I met with Karen yesterday. I was late because of the snow. I left 15 minutes early, but we were at a stand-still on 90. I called and hung out with her answering machine to let her know I’d be a few minutes late. I called again to say we were moving now, but I’d be 10 minutes late at least. Her answering machine is not as nice as Cathy’s. I’ve become a critic of answering machines.
I did get there though. Through accidents and snow. We are barely into November and this stuff is here already. I was out there taking sun screens off of the dogs’ kennels yesterday and pouring hot water into their buckets. I didn’t even try the hose it had to be frozen. It was 26 degrees. Oh for Heaven’s sake, where is this global warming they have been promising. It’s too early to be a frost-bitten hose head.
And did I mention the grey-gloom? It was raining. Yes, at 28 degrees, raining on my car. Maybe it was sleet. And there was slush. And gusts of wind, filled with nasty hard snow. So many different words to describe the precipitation in November in NE Ohio. I am surprised no one has come up with the weather dictionary — NE Ohio version.
Karen did not have to ask The Question yesterday. Because I sent her an e-mail. I told her that we had my 50th birthday, they had a party, I talked to my brother, the essentials of that conversation, and that I was prepping for the colonoscopy that was happening on Friday. So The Question (that I hate) became, “so where do you want to start?” The e-mail was a little longer than that, and she actually replied and said, “You have had A LOT going on. Let’s process on Saturday.” So that was easier. There was so much to go over and only 60 minutes.
I began with telling my dad that I was back in therapy, and how that conversation came up, about women not having babies because they are selfish and stuff. That morphed into getting the wood chips and spilling them all over the busy highway in Madison.
Then I gave her a blow-by-blow description of my colonoscopy. They stabbed me three times to get the IV in. And yes, the woman pissed me off after the second stab where she went in horizontal and then turned that needle vertical and hurt me. I’ve given five gallons of blood, I am not that big of a wimp. When she left the room, I whispered to the other nurse asking if she would have someone else do the IV. She did. The next lady came in and did it in the other hand and It went in lickety split.
But then I waited. They make you come at 2 for a procedure that is scheduled for 3 that will actually begin sometime after 4 when you are good and mad. You tell them at 2:30 that your anxiety level is 10 out of 10. They LIE to you. They told me they would use the same stuff Dr. Kondru used 15 years ago. Then the doctor said, “it’s similar.” I told him I wanted it to be, “100, 99” and then my head struck my shoulder completely out. He laughed, and assured me the meds would be good. My dad asked about this stuff that starts with a P, but the doctor said they could only get that stuff and on Mondays and Wednesdays. WTF???? I still do not know what that was all about.
Well it was four o’clock and I was good and mad and finally the doctor was in the room with the right tubes and people and he tells me to turn on my side with my bum toward him (and the door which was wide open). I waited for him to for a few minutes, and I asked “Now?” and he said yes, and walked out of the room. I thought, “Bullshit!” I’ll wait until he comes back and I waited. Finally he came back in and said “Are you going to turn over?” I said, “Are you going to shut the door?” He looked and said, “oh, yeah, your right.” So they gave me drugs. Which did NOTHING.
They gave me more drugs. And more drugs. Nothing. I was way too alert. I kept looking at the guy. He kept telling to push more of this and more of that, and in the mean time he kept shoving this thing into me and I was NOT a happy camper. Then they started pushing Benadryl. Finally I started to fog. Then I was back in the room. It was hard to wake me up. The doctor did say that the next time they will use the stuff that started with a P. I survived. They snagged a couple of polyps and sent them for a biopsy. I need to repeat this in either 3 years or 5 depending on the results of the biopsy.
We still had about 20 minutes. I started to talk about Brian. I told her what happened. I told her how I was feeling about it. I told her I was more angry with him than I am at my mother. I told her I was angry with myself. I told her I was disappointed. I told her about the lady at the rape crisis center and the assessment, and how I was nervous about that, and she tried to walk me around the confidentiality block and I told her I didn’t give a damn if she shouted it from the mountain tops. I didn’t do anything wrong. I am not worried about protecting my brother any more.
I told Karen that I was offering something good, but he spit in my face. I was angry for having expectations for a drunkard.
I then told Karen that I feel like he is dead.
I think I talked for about 30 minutes. The next guy called and said he would be late. He wasn’t there when I was finished. Karen seems unconcerned with my anger. She said that it is raw right now and that it will take some time and that is ok. She told me not to let his behavior/response to stop or wipe out my progress. She said that she was proud of my using my skills to manage this, and that we are usually better than we think. She said that it was brave to do what I did.
I did tell her that I realized that what I wanted was validation from him. Even an “I wish that didn’t happen.” I had told her that I started to doubt myself and then said bullshit! At least Bobby did say “I remember it.” so many years ago.
I left there and got something to eat. It was a good session. I stopped to get canned food for Quinnie, and found a couple of stuffed GSD puppies that I thought my nieces would like, so I called my sister and went over there. I spent the rest of the day/evening with my sister. We talked about what happened. She agrees about him being a drunkard and not willing to accept responsibility, was avoiding. She said his hoarding is way out of control. His health is out of control. So is his wife. And his kid who graduated suma cum laude with an degree from Akron U in chemical engineering but is working in IT and living at home. She said that his drinking went off the deep end when his kid could not find a job. His kid has aspergers and has a little bit of trouble with speech, so interviewing was going to be a nightmare. He is working in a family firm now in IT where the owner knows my brother and knows he has the same problem. And Michael might work there forever, but it is not what the kid wants maybe, and living at home, he is not getting any distance from his anti-social parents, and they are reliant on him their only kid. It is a little toxic. Ah well, not my problem.
I had asked Karen when she was talking about understanding the situation, whether I should be giving him a pass, then. She said, no. Well, anyway. It has been a tough week. Cathy said that she is glad I had the conversation with him. Karen said we will talk next week about maybe pulling back, exit strategies from group.