Family? I don’t know them.

It’s sad to me how much my mother believes in the fantasy of “family.” She is of the school that “blood is thicker than water.” And at one time in her life it was true, but it has since diluted. For me it never existed, because I saw through my families bullshit and lies.

Lies may be a harsh word. I should just say empty promises. The words these people speak mean nothing to them, but unfortunately so much to my mother. She believes them, because at her core she would never say something she didn’t mean.

One of my cousin’s (I forget whom) had a problem with my mother because if you invited her to any event she will attend. That thought angers me for two very specific reasons: 1) why wouldn’t you want her there? and 2) is it such a bad thing to be able to depend on someone, no matter what?

When she was firing on all cylinders, she was the most giving woman to ever have existed. (She still is, by the way, she just lacks the capacity to do as much as she wants.) She would go absolutely out of her way if you asked her to. The only problem is she (subconsciously) expects that in return, and it’s not going to happen.

This morning my mother ruminated on how she had taken care of both my aunts when they had cancer and my father through his many ailments. Both of my aunts would eventually succumb to their illnesses (and my father on an unrelated injury tied to one of his many issues.) Before they had passed, she was there every step of the way. She would make the 2 hr drive down to see my aunts as often as she could without complaint because it was just what family did for one another.

Rewind many years and my mother was there for my cousin’s as they were growing up. I am in a weird spot in my family line, because all of my first cousin’s were having children when I was born. So I grew up with my second cousins. During the years before she met my father, she was the bad ass aunt who took her nieces and nephews to every southern california theme park, took them shopping, did whatever she could to give them a good childhood. She was the one they ran to when they “ran away from home.”

Returning to reality… Here we are as her mind is disintegrating and where are they? Where is this family that is supposed to come and help? They don’t even have to do anything, just visit. Sit there and reminisce. Chat. But they are nowhere. And in the end, for me, that’s fine. It further cements the notion that blood means fuckall. Yeah, you share a genetic code, but that doesn’t mean they give a shit about you.

The thing that does upset me with their absence, is that these ungrateful pieces of shit are hurting her. She languishes in isolation and wonders why no one visits her. It’s heartbreaking to watch and one I can’t answer for her, without sounding angry or bitter.

My mother loves to wax poetic that “your family loves you.” (Speaking to me, about me.) No, they don’t. They really don’t. They tolerate me or “accept” my existence. But love is being there for someone, no matter the cost. Love is not empty words spoken to make you look good, but carry no weight behind them.

Turning Down a One-Way Road

So that’s that. My mother most likely has Alzheimer’s. Or so said the nurse practitioner at my mother’s follow-up MRI appointment. Quite the change of diagnosis from “it’s just stress” we had been told just a year prior. (Not even a full year.) The only good thing that came from the previous visit was a baseline to see her degression. And there is a lot.

The nurse practitioner showed me, and only me, the scale of it. I don’t know why she chose to reveal this information to just me, maybe she thought I wouldn’t have had an overreaction or that I would be able to comprehend what was happening. Whatever the reason, it is what it was.

The decline on her results was sharp. Almost entirely a straight line down from where she had been. I wish I had taken a photo or had them print it out to fully digest what I was seeing. I cannot stress this enough, it was severe.

I posted the results on twitter and the outpouring was so overwhelming. Those that had gone through something similar were the ones to offer their assistance or advice. Even some who haven’t, offered an ear to bend, fully providing (a stranger on the internet) their phone number. I am overwhelmed with love that I don’t even know how to process that. It showed me a world that seems almost counterculture to what twitter appears. It proved to me that at our core human beings are a community and will gather to care for each other.

I don’t think my mother has very long. I arrived at that conclusion by one, witnessing her descent over the past few months (which has been rapid to say the least) prior to concrete test results; and two, being haunted by those three graphs.

The part that frustrates me the most, above knowing I will lose my mother, is that there is NOTHING I can do to stop this. This is a one way road and it’s all downhill.