The title of this blog post gives away what is eventually going to happen, but I need to write about the entire experience as some kind of catharsis.
For years, I pestered John to move back to Michigan. I love Ann Arbor, and I didn't want to never live here again. He repeatedly told me "no" because he didn't want to move back anywhere near our parents. I must admit--my mother has been a non-player in our lives here, and after six months of therapy to resolve the fact that she doesn't want to be part of my life even though I live so close, I'm good with it all. She's financially independent; in fact, I think she's still employed by U of M as a result of desperately-needed physicians during COVID. She has a cleaning lady. Occasionally, Ethan and Rebecca will stop in and see her, as will Johannah, and she's always very welcoming to them.
John's parents, on the other hand, have been a living nightmare. The abuse John endures from his father, screaming and swearing at John on the phone and then hanging up on him takes its toll on John. After the last event, I'm hoping John doesn't feel the "honor they father" guilt anymore and doesn't call him. John's mother and her problems, however, are constantly in our face. She is a gross, filthy, dirty person with an apartment filled with garbage and rotten food and bugs. And don't get me started on her bathroom. We have tried to give her some really beautiful moments here in Michigan, taking her places like Hamtramck for Polish food, but after a couple of hours, all she can think about is getting back to her apartment to smoke. She's crabby and unhappy and just miserable to be around. And she's an addict. She's also very demanding and manipulative, expecting things to be exactly how she wants them, and if they aren't, well, I just don't know.
Another player in all of this drama is Beth. I must admit that I was pretty excited to move back to be near Beth. Of all of John's siblings, she is the only one who has made a concerted effort to be my friend. I think, at times, that she sees me as a mother figure, and she seeks my approval, but other times, she has offended me terribly. When Mary came to baptize her daughter with Beth's son, Mary told Beth that she had to uninvite me from the baptism...and she did. But for some reason, every time, I forgive her, because I love her.
Kathy torments Beth. She has led to a very near downfall of Beth's marriage in demanding that she stay over at Beth's house multiple times. If her apartment is too hot, or too cold, or if she's sick, or if she babysits for Beth, she asks to stay. And when there, Kathy constantly nags Beth's kids and criticizes Beth. It's really horrible.
Over Christmas break, Beth and her family, and consequently Kathy, all contracted COVID. Beth and Chris got over it easily enough, but Kathy did not. And for the third time in a year, Beth's dog scratched Kathy's leg which turned into a horrible skin infection. So when Kathy went to the ER to get her leg looked at, the doctors told her she needed to stay in the hospital--the wound could turn septic at any moment, and her COVID wasn't well managed, having COPD and emphysema from smoking for 50 years. Kathy threw a fit in the ER, but the siblings told Beth that she had to keep her there and not take her home. So when Beth told Kathy she wouldn't drive her home, Kathy started calling other people while Beth simultaneously texted them and told the people to tell her "no". Kathy was swearing and yelling at Beth, but in the end, she was admitted. You know why she didn't want to stay? Because she can't smoke.
Kathy stayed for four days, and when she finally came "home" (back to Beth's), it became apparent that she wasn't ready to come home. She couldn't stand or walk unassisted, she couldn't toilet herself, she pooped her pants, and she fell over when she went outside to smoke. It was at this point that I stepped in.
For some reason, Kathy is on better behavior when I'm around. Perhaps it's because I cater to her wants and fears. I don't know. But I do know that what needed to happen was too much for Beth or John. There was a sibling call where everyone but Mary knew that Kathy needed to be admitted into the hospital again, and it was Mike's knowledge of how rehabilitation works that helped us realize we needed to move quickly.
Beth, Chris and Kathy had contracted COVID on Christmas Eve. Beth had invited me over for dinner on Sunday night when Kathy came home which was three weeks after the initial positive test, but I had told her that I'd rather wait a bit longer. My history with Beth and her family is that the lure of spending time with us overrides their caution in being sick around me. They just don't understand that I will catch anything and everything, and it will be ten times worse than their experience. However, by Monday, things needed to happen with Kathy, so I stepped in.
Chris, Beth and I met for lunch, and I felt nervous sitting at the same table as them, again hoping that they were no longer COVID positive. We developed a game plan of how we were going to tell Kathy that she needed to go back to the hospital in order to be admitted for rehab. We went over to their house.
I have been overly cautious throughout this entire pandemic. I take no risks when it comes to exposing myself. But for some reason, I threw caution to the wind and walked in that house, and when I spoke with Kathy (because she doesn't hear well), I took off my mask.
In the end, I convinced her that she needed a shower, and so Beth, bless her heart, gave her a shower, peeling chunks of poop off her butt. We got her bags packed, and we called the ambulance. By the next day, she was admitted into rehab which is where she currently resides, getting both physical and occupational therapy visits daily.
Beth and I then spent the next days visiting assisted care facilities as well as visiting Kathy. By the end, I just looked haggard. Kathy sucks the energy out of everyone.
When I went to an appointment with my allergist on Thursday (three days later), I noticed that my lungs hurt when I took my breathing test. Not something that usually happens.
Friday, I drove to Dayton and slept like the dead that night. Not something that usually happens.
I felt pretty good on Saturday, but Sunday morning I woke up and knew something was very wrong but it was ward conference. I got dressed for church, drove there, sat in a pew by myself (John was in PA), but by the time the first talk was over, I was slouched in my pew and breathing hard. I grabbed my coat and walked out.
I had COVID.
I can't even begin to describe the feelings of anger that seethed in my mind. As I said to Hannah, "No good deed goes unpunished." Somebody in that house must still have had COVID, probably one of Beth's kids. In fact, when I texted her, telling her I had COVID, she asked, "Did you get it from us?"
Yes, Beth. Yes, I did.
I'm just finishing up Day Three today, and it was been a living nightmare. The headaches, the body aches, the chills, the cough, the congestion, the difficulty breathing. I have lived in fear of contracting COVID for almost a solid two years now, and I have done everything in my power to keep myself safe, but here I am. I will admit--the three times I've had pneumonia in my life have actually been worse than this, but I think I'm only spared that misery because I have the vaccine. Of course, I've been telling Hannah that we need to go get our boosters for the past two months, but we never made time. Stupid me. I'm sure my symptoms would be much less if I had gotten my booster.
Today, I called my allergist, and if I haven't said it before, she is a god-send. She started me on antibiotics and steroids, and she's attempting to get me monoclonal antibody treatment to shorten the length of suffering. Hannah, who is off work because she's had such a close exposure now, went into action and picked up my prescriptions.
And wow, how have I not mentioned Hannah yet? The first night I was delirious--I was making death videos for people I loved while sitting in the bath tub. She sat with me the entire night, forcing fluids and Tylenol. She has fetched electrolyte water and orange juice, and she has made me chamomile tea with more honey than water ;-) When I thought my head was going to explode, she kept a bag full of ice balanced on it. She keeps a schedule of all the meds I'm supposed to take and when, because quite honestly, my mind isn't very clear. And she tucks me in at night and sits with me all day. I literally don't know what I would do if she wasn't here to take care of me, because I'm not physically or mentally strong enough to stay on top of it all.
John on the other hand isn't processing it all very well. He has so many worries with work that he doesn't have time to worry about me. He told me to take a Percocet for my headache. And he told the kids that it couldn't possibly be his family's fault that I have COVID. And he keeps making excuses for different things instead of just thinking about me. He also has told his family about me--not that they ever care about anything in my life, but he thinks telling them I have COVID is warranted. I'm sure he's telling them because he feels so much stress about it, and he processes stress by telling anyone and everyone whatever is stressing him out. It's been really hard to take.
Okay. I feel better. I just needed to get this all out. I'm sure I've negated all of the good, Christian things I did last week to help Kathy by having these feelings. God help me.
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