finding frustration, followed by feeling foiled, frequently, I've got 'F' words to say, I guess

I snapped this while at my folks' house
recently thinking you all might enjoy it.
 Behind every great photo display unit from
 the 90s is a device used to chill food.
 At least hers is not in her dining room. 

(backing up the bus a little, because this was already prepared. In case you missed the news in my comments from Monday:  Reg had a grand mall seizure early Monday morning while I was trying to drive him to the ER. It was a long day as the docs decided what to do. More updates as they become available)

FRUSTRATION:  

Tuesday  (last week) - the day after Mom went in the hospital was a day filled with frustration.

I really felt sort of lost all day. I had a plan when I went to bed, when we thought Mom would be sent home in the morning. When Marie decided to come in town, I questioned my plan for the day and I ended up rearranging it. 

What on earth? 

I will be the first to admit that I didn't want to be flexible and allow Marie to dictate what time I went to the hospital. I chose to be a pain when she asked me to switch when I was going to go. I said NO. 

I had things to do. Coach was trying to convince me to consider that she was coming from another state, but from my perspective she didn't need to come. From my experience, Marie believes that she is the most important, if not the only, child my parents have. This has played out numerous times. Like when she thanks me for getting OUR parents groceries in bad weather. I'm not doing this to help her. 

This is what I saw in my family room early
 one morning the other day. Is it me? Did
you see a man's face? Ed was standing there
 and mid-sentence I was like OH, OH LOOK. 

HE'S NO COWBOY:  

In times like this everyone wants to feel helpful. When Dad was thrown from a horse in Yellowstone in '16 (not sure I shared that here before, but Dad almost died. Brain bleed, broken hip, 6 broken ribs), Marie tried to convince all of us to hire a private jet to fly him home or rent a medical RV to drive him home. 

Coach spoke up on the group phone call, saying HE'S IN A GREAT HOSPITAL, IT MAKES NO SENSE TO MOVE HIM RIGHT NOW. ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN IN THAT MEDICAL RV IN THE MIDDLE OF NO WHERE AND NOTHING CAN BE DONE THEN. 

Later Coach and I recognized the issue. Ann flew out with Mom after the accident, so she was there. Pat was the one travelling with him, so he was there. Mike agreed to fly out when Dad was ready to come home and help in that way. I never offered to fly out there, because I was needed at home and there was nothing I could do there. 

Translation:  I know things.

WHAT? YOU DON'T WANT TO STOOP TO MY LEVEL?

Marie wanted so desperately to fly out, because she hated the thought of sacrificing her cherished #1 kid spot, and perhaps she hated to be linked with someone like me - the only kid who wasn't going to make an appearance at a hospital in Wyoming. She was constantly offering to fly out and both Mom and Dad insisted that she not come. No need.

When Dad did come home, Mike flew out to help get him on and off the plane. He had to fend off well-intentioned people who kept offering to lift him by pulling him up from under his arms. Nope - Dad had 6 broken ribs. That was not gonna work. 

Anyway, Marie let all of us know that she was going to drive from Milwaukee to O'Hare to watch Dad get on the ambulance that would take him to the rehab hospital. She took photos and texted them to us. The tech on the ambulance in one of the photos looked super annoyed. 

She got lost on the way to the rehab hospital after leaving O'Hare and was the last to arrive. I was the first one there. (I rarely utter that phrase). When Marie arrived, she handed Mom a notebook. "This is all of the research that I did. All the different private jet and RV companies I talked to when I was trying to find another way to bring him home." 

I was dumbfounded. What on earth? That had been voted down weeks before he came home, but it seemed Marie wanted points for all of her effort. I know, I know, we all handle trauma differently. I just felt it was an odd time to brown nose. 

***********

FOILED IS THE NAME OF THE GAME:  

Initially Dad planned to go see Mom at the hospital after her mini-stroke, and then only one additional visitor could be there. I didn't want to get there and not be allowed in, because Marie was there. I decided to get there before her and then leave when she arrived. Mike convinced Dad to stay home anyway. 

Frustration followed my every move that day. 

At 10 am I left the house with both girls on my way to the hospital. I dropped Mini off at Coach's work to 'steal' his car - a practice we do almost daily. Later someone is tasked to go get him. It's 7 minutes away and across a major road from the club where the kids caddy, so it works. 

Mini was supposed to meet me at the golf club when I dropped Curly off around 11:30. Mini wasn't caddying. She'd registered for classes at ND that morning and she and I planned to go purchase her laptop for college. 

Curly and I saw Nana at the hospital. Shortly after Marie arrived, we left. We went to the bank to get Curly an account. She has a college account somewhere else, but I dislike intermingling her caddy and sitting cash with our money and then trying to remember to send it to the college account. Time to get her set up with a debit card, etc. 

I'd tried to do that last week, but I didn't have enough/correct paperwork. Her passport expired. She can't find her 8th grade student ID. I didn't have her birth certificate with me, thinking her social security card and recently expired passport was sufficient. They wouldn't let me do it. I wondered if her birth certificate was in the vault, but I didn't have the key with me to our safety deposit box.

After that initial fail, I went home and looked through my stack of birth certificates on my desk. It wasn't there. I had the presence of mind to grab the key to the safety deposit box on my way to the hospital. 

After the hospital, we went to the bank. There was no birth certificate in the vault. Foiled. 

I'd worked the whole morning around dropping Curly off to caddy. She heard from a fellow caddy that there was some event going on and they weren't using caddies, or something. Foiled. 

I called Mini who was supposed to meet me to do the computer thing. 

Mini:  So, I'm over at my friend B's house. N is over here letting out B's dogs while they are out of town. One of the dog's bumped into a door and locked N inside a room, so I had to come over. She handed me the key through the window and I had to let her out. 

Me:  Well get home because I want to leave to go get your computer.

Mini:  Sure. I don't want to stay here anyway. The dogs pooped inside the house. Then one of them slid in the poop and there is like poop everywhere. It is rank in here. (insert N dying laughing in the background). 

And there it is, Mini finding a way to blow my mind as I'm trying to figure out a plan and then re-configuring said plan.

**********

Have you ever heard of a dog locking a dog sitter in a room? Come on. Who thinks Mini just wanted to go visit the dogs with her friend? Any major brown noses in your family? Am I the only one who uses a safety deposit box any more?