemail.  I left a message, and that was that.  Or so I thought.

I was having trouble sleeping, and I was playing around on social media when my mother's neighbor posted and asked if I was awake, and when I indicated was, she said she could not call but would text.  It was around 2am.  

My mother had called the neighbor (the one she said would not help her anymore) and got her out of bed at 12:30am.  Allegedly my mother was choking on a piece of cooked broccoli and wanted to go to the emergency department and did not want to call an ambulance.  My mother's neighbor took her, and she said my mother could not speak when she pulled up and took her in.  She had normal BP and vitals, and an Xray showed nothing.  She was annoyed that they were not going to go down her throat and 'get it' and when they asked the standard advance directive/DNR question she said "You will need to call my daughter" and went into high drama.  The neighbor quickly interjected that there was no need to call me, it was a routine question.  She stated that my mother seemed disappointed that more heroic measures were not necessary and they were not going to call me.  By this point my mother is speaking more normally, and the neighbor said she would call me in the morning.  

At 10am the neighbor called me.  She was with my mother until 3:45am, and she had to get up at 7am for work.  She took her home after the doctor (in frustration, most likely, since she refused to cough hard because she would 'aspirate into her lungs') had her drink a soda and rise up onto her tiptoes and rock back to her heels.  Miraculously it worked on the second try.  The neighbor was trying not to laugh, as she saw it for what it was, a 'GTFO of my ER' maneuver.  I explained that I knew something was going to happen, and my conversation.  She asked me to call after I had talked to my mother.  I waited until 6pm, and since she had not called, I called her.  She recounted the events of the evening, ignoring my questions and making it much more dramatic in the retelling.  

The next day I called the neighbor and verified the veracity of my mother's version.  It was exaggerated on several counts and at least one detail was fabricated.  A few days later the neighbor has not called her.  She may have burnt that bridge.

Hoarding.  No one wins.