disabilities

My buddy was talking about his co-workers who make fun of people with disabilities. Amazing. How can people be so heartless?

Damn...

The frustration continues... all the running around that DH and I have been doing seems to be for naught as we watch our $ go down the drain...

I have always tried to be nice to people but I don't know how to be nice to people who have raked us over the coals.

This is what I get for being nice... stabbed in the back.

it's not all gloom and doom

It's great to see family and friends, especially catching up with those I haven't seen in a while. The gals all look great, they never change. The guys, well, the libations, cubans and couch potato athlete lifestyle catches up to you after a while.

So I had a chat with my lapsed Catholic buddy and we talked about the sex scandal in the Catholic church. Child abuse was and is a heinous crime. The coverups, the shuffling of Father X and Father Y from parish to parish was uncalled for. We both know guilty priests personally and are heartsick about it. It's always on my mind and I'll never get over the anger. My buddy asked how I could still go to Mass, even be active in the church. I told him that I had given that a lot of thought, and honestly, there were times when I wasn't so active and wanted out. No offense, but I just couldn't picture myself as a Lutheran after all these years immersed in Catholicism.

After news of the scandal broke, I recall one priest saying that the church needs us (the congregation) more than ever. (Translation: needs our money to pay off massive debt) What inspired me was one woman saying that the poor and needy still needed our help, no matter what. We were still called by God to serve. She is so right. It's not about whether you attend Mass or not, what religion (if any) you belong to - get off the couch, roll up your sleeves, be thankful for your blessings and get to work.

I told my buddy that I still believe there are good priests out there, rotten apples don't spoil the whole bunch. Our congregation (like those of other faiths and secular organizations as well) does a lot of good work with the children, poor and elderly. Warts, occasional disagreements and all, we are still a family and I'm happy to be a part of it.

They smile in your face...

... all the time they wanna take your place/the backstabbers... (thanks, O'Jay's)

Why is this? I thought the mean girls thing went out in junior high. People that I thought were "friends" pulled a fast one on me. Shame on me for being naive and trusting them, right? The expression is "stabbed in the back" but it feels like my heart has been ripped out of my body. Unreal.

I call my father's accountant and tell her that I'm mailing a copy of the 2008 tax return to the lawyer. Instead of asking "How's Dad?", she reprimands me for not paying the bill, saying we owe her $140. (Like she's really hurting for cash, an accountant in a ritzy neighborhood) I tell her we never got the bill, but I'll send the payment out right away, and she's still nasty. I didn't go down to her level (yay for me), just sent the damn check, along with all the other damn checks I sent out yesterday.

My Dad had opened up a bank account with the little b*tch he tells people is his friend. I knew that was a bad idea, some relatives and neighbors said that you can't trust the little witch with a b. I tried to talk him out of it, as usual, but he did the hand waving thing and the loud "no, no, no" he does. Drives me nuts.

We go to the bank, and guess what? The little b*tch closed it out already. She took his $ and ran. Goody for her, but I don't know how she sleeps at night.

Sadly, today would have been my parents' 47th Anniversary if my mom had lived. They say she's at peace, she's in a "better place", yada, yada, yada. I can't help but think that she must be looking down and crying, watching all the turmoil that is going on, the way the little b*tch befriended Dad and me, and we fell for her act - hook, line and sinker. I know better now, but I can't undo all the damage the little b*tch has done to my family.

I cringe whenever people assume that the little b*tch is my mom. One said "oh, you look just like her". (Translation: short and fat) Geez, thanks.

only child

Being an adult only child sucks.

Ok, let me give you the abridged version of the backstory. (more details later) It may sound a little like Carol Burnett's spoof of "Mildred Pierce", lol.

I was born in a little town...

I didn't ask to be an only child of older parents. I got - and still get - all the nasty comments from clueless people: "Oh, you must be so spoiled!", "You don't know how to share.", "Lucky you! You can have my brother."... and on and on...

I inherited a series of health problems - a mixture of bad genes, mutations, bad luck, second hand smoke, "old" eggs and sperm, etc. (Yes, I hear all the stories about the older mommies and daddies who have babies that turned out "just fine" and I'm not arguing that. Most of them do seem fine. I wish them well. But I think you are playing Russian Roulette when you decide to have a late in life baby. My immediate family wasn't one of the lucky ones.)

Donning flame retardant suit...

Back in the day, if you didn't have Downs Syndrome, which I don't, although I may have Mosaic Downs, who knows?, you were considered to be "slow" or "lazy" and just needed to "work harder" if you had problems socially or academically. It didn't help that every time I cried (God forbid, a child should have they audacity to cry when they're upset) my father told my mother that I was "mental". That's just the tip of the iceberg. Nice guy, huh?

On top of everything else, I was a short, fat, ugly kid with (eventually) acne, braces, glasses and a butt so huge it belongs in the Guinness Book of World Records. I was a clumsy oaf. Ah, the carefree, joyful days of childhood...

If you're saying that "oh, get over it", "move on", "it was years ago" and stop the pity party then perhaps this blog isn't for you. The point is no child - or adult, for that matter - should be emotionally or physically abused. If, through this blog and my other endeavors, I can help even one person feel that they're not alone, if I can inspire them to seek help if they need it, if I can help make them feel somewhat better and that they're worth something, then it's good.

Sometimes some people laugh and scoff because I'm "overenthusiastic" about parties and whatnot. It just feels so good to have some friends and family. I want to savor the moment, even if it's mundane to some of them. Yes, here she (me) goes again with her camera and her cards with the cornball prose. If you see me laughing and singing now and then, it doesn't mean that I don't acknowledge the seriousness of my father's illness and my soap opera (minus the glamour) life. Who the h-e-double hockey sticks does Mary Peck think she is??? Well, Mary Peck is happy for family and friends as they celebrate birthdays, anniversaries, etc. and just wants to share in their happiness and have a little joy in her life. Is that so wrong?

Back to my life with Dad. Well, long story short, childhood sucked (yeah, I know church ladies like moi aren't supposed to use that expression, but too bad - it fits) but there were some good folks I met along the way whose kindness inspired me and will always stay with me. Some fun times and memories in spite of it all.

Mom (who I'll call "Kay") passed away suddenly nearly 11 years ago. She was active in her parish and community, doing charity work and living simply. Several years later, Dad (who I sometimes refer to as "Joe", although that's not his real name. Names have been changed to protect the guilty, lol.) met a widow who I will call the "little b*tch", although I just thought she was just little at the time. For blog purposes, I'll call her "Bea" (again, not her real name). Nearly everyone referred to her as "the girlfriend" (wtf?) although they were just friends.

Bea and Joe went to senior citizen events, played cards and other mundane stuff. Joe became closer to Bea's children and grandchildren than his own, eventually deciding to sell his house for a bag of peanuts to Bea's son, who made a tidy profit on the house. DH and I reiterated the fact that Joe was always welcome to live with us, that we would make every accomodation to make him comfortable and happy. However, Joe chose to move in with Bea and wily Bea found ways to take over most of Joe's savings (he was not affluent by any means, but he was from the depression era and had squirreled away every penny) via a joint bank account, etc. Joe paid Bea $1000 a month in rent in addition to putting $ towards paying her bills. Attempts made by family and friends, including the elder lawyer that DH and I needed to hire in order to try to protect Joe, to show Joe that Bea was not the sweet little old lady she appeared to be were met with angry shouts of "no!" and fists waving in the air from Joe. When Joe has mind made up about something, you can't change it.

Bea continued to give Joe her sob story about how she was a poor widow with no pension, had to pay the mortgage, etc. He made her a beneficiary on an annuity. Joe's health worsened, and last September he had triple bypass surgery. DH and my kids lives were literally turned upside down as we visited, prayed, met with doctors and struggled to find a way to pay Joe's bills. He had some insurance, thank God, but it runs out and he hadn't made any provisions for long term care - i.e. Medicaid. (Don't make the same mistakes! I'm warning you!) Every time in the past that I had tried to talk to him about such complicated issues it was the old angry I don't wanna discuss it thing.

As the priest came in to the hospital to give Joe Last Rites, Bea came in to ask Joe for $10,000. (I swear I'm not making this up.) She called me asking for the money and told me that "one hand washes the other" (I guess she thought one should get paid to be a "friend") and "you know, I don't have a pension". I just said uh huh and got on the horn to our elder care attorney who explained the rules for gifting money to others, that giving Bea $10,000 was a no-no, that Joe, if he survives, will need the $ for his long-term care. I explained all this to Bea, thinking that would be the end of it. (Silly me; she's still asking for cash. Now she wants "gas money" so that she can visit Joe.)

More complications ensued, and eight months later he is living in a rehab/nursing home facility, often refusing to try to get off the ventilator, often refusing to eat and becoming dehydrated, often refusing to attend therapy and try to do all the things that may help him get better. His savings are being depleted.

I should note that, after consultation with the elder care attorney, I promptly paid Bea $1000 in rent each month even though Joe was hospitalized and not living there (can you say "sucker"???). DH and I cleaned his room out so she can rent it to another sucker. Also, Bea's son that bought Joe's house lives a stone's throw away from Bea and goes on vacation every month. Bea's other son also has a good job and call well afford to take care of mother, so Bea doesn't need $ from Joe.

Shall we go on Jerry Springer?

And so, how was your week?

more drama to follow...

I digressed from my original theme about the pitfalls of being an only, but whatever...