At best the following statement sounds insensitive.
I know that.
I accept that.
But, that fact does not stop it from being the truth.
So, here goes…
My mom’s stroke is stressing me out.
I said it.
It doesn’t make me feel any better.
And, conversely, it doesn’t make me feel any worse.
For those of you that aren’t in the know, my mom had a stroke last month.
She called me when it happened.
But being the busy daughter that I am, I put calling her back on the bottom of my list.
Yep, the guilt…it is real…
So, she called my friend, who bundled up the baby in the stroller (it was still relatively cold in March of this year), and strolled over to tell me to call my mom.
“Trina, I can’t feel my legs”.
Call an ambulance, Mom.
“But I am afraid of ambulances.”
So, my friend, the baby, and I hop in the trusty Volvo and head on over to her house.
Twelve hours of sitting in the Sentara Norfolk General emergency room (yes, 12 hours!!!) before she even sees a doctor, we find out that she has had a stroke and she is admitted.
Now, I will admit, once she was taken upstairs, the service was impeccable.
As is her service (as of today, she is still there but she is suppose to be released tomorrow) at the Sentara Therapy Center in Portsmouth.
But the stress, it is coming from my Mom’s living situation.
In a she said/she said battle, the Landlady is saying that my Mom owes her rent from December til date.
My Mom says that she only owed her $20 for her March rent which means that she is only behind April and now May plus that $20.
And can you guess who is caught in the middle of this grown folk’s business.
Yep, lil’ ol’ me.
Because every time landlady calls or texts, my mother’s pressure goes back up.
And the landlady actually tracked my mom down to the therapy center and “visited” her there with, apparently, a basket of fruit.
This was a day or two before my mom was supposed to be released.
And guess what, her pressure went up and her legs went numb again and they ended up sending her back to Norfolk General for xrays.
Yesterday, I get a panicked call from my mom that she received a message that her stuff is out on the curve or will be out on the curve, she wasn’t real clear.
But, being that the trusty Volvo is down for repairs, I called said friend who, once again, bundled up the baby, and we headed off to my Mom’s apartment to make sure that her possessions were not out waiting for the trash pickup.
When I get to her apartment, the door is unlocked and slightly opened but to my eyes, none of her possessions are gone.
Oh, I had forgot to mention the mold, did I?
Well, I told you that this is a stressful situation.
This mold problem has been ongoing since the first rain in the Fall of last year.
Because, despite my nagging, my mom refused to call the Norfolk Code Enforcement.
Anywho, I took pictures but these are effectively the After.
With the sheetrock down, you can really see the mold infestation.
And my mom has been sleeping with this behind her head for months!
And I don’t think she ever got permits to rent out her garage or any of her bedrooms.
I’m pretty sure the law says that she needs permits??
Not something that I can prove unless my mom actually calls code enforcement.
As you can imagine, my mom’s pressure went back up and the put her back on bedrest.
But the Landlady was calling and then texting when my mom did not respond.
She went so far as to have a mutual acquaintance call on her behalf.
Yes, she is, for intents and purposes, stalking someone in the hospital.
Who she visited in the hospital.
So, mom calls me again and gives me the landlady’s phone number.
Now, let me preface this by saying, that my philosophy on confrontations is that if you get loud…if you curse….if you call them anything other than their name…
You are dismissed as “those peoples”.
You are seen as the irrational one.
The one with the temper.
The one who “took it there”.
My friends and other family members, who shall remain nameless, don’t necessarily believe the same, but this is me.
So, I called the Landlady (this is a paraphrase. I wish I had recorded it.)
Ms. Gladys, this is Katrina, Mary’s daughter. Your tenant in the garage.
“Oh. Yes. Ok.”
Well, I am just calling to tell you that from now on, please call this number if you need to contact my mother. You see, she was suppose to be out last week, but after your visit, her pressure went back up. And she was suppose to be out this Wednesday but someone left her a message that her stuff was out on the curb and her pressure, as you can imagine, went back up again.
“I didn’t call her and tell her that. I would never do that. I am trying to work with your mother.”
Well, ok, good. I just went over there this morning to confirm that her stuff was not out on the curb so that she wouldn’t be stressing out about it anymore.
“I’m a social worker. I would never do that.”
“Listen. Just listen. You don’t even come over and see about your mom’s stuff.”
My car is down. I believe that she told you that–
Listen. Just listen. I want you to come over and get your mother’s stuff right now. Just go get some boxes and come get her stuff.
Well, I will call my mother and if that is what she wants me to do, then I will do that.
“No, you come and get your mother’s stuff now. If you need a ride, I will come get you…”
At which point, she just went on a rant and hung up on me.
Now, having been evicted from my fair share of apartments, I know that she can not just put my mother, or her stuff, out of the curve without getting a court order to take possession of the property.
And, personally, I don’t think that my request for me to talk to my mother about her apartment and her property was unreasonable.
After all, my mom is grown and having physical problems not mental faculty ones.
Next thing I know, she is continuing her rant in my text inbox.
(You can click on all of the images if you need to make them bigger.)
The housing worker she is referring to is my mom’s housing authority worker.
She is pretty close to getting subsidized housing and she needs to be in good standing with her landlord.
Ie, not owe any money.
Plus, because of her stroke, unless a doctor states otherwise, she will need a disabled unit and those are even harder to come by than the regular housing units.
The part that gets my goat was that she said that I called with an attitude.
Yeah, my friends constantly say that they have hardly ever seen me mad and if they ever do, they darn sure not the situation is Code RED: Get the bail money ready!!!
This is my response to her.
Did I keep it classy?
Did I cross a line?
Feel free to tell me if I came across as having an “attitude”.
Do you like how I used the phrase “writ of possession”?
Yeah, me too.
Despite my lack of formal education, I can pull a few things out of my butt if I need too.
Again, feel free to tell me if you saw anywhere in my previous text where I had an attitude?
Please point out where I was trying to piss her off.
Didn’t that last line come across as vaguely threatening?
This would have been my response to her message but I think that it was too long because it would not go through.
My S3 use to automatically break the messages up if they were too long but I guess they took that feature out with the latest upgrade.
Meanwhile, my mom is still scheduled to be released tomorrow.
Which is another source of stress because she is coming here and this is the wrong time.
If she could have come earlier, there would be an empty bed but my boys are coming home from college next week and we were already a bed short being that I trashed their old mattresses as soon as their butts hit the campuses in August.
It will all work out.
Pray for me, y’all.
Or better yet, send positive vibes that her housing comes through on we can put this whole mess behind us.
Or, behind me at least.
Those two may still up in court yet….