A Home Study, Stealing Trash & Skirting Slavery

This has been a rough couple of months…

I managed to get another week in to clean my mother and sister’s place earlier, and this time the worst of the safety hazard issues were tackled because after several calls to the county, my sister’s case worker was cleared to do a “Home Study.”

For those of you who don’t know, that phrase means a social worker is sent to the home to evaluate it for health, safety and so forth. Erica’s case manager, “Joan,” came to the place and she only looked in the door, but I showed her photos I had taken of the inside, so she could compare ‘before’ and ‘after’ the 6 days worth of cleaning I’ve been doing over the course of the last 2 months. It passed inspection, but only just-! And, honestly, I didn’t clean to help my mother pass inspection, I did it to help my sister who has to exist in a filthy pit of despair!

Beforehand, while trying to persuade Mumsie to let Reese and I cart away some of the 27 full garbage bags from our last efforts on cleaning, I let her know that a home study was coming that day. She laughed it off and said that she could “handle” them! Um… no… no she cant. My mother’s relentless brushing aside of serious concerns is all a part of her playbook. It’s old and stupid, but she won’t stop it. My point was that my intervention was doing Mumsie a HUGE fucking favor, but of course she would never admit to that.

Several people have offered to take trash to the dump for Mumsie, but the crazy woman won’t allow them to! Even though, at 92 years old, she can no longer stand up long enough to paw through trash bags to find potential treasures, she STILL won’t allow anyone to haul those trash bags away! I kept arguing with her, but she’d laugh at me and refuse to give her permission.

To further enrage me, when I tried to explain how Erica was feeling– overwhelmed caring for her mother’s injuries and ailments, Mumsie actually said, “I’ve taken care of her for over 50 years. She can take care of me now!” OMG.

Firstly, Mumsie has done a SHIT job of caring for her children. She quite clearly began neglecting us from about when we hit the 8 to 10 age range. Further, she simultaneously fomented dependency for her own selfish needs, no matter the cost to her progeny, but then takes credit for sticking around to enjoy that dependency! What a bitch!

Secondly, children do NOT owe their parents! They didn’t ask to be born! And they’re not obliged to care for aging parents! I mean, sure, it’s the kind thing to do, but if the parent failed to be kind towards, protective of, and caring for their kids, those kids can’t be forced to do better than their parents did!

Thirdly, and this one was brought home when I discussed it with Joan: Technically, forcing a mentally and physically disabled woman into elder care is– SLAVERY. Very illegal! Later, I discussed this with aunt Dora, who was quite put out about it because Joan told her the same thing, but it remains true. They can’t force my sister to care for Mumsie, and now that I’ve brought this fucked up expectation to the county–? It will be carefully watched. (Dora is now on a wait list to get elder care help for her sister/my mother, because she’s been told to make other plans besides my sister for Mumsie’s longer term care needs.)

SO–! My mother went to a doctor’s appointment right after Joan showed up and Joan and Erica and myself all went for a walk to the park across the street and we talked future plans again. Essentially, Erica can’t move in with me until the home she shares with my mother is sold. Erica can visit me a lot– and apparently the social workers think this is best, but my sister will lose her benefits if the home she lives in becomes a non-residence and therefore a “financial asset.”

Erica was disappointed, naturally. And I brought up the arguments I had with my mother as well, and maybe I didn’t have to– but I was SO frustrated! We walked back and Reese showed up and I introduced her to Joan, since Reese has been helping me at my mother’s all this time and is a huge part of our future plans.

Then, Mumsie came home from her appointment and I distracted her while instructing Reese to start loading as many of the trash bags onto the back of her pickup truck as possible. She was on it! Whenever my mother looked towards the back yard (she has partially see-thru drapes) I would distract her again. In this way, Reese got about 2/3rds of the trash in the bed of the truck, and tarped it. Then off we went!

The dump cost $98.00!! So I handed the $100 gift card my mother gave me to Reese to pay for it, and that was that.

So, yes– I technically “stole” my mother’s (and sister’s) trash in order to take it to the dump. My mother scares people away from taking such measures by making it seem like she’ll report missing items to police or something. But she NEVER has and she NEVER will! Most people duck the risk, but I don’t give a flying fuck anymore! I doubt she’ll even notice bags are missing. I fully intend to keep stealing trash and hauling it to the dump almost every time I return for a visit. I just have to find a cheaper place to dump it (Portland’s metro station is cheaper than the west-side local station) and make sure I can afford the cost. Dora said she’d pay me for this, so I have to make sure I plan ahead of time to cover it.

I realize that I’m going to need a couple of months break after this level of personal intervention! I don’t want to spend next month or December dealing with this on top of the rest I have on my plate! I was so angry this last week that I had to physically walk out of the house to just breathe and calm down. I kept hoping I could just be “whatever!” and laugh at her, the way she laughs at everything else, but I couldn’t manage it. Well, to be fair, I manage it about half the time– but after ignoring too many pushed buttons, my resolve dissolves and my ire grows.

The level of satisfaction for hauling off more than half the trash we pulled out of the house was immense, though! Besides Reese, I made sure Joan and Dora knew what I did as well. Oh yeah– ! And their next door neighbor of the duplex! She’s also the condo board leader and I gave her my emergency contact information and updated her quite a bit. I know she was happy that Reese and I were making it less likely her home would burn down.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I can hardly wait until my mother exits this mortal sphere. I would never hurt her, but silently I just want her to go away– forever.