Betty and Mom
Southern California ~ Mother attempted suicide like clockwork, usually with pills and alcohol and always next to a hospital or police station so someone could rescue her in time. My mother wanted to kill herself, but she didn’t want to die; there’s a difference. Carleen no longer took the calls to come get her, so Larry, now living in Carmel, got the call from Loma Linda, a teaching hospital 400 miles away in Riverside. Trying to end her life just outside their doors, they found a final letter on Mom, donating her body to Loma Linda for medical purposes. Larry called Betty because she lived closer and told her to call and find out what was going on.
After identifying herself as a next of kin, Betty queried the head nurse, “Is my mother dead yet?”
“No, but she doesn’t have long. She’s not going to make it.”
My sister called Larry back with the good news. He immediately drove down, picked up Betty, and insisted she come with him to say goodbye to Mother.
“I’m not going,” she snipped. “Cole of California is having their yearly 50% off warehouse sale and I’m not about to miss it.”
They had a terrible row and he finally browbeat her into seeing Mother. The hospital had sent him the letter they found on Mom and on the drive over he demanded Betty read it. She refused.
“I’m not reading this junk. It’s the same old crap, Mother whining and wallowing. I’m not interested …grumble, grumble, grumble.”
“Read it,” he ordered.
“No!”
“READ IT!”
She finally gave it a cursory once-over, just to get Larry off her back. Then she wadded it up and threw it on the floor.
Mom, unconscious when they got to her room, was on oxygen, tubes up her nose, needles in her arms and ankles, the needle holes ulcerating. Arms crossed, Betty leaned against the wall in the hall outside.
Larry
“This is the last time you are ever going to see your mother,” Larry snapped, “Get over here and say goodbye to her!”
Betty refused. “Thank God. It’s about time. I’ve seen this once too often …grumble, grumble, grumble, and I’m not interested in seeing it anymore.”
She didn’t go in.
After saying final his goodbye to Mom, Larry made Betty take Mom’s 1959 Hillman Minx packed with all of her belongings back to Huntington Beach. The mailman, who at Christmas delivered twice a day during the week and once on Saturdays, knew Mother from her occasional stays with Betty and recognized the car in my sister’s open garage.
“Your mother’s car has been here for a few days but I haven’t seen her around. Is she visiting you?”
Betty thinks, What am I going to tell him—my mother’s in the hospital from her umpteenth attempted suicide? so said, “No, she died.”
to be continued…
© 2018. Catherine Sevenau.
All rights reserved.
Jean McQuady says
Mental illness is so difficult to deal with for the person and family. Praise to those who come out the other side much stronger.
Judy Altura says
Sadly, so damn funny.
Catherine Sevenau says
My sister was so damn funny. She was so mad when she told me the story, ranting and raving and chewing on the inside of her cheek, that I was cracking up. She failed to see the humor in it.
Barbara Jacobsen says
Such suspense! Did she or didn’t she? (I know, “wait and see”!)
Catherine Sevenau says
no spoler alerts