Today mother has a procedure at her doc's office today.  It was a scope to see if she had any masses in her bladder.  The nurse was super weirded out that I didn't want to be in the room with my mother who didn't have any pants on.  Even my son said "Wow, that's rude.  She could see you were uncomfortable, she shouldn't have pushed it."  But I didn't care what she thought and I went to wait in the waiting room with my son while she had it done, which was pretty quick.  

But before we went today, all week she's been on my case about not having my husband take her.  You may think "Oh, it's because it was a private thing, she didn't want a man there."  And you'd be wrong.  She has issues with my husband taking off of work to take her to her appointments.  She doesn't understand why I don't go anymore.  I used to do everything for her myself.  Every single thing.  And she loved it.  Not because she loves me, but because she loves knowing that I am her object to be at her beck and call, and she thinks it's 100% my job to take care of everything she needs.  Even before she needed help.  She's treated me like that her entire life.  I am her object to own.  So when, after a really horrible panic attack that put me in a position to put all the attention on me during one of her doctor's appointments, I quit.  First of all, I do not like being vulnerable in front of her.  She uses those times to hurt me.  And second, I know she loves being the center of attention, and I knew I'd pay for my mistake.  So I quit.  And my husband, even though he hates as much as I do, very sweetly stepped up to the plate for me.  I still do everything else for her.  But this one thing, that gives me horrible anxiety, he was nice enough to do for me.  He takes her to every single one of her appointments.  And at first, the transition was horrible.  She'd whine and bitch and complain that I wasn't going.  Which also gave me horrible anxiety.  But eventually, she relented and stopped.  

But she never stops butting in about who's taking her to her appointments when it falls during my husband's working hours.  And my answer is always "It's not up to you who brings you.  So shush about it."  She's obsessed with my husband.  She's obsessed with telling me what to do with him.  "Don't let him do this!"  "Don't make him do that!"  Blah blah blah.  It makes us all sick.  My son said today "Well, she wouldn't give a rat's ass if it were me having to take off of work to take her."  And he's right.  She wouldn't care at all.  Or she'd say something about it one time and that would be that.  With my husband?  She goes on and on and on about it.  All because she sees Mr. Brooks as her prized possession that nobody can make do uncomfortable things or put him out in any way.  

Then her BFF Christmas stopped by today, unannounced.  Which is the only way she stops by anymore.  Which got her all riled up.  She was being so annoying I had to tell her twice to stop being so loud.  She hates when people are together and are talking and she's not involved, so she will make as much noise as she possibly can to get everyone's attention on her.  And today was worse than usual.  

Then in the car, she pulled up her old "backseat driver" bullshit today, screaming at my son that he turned the wrong way and then not stopping, even though he was turning around.  He finally yelled "I KNOW GRANDMA!! BE QUIET!!!"   And then he had to yell at her again when she wouldn't stop nagging at him over something else.  I was happy I wasn't the only person annoyed with her today.  

So, at the appointment, they told her (well, me, she wasn't listening, per usual) that her coffee and cigarette habit influencing her bladder issues.  So I brought it up when we got home and she ignored me.  So I said "I love how you change the subject when I am trying to talk to you."  She said "Oh, I am listening."  But she wasn't.  She's a problem child who act like a fucking asshole 99% of the day.  So, I am taking it upon my self to start buying decaf and filling up her coffee containers.  And I am going to see if she can cut her smoking in half.  I know she won't be receptive, but I am going to tell her, that the next stop with her urologist isn't going to work unless she stops inserting stimulants into her body.  So she needs to cut down her smoking.  

Because the next step will cause us to have to take her every single freaking week to go have a half an hour procedure done for twelve goddamned weeks.  Then possibly once a month or less forever.  Good fucking grief.  Why can't she just have surgery??  One and done!  Ugh.  It's giving me anxiety just thinking about it.  Because my husband starts a new job in August and instead of second shift, which makes it easy for doctor's appointments for her, he'll be working first again.  Which fucking sucks for this entire issue.  

AND to find out....the state-funded nursing home in our town is going out of business.  So, where is she going to fucking go now?  Well, she'll be in a facility before that, I hope.  We'll see.  I really cannot stand living with her anymore, but I've put up with worse.  So we'll just see what happens with that.  I cannot believe just as the time is coming for her to be put into a home soon, that they'll be folding up.  I have no idea what to do.  We can't afford ourselves to put her anywhere at all.  

It's just one of those things I just have no idea how any of this is going to work out.  I mean, it will, one way or another.  I am thinking for one, to ask her BFF Christmas to help take her to her appointments after my husband's new job starts.  And as for the home thing?  I just don't know yet.  But maybe we can get her into assisted living at some point?  I am not sure.  We'll see.  

But that was the fun for today.  

Oh, also, whenever I take her anywhere, she won't stop touching her fucking face and fiddling with her mask.  And refuses to wash her hands when she comes home.  So I am going to be setting down new rules for her.  And I will enforce them.  

Damn, taking her anywhere is fucking stressful.  I hope that's the last of it for a bit LOL