My mother fell. Thought it was the 24th. More likely the 18th. Husband has probably had a stroke; he's doing that "my language centers were deprived of blood long enough to die" thing where "cruise" is "you're on the water and you are staying away from home" and "hardware store" is "place where you go to buy things that you fix to fix things" and "South Dakota" is "place on the plain with no taxes". He's also hitting the Xanax hard.
There's a Venn Diagram of "deceitful" "delusional" "forgetful" to every answer out of either of them. Husband didn't tell me he's on a cane, or that he asks to borrow the hospital's walker when he's there (hospitalist ratted him out). He tells me that he was going to go skiing with his son when he came out two weeks ago, except his son didn't come out. When I straight up asked if they were okay, if they'd been to the doctor, if they needed to go to the hospital or if they needed me to call 911 on Christmas, the answer was they were fine, they didn't need to go to the hospital, they hadn't gone to the hospital. No part of "we bailed on the emergency room against medical advice five days ago and she's been peeing on towels I throw in the washing machine" entered into the conversation.
Not one, not two but three hospitalists have told me they both need to be in assisted living. They haven't seen the house, which has a brick floor on dirt subject to frost heave and subsidence. They probably aren't even aware that you can't get to it without crossing pueblo land, or that the pueblo cops blockade the road and prohibit anyone who doesn't have a driver's license with the home address on it from entering. They certainly aren't aware that you can't call in, or that cell coverage only works if you stand in one spot in the yard. My mother has been unable to sleep in anything but a waterbed for at least fifty years. Last week her waterbed trapped her. I'm sure that betrayal is cutting deep.
My sister and I have been strategizing on this. Basically we need to get them to the "where, when and how do you want to die" discussion and let them discover that if "at home" is a part of that scenario, "when" becomes "two weeks before anybody finds your bodies" and "how" is "covered in your own shit and piss while being gnawed on by your awful fucking dog you're both afraid of." I need to blow up their house and turn it into elder care and I need to do it in a pandemic under pueblo embargo. Apparently my father paid about $400k into long term care insurance but as of a class action settlement dated Nov 21 2021 it's now worth $9k plus up to $188 a day after the first 100 days not to exceed $59,910.16. That's her. No idea about him. 'cuz he's my problem, too.
We tried to open a discussion with one of his two sons about getting his family on the page since this matters to them, too. That led to one of his stepdaughters calling him up and bitching about my sister being horrifically offensive at which point it was made clear that he was very much enjoying not being in contact with his children. He has not admitted to me that they cost him thousands of dollars a month. He has admitted to me that both of his sons are often homeless. Fresh fun, he informed the one my sister thought might be a reasonable conduit is also a convicted child molester who is currently unhoused because the family he was living with didn't like him grooming their kids.
Establishing what we're on the hook for with my mother involved calling my father, who apparently tried to dump his girlfriend on her sister over the holidays (the sister noped out and went back to the east coast). She's been falling too because of course their floor is made of saltillo tile and every step in that house is at a different pitch. Both of my parents have chosen to live in houses that killed their previous tenants through compounded falls, it's awesome. It also means that when that situation degenerates it will also collapse in a hurry. On the plus side the homeless child molester posse is in Cali and DC respectively while on my dad's side that estate is going to be a cow carcass in the Piranha River before their bodies are cold.
My sister keeps asking if we can be on a different TV show. Maybe "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous" or "Keeping up with the Kardashians". I said "yeah I'm getting sick of Breaking Bad" and she said "fuck Breaking Bad, GR is his own grandpa this is Springer shit". I did not realize that GR cheated on his 10-years-his-junior wife with his 5-years-his-senior mother-in-law who was also his drug dealer. She did not learn this until she sat down next to an acquaintance at the high school reunion who informed my sister that she was previously her sister in law, but is now her step aunt. On the plus side when GR does his supervised visitation he gets to bring the kids' grandma with.
Who fucking needs this shit
At this point I kinda prefer Mr. Tusks. At least he's shown some goddamn initiative. And I'd rather be in my position, recognizing that bringing a gun with me would only be helpful if I had any proficiency with a gun, than any of the children on the other side, who are going to be utterly bereft of income the minute either of my parents cack out.
And both of my parents may cack out any minute.