Something that I haven't mentioned recently but that plays a pivotal role in what happened yesterday needs to come to light. Chloe's been playing a little game recently where she won't get her keys out to let herself into the house. Monday, as I was coming out of the kitchen, I glimpsed her standing at the front door holding her cellphone to her ear and dangling from that hand was a set of keys. Since I didn't feel like getting a blast full of stony teenaged silence, I went into my room. Then the tapping started. And continued. She was actually tapping the door with the keys to be let in. She wasn't speaking into the phone glued to her ear, so I assume she could have put it down in order to let herself in. By the time I walked out to let her in, she had her hand on the doorbell.
Okay, that was once this week. Yesterday I was recovering from a really bad night. I ended up taking an Ativan around 4 in the morning and had to get up for a 9am doctor's appointment. After getting home from the appointment, I thought I'd sleep the drug induced grogginess off. I had just drifted off when Chloe' called to be let into the house. Nice. I let her in and got the same stonefaced silence that I've been privy to for the last month. Nap attempt number 2. The phone rings and it's Dixie wanting to know if Chole' made it in okay because she's not answering her phone.
After I tell Dixie that Chloe' is here, I offer to go tap on her door to let her know that Dixie would like to speak to her. Dixie's not interested, so I attempt nap number 3. Phone rings.
As someone recovering from transplant the minutiae of the day to day becomes ridiculously important. The loss of an extra hour's sleep snowballs into a general sense of feeling rundown and being left open to all of those niggling things that you're generally able to keep at bay.
I've felt uneasy here for the last few months. There's an overall sense of unwelcome. It's become more and more obvious over the last 3 months. Little comments here and there, whispered conversations. It's an alien thing when you're relying on the kindness of a family member.
We all know there are a myriad of hidden dynamics when dealing with people you're related to. Some people hang on to things from twenty years ago, others project their feelings of displeasure for one individual onto another. Some people refuse to see the fault in one particular person. Others find nothing but fault in one person. We've all lived and observed it.
I'm the blunt one. I'll tell you what I think with the censor button off. I am legend in my family for it. It's something that I've worked very hard on. Rather than get in your face about something, I'll attempt to get you to recognize the offending behavior. I'll ask you nicely to stop something. If that doesn't work, I'll ask someone close to you if they wouldn't mind approaching it. I worry about hurting your feelings while my anxiety level hovers somewhere around the outer stratosphere.
After Chris found out about the door game, he decided that he would approach Dixie to find out what was going on. Dixie turned it into an argument about feeling unwelcome in her own house. I know I'm airing the dirty laundry, but this blog is about telling the truth about my health and my life, good, bad and ugly. When he couldn't get anywhere with Dixie, he approached Chloe'. Chloe' elected to hide behind a closed door and refused to speak to Chris. Of everyone in the house, he was the one who managed to maintain his cool. With Dixie yelling at him and Chloe' being Chloe', I was the one who lost it.
I finally let months of anxiety and the fear of dying from some stupid infection picked up in this house propel me out of my room and into the hall way. When Chloe' continued to refuse to open the door, I actually threw my entire weight at it and broke the little latch lock. I then proceeded to tell her in very colorful terms what I thought of her. Not my finest moment, I promise you.
I have since apologized to Dixie who told me in no uncertain terms that I have made her feel like a guest in her own home from the beginning. When I asked her for specific examples of what I had done so I could apologize and address them, she changed the subject over to not being able to have friends or a grandchild over. The two times we've had to live here, she's never mentioned wanting to have friends or guests over and we've never expressly said she couldn't. It's her house. Chris and I are the guests.
I told her that I was sorry she felt that way and that if she ever wanted to have anyone over, I'd be happy to leave the house for the time they were here. She kept saying that wasn't what she was lead to believe. Since this was the first time that I've ever had the conversation with her, I don't know what she was lead to believe. She was given the same list of instructions from MDA that we were. I assumed that she interpreted them differently than they were intended and tried to broach it with her. I was told that it was my situation that was making her feel unwelcome.
I am my situation.
If the roles were reversed and I was a satellite caregiver who was asked to be sure they washed their hands, didn't do any planting inside the house, and to please pay particular attention to cleaning up after themselves, and to try and avoid people with active infections, I'd do my best. If I wasn't sure of something, I'd ask for clarification, but that's just me and we all don't think alike. Dixie has told me in no uncertain terms that my situation has negatively impacted her life.
She refused to finish the conversation, so I was only able to offer an apology for my behavior. I haven't seen or spoken to her since last night. Chris has and was told that Dixie believes that I am an abusive person. She believes that I will be following behind Chloe' clutching a clipboard and recording her every transgression. I will never be able to do anything to change her mind in that regard because of that one incident. In the entirety of my life, I have never "broken" down a door. The only time I've ever been in a physical fight, I was 9 and my brother was 6. He punched out one of my front teeth and left me with a pretty healthy bald spot. We managed to resolve our differences and it never happened again.
I spend my days tucked away in the small room Chris and I call home. I go out to get something to eat and to use the bathroom. When Chloe's here, I do my best to stay quiet and remain in this room with the cats for company. My forays out of the room are timed to coincide with no one being home. When I make a mess in the kitchen, I clean it up along with all the other messes that have been left from the morning shift. Imagine crumbs and coffee grinds on counters and pink cream cheese smears. Yesterday, there was a cone coffee filter in the sink full of lucky charms. I let Dixie's cat into the house and go back to hiding in the room. If I'm feeling up to making dinner, I'll make a little something for us and be sure I've cleaned up my mess before Dixie gets home. She's never said anything about expecting me to do it. I just feel like it's a common courtesy.
I used to try and have dinner ready and on the table for everyone. I thought it would be nice for Dixie to come home from a day of work and not have to cook anything. When I figured out that my cooking wasn't to their tastes, I stopped because food was getting thrown away. Now I just cook for me and Chris.
Each time we've had to stay here, we pay the full amount of the utility bills. Dixie has never asked us to, but we know her resources are limited and I know how difficult it can be having to share your house with so many people. There have been times where either Chris or I have secretly paid on some of her other accounts to get them current. Last year, we each did it on the same account without knowing the other had done it. Dixie hasn't remarked on any of it. We don't do it in order to hear "thank you," but out of gratitude for being able to stay here while we sort our lives out.
I'm going to be 35 this year. I've never punched anyone in anger. The one guy I slapped in college definitely deserved it. I don't believe in spanking children as a form of corrective action. I don't believe in hitting animals as a form of corrective action. Am I trying to convince you, the reader that I'm not an abusive person. No. You've never met me. I'm trying to reason my life out right now. If I pick up a butter knife too quickly, will Dixie cringe in fear? If I set my glass down too hard, am I making aggressive overtures? I don't know. I do know that this is a rift that will never be healed, regardless of how many apologies I make.
Chris is upset about the entire affair, and rightfully so. I've apologized to him and heard him out each time he needs to bring it up. I will not defend my actions. I was wrong and I acted horribly. I have acknowledged it and apologized.
As for what I said to Chloe', the language I chose to use was wrong, but the underlying sentiment was true. I will never be able to apologize for it without it sounding hollow and I know that will be held against me for a very long time. So here I am, warts and all trying to pick up and move forward. I'll probably ruffle a few more feathers by posting this, but I really feel that the readers deserve an honest view of what life has been like these past few months.
Okay, that was once this week. Yesterday I was recovering from a really bad night. I ended up taking an Ativan around 4 in the morning and had to get up for a 9am doctor's appointment. After getting home from the appointment, I thought I'd sleep the drug induced grogginess off. I had just drifted off when Chloe' called to be let into the house. Nice. I let her in and got the same stonefaced silence that I've been privy to for the last month. Nap attempt number 2. The phone rings and it's Dixie wanting to know if Chole' made it in okay because she's not answering her phone.
After I tell Dixie that Chloe' is here, I offer to go tap on her door to let her know that Dixie would like to speak to her. Dixie's not interested, so I attempt nap number 3. Phone rings.
As someone recovering from transplant the minutiae of the day to day becomes ridiculously important. The loss of an extra hour's sleep snowballs into a general sense of feeling rundown and being left open to all of those niggling things that you're generally able to keep at bay.
I've felt uneasy here for the last few months. There's an overall sense of unwelcome. It's become more and more obvious over the last 3 months. Little comments here and there, whispered conversations. It's an alien thing when you're relying on the kindness of a family member.
We all know there are a myriad of hidden dynamics when dealing with people you're related to. Some people hang on to things from twenty years ago, others project their feelings of displeasure for one individual onto another. Some people refuse to see the fault in one particular person. Others find nothing but fault in one person. We've all lived and observed it.
I'm the blunt one. I'll tell you what I think with the censor button off. I am legend in my family for it. It's something that I've worked very hard on. Rather than get in your face about something, I'll attempt to get you to recognize the offending behavior. I'll ask you nicely to stop something. If that doesn't work, I'll ask someone close to you if they wouldn't mind approaching it. I worry about hurting your feelings while my anxiety level hovers somewhere around the outer stratosphere.
After Chris found out about the door game, he decided that he would approach Dixie to find out what was going on. Dixie turned it into an argument about feeling unwelcome in her own house. I know I'm airing the dirty laundry, but this blog is about telling the truth about my health and my life, good, bad and ugly. When he couldn't get anywhere with Dixie, he approached Chloe'. Chloe' elected to hide behind a closed door and refused to speak to Chris. Of everyone in the house, he was the one who managed to maintain his cool. With Dixie yelling at him and Chloe' being Chloe', I was the one who lost it.
I finally let months of anxiety and the fear of dying from some stupid infection picked up in this house propel me out of my room and into the hall way. When Chloe' continued to refuse to open the door, I actually threw my entire weight at it and broke the little latch lock. I then proceeded to tell her in very colorful terms what I thought of her. Not my finest moment, I promise you.
I have since apologized to Dixie who told me in no uncertain terms that I have made her feel like a guest in her own home from the beginning. When I asked her for specific examples of what I had done so I could apologize and address them, she changed the subject over to not being able to have friends or a grandchild over. The two times we've had to live here, she's never mentioned wanting to have friends or guests over and we've never expressly said she couldn't. It's her house. Chris and I are the guests.
I told her that I was sorry she felt that way and that if she ever wanted to have anyone over, I'd be happy to leave the house for the time they were here. She kept saying that wasn't what she was lead to believe. Since this was the first time that I've ever had the conversation with her, I don't know what she was lead to believe. She was given the same list of instructions from MDA that we were. I assumed that she interpreted them differently than they were intended and tried to broach it with her. I was told that it was my situation that was making her feel unwelcome.
I am my situation.
If the roles were reversed and I was a satellite caregiver who was asked to be sure they washed their hands, didn't do any planting inside the house, and to please pay particular attention to cleaning up after themselves, and to try and avoid people with active infections, I'd do my best. If I wasn't sure of something, I'd ask for clarification, but that's just me and we all don't think alike. Dixie has told me in no uncertain terms that my situation has negatively impacted her life.
She refused to finish the conversation, so I was only able to offer an apology for my behavior. I haven't seen or spoken to her since last night. Chris has and was told that Dixie believes that I am an abusive person. She believes that I will be following behind Chloe' clutching a clipboard and recording her every transgression. I will never be able to do anything to change her mind in that regard because of that one incident. In the entirety of my life, I have never "broken" down a door. The only time I've ever been in a physical fight, I was 9 and my brother was 6. He punched out one of my front teeth and left me with a pretty healthy bald spot. We managed to resolve our differences and it never happened again.
I spend my days tucked away in the small room Chris and I call home. I go out to get something to eat and to use the bathroom. When Chloe's here, I do my best to stay quiet and remain in this room with the cats for company. My forays out of the room are timed to coincide with no one being home. When I make a mess in the kitchen, I clean it up along with all the other messes that have been left from the morning shift. Imagine crumbs and coffee grinds on counters and pink cream cheese smears. Yesterday, there was a cone coffee filter in the sink full of lucky charms. I let Dixie's cat into the house and go back to hiding in the room. If I'm feeling up to making dinner, I'll make a little something for us and be sure I've cleaned up my mess before Dixie gets home. She's never said anything about expecting me to do it. I just feel like it's a common courtesy.
I used to try and have dinner ready and on the table for everyone. I thought it would be nice for Dixie to come home from a day of work and not have to cook anything. When I figured out that my cooking wasn't to their tastes, I stopped because food was getting thrown away. Now I just cook for me and Chris.
Each time we've had to stay here, we pay the full amount of the utility bills. Dixie has never asked us to, but we know her resources are limited and I know how difficult it can be having to share your house with so many people. There have been times where either Chris or I have secretly paid on some of her other accounts to get them current. Last year, we each did it on the same account without knowing the other had done it. Dixie hasn't remarked on any of it. We don't do it in order to hear "thank you," but out of gratitude for being able to stay here while we sort our lives out.
I'm going to be 35 this year. I've never punched anyone in anger. The one guy I slapped in college definitely deserved it. I don't believe in spanking children as a form of corrective action. I don't believe in hitting animals as a form of corrective action. Am I trying to convince you, the reader that I'm not an abusive person. No. You've never met me. I'm trying to reason my life out right now. If I pick up a butter knife too quickly, will Dixie cringe in fear? If I set my glass down too hard, am I making aggressive overtures? I don't know. I do know that this is a rift that will never be healed, regardless of how many apologies I make.
Chris is upset about the entire affair, and rightfully so. I've apologized to him and heard him out each time he needs to bring it up. I will not defend my actions. I was wrong and I acted horribly. I have acknowledged it and apologized.
As for what I said to Chloe', the language I chose to use was wrong, but the underlying sentiment was true. I will never be able to apologize for it without it sounding hollow and I know that will be held against me for a very long time. So here I am, warts and all trying to pick up and move forward. I'll probably ruffle a few more feathers by posting this, but I really feel that the readers deserve an honest view of what life has been like these past few months.