It’s Not The Cat’s Fault

“I’m getting out Wednesday,” was the last conversation. I waited all day, finally at 6 p.m. the sister-in-law called. I heard my phone mispronounce her name and had a moment of terror, “What now.” But I needed to know, so I picked up with my cheeriest voice.  “What’s up?”

Her matter-of-fact tone told me I was in for another stream of consciousness monologue, so I just sat silently.  “Well, they want me out tonight, but my walker has not arrived, and they can’t kick me out at this hour. My daughter and I decided that we will fight it if they try to charge me for tonight, but they were supposed to get the walker here, so it’s their fault, not mine.?”

“Do you know where you are going?” I worded it carefully so as not to ask if she had a place to go, I did not want to revisit that.

“Some Motel 6. I can afford that for about a week. I have doctor’s appointments this coming week. I finally have a family doctor and an orthopedic doctor”

As this litany progresses, without thinking I am instantly on my cell phone looking at Motel 6’s, seeing if she means the one down the street from me. It is pricey when compared to Tempe, about $10 more per day and I know her money is tight.  I interject, “There’s a Motel 6 in Tempe for $55.00.”

“I found one for $47 in Mesa,” she barked, and I go silent. Remembering that it is not mine to do or solve. I am only to get a destination for delivery. 

“I’ll bring your things down to you. Please text me what you need me to bring. I’d keep it to a minimum as you will be moving and that will be hard.”

“I’m coming up to get things.”

“No, I will drive down to you.”

“I need my car.”

“You will have your car. I am bringing it to you with your things.”

“How will you get back?”

I cut it off pointing out I have many friends and options, just need to know where and when. I end the conversation and arrange with my husband’s grandson to have him pick me up somewhere in Mesa the next day, probably around 3 p.m.

Thursday dawns and I still have no text from her as to what she wants.  At 1:30 the doorbell rings and there is a man with a walker.  “Are you…” Before he can finish, I say she is not here, and it needs to be delivered to the nursing home and that she has been waiting since yesterday afternoon.

“Well, this is her address, and I can leave it.”

“No, she no longer lives here and won’t be coming back. She is waiting at the nursing home for this.” I give him the name. He knows it and off he goes. I text her to say that it is on its way and will be there in about an hour.  I ask again what the plan might be. She says she will be staying at a Motel 8 on Black Canyon Highway and Northern or about 40 miles from where she is in Mesa.

“Couldn’t find anything in Mesa? I know there’s an available room in Tempe.”  No response.

I point out that I had arranged to be picked up in Mesa and would now have to rethink how I would get home. Again, I asked what she needed and what time she thought she might get there.

“I am leaving here between 4 and 5.”  I let her know it will take an hour from her location to the Motel 8. Still no list.

At 3 p.m. I go out and begin to load her car. Clothes, computer, desk I know from her long email of Monday when she was packing everything up in her mind.  There is more rearranging as her car was already half full of things she had never unloaded, so space was at a premium.  I had to get the cat in and its paraphernalia and my husband as I could not leave him home alone for that length of time.

I felt like a hero when I came in and took a few moments to sit and rest.  I opened my iPad to check my email for the first time that day only to find that she had sent an email at 11:52 a.m. with her requested items.  They did not match what I had just packed. So back up and out to the garage.  Unload the car, dig through the stacked boxes, reconfigure, and do the best I could to comply.  I get my nephew to agree to meet me at the Motel 8 at 6:30 and I capture the cat at 5:30 for a 6 p.m. departure.  The cat makes me sad. She is sweet and has done nothing wrong and I do not like to think of her as distressed or upset.

Just before loading her and my husband in the car, I have a thought and try to call the easier twin who has been handling the housing situation.  She texts back she cannot talk right now and I text, “did you book a handicapped room? I hope.”  As we are pulling away from the house she calls.  I ask about the handicapped room, there is silence and then, “Huh, I never thought about that.  No.”

You NEVER thought about it!! Your mother just had hip surgery. She’s leaving a rehab facility before any of us think she should, and you NEVER thought about it!! You were married to a doctor and your sister wants to return to school to be a nurse practitioner. REALLY!!

“Well, I am just letting you know that if I get there and she cannot get to the room they have, I am handing her the keys to her car and you will be solving this from the parking lot.  Why is she over on the west side of town?”

 “Okay. It was the best price.”

I fume my way across the Valley to the hotel.  I have been telling myself that it will all be okay, maybe this is a nicer Motel 8 than I am anticipating, but as I drive through the vacant parking lot of what used to be a Kmart toward the dim sign that says Motel 8, I know I am wrong.  A text said she is in Room 117 and I drive by the emaciated men with few teeth and lost eyes to her door.  I am too afraid to get out of the car and I wait for my nephew’s arrival. I text her that I will be there in about 8 minutes and I see her open the door a bit to look out and am glad I did not choose the space right in front. 

My nephew takes a box and knocks on her door.  I get out and grab the cat and walk in with a smile and a hello. She stands there with her walker and tries to orchestrate.  I say, we will happily bring everything in, just let us know what she wants where.  I set up the cat box and put the food in her unusable tub (or at least I hope she won’t try to get herself into it). I quickly glance around the room and am glad to see that it appears recently redone and is clean. It takes us no more than 10 minutes, a quick hug and we are taking my husband out and putting him in the nephew’s car and pulling away.  There are four cop cars handling two different incidents in the parking lot as we drive out.

I say to my nephew that it took everything I had to leave her there and I felt sorry for the cat.  My nephew replies that he has only interacted with her for maybe 15 minutes in his life and he is having a tough time driving away.  He has learned our co-dependent ways well. I make a note to help him get over it and then remember that I can’t because that would be co-dependent.  So confusing.

A half and hour later I am home and still distressed. I chat with my best friend and she says that she thinks I should call the daughter and let her know. It would be informative not rescuing.  I call and recount that she is in a drug motel and the area is not safe. How had they chosen this?

“Oh, I didn’t know there were bad areas. I guess I could have called but I thought you didn’t want to help with housing.  We’ll tell her to get Grubhub to deliver her food or she can Uber.”

Grubhub? Uber?  I say she has her car and I become a bit weepy as I talk about my concerns. Damn my Irish sentimentality.

“Oh, you sound upset.  I am sure it must be upsetting to see someone you care about in a place like that.” is her response.

I do not think she has an idea what she has said, but her response is telling.  I then hear that the sister-in-law will have to move in five days and will be going in and out of motels until they can find a more permanent solution and the cat may have to go to foster home and it all sounds overly complicated and exhausting. I feel the sparking of my co-dependent ignition and I shut it down. I agree to look at a list of possible locations for future housing to let them know of dicey areas.  It is simply a list of cities in Metropolitan Phoenix. I send an informative but short response.  Everything from her camp goes silent.

As I have discussed and retold this saga, it has allowed me to unpack aspects of myself and my reactions. I am still surprised that I am holding the line. This new me is an interesting person to know.  The sister-in-law was coming here to help me and she has helped me more than any of the users and bullies before. Her behavior, approach, and utter lack of awareness about her demeanor have allowed me to grow a backbone I did not know I had and to feel what it is like to have boundaries. They do not feel so mean or uncaring. They do not cause me to lose sleep and the second guessing is diminishing with each passing day.  Maybe her guides knew more than either of us. Maybe she was right when she pointed out that while she had done none of the things I thought would be helpful she still saw herself as helpful. I had been focused on my immediate needs, but what I got was the help I needed for the long game and for that I am truly grateful.