I’m going to stop writing in second-person, at least for this particular email.
I want to thank everyone who has sent nice notes and text messages for the newsletter I had published, then had to unpublish. A couple of people had pointed out, rightfully, that me going into vivid detail about my sister’s assault and arrest on my mother probably wasn’t the smartest move in an active court case.
That was all I was going to write. But I guess I can write some more.
To be honest, right now I’m in “can I make it to the next day” mode. I work. Kareem makes me do things, like eat. He tells me when to sleep and change out of my work clothes, and while it may sound really Sally Fields “Not Without My Daughter,” right now it all feels so incredibly necessary because I’ve been in this tunnel for a while and there doesn’t seem to be any light anywhere I can find.
Mom calls again. Up until now, it has been about conversations with a city mental health service, an Oakland-based Elder Legal Care organization and a social worker. The social worker asked me to translate their meeting. I can’t, I say to her. I explain to the social worker that while mom and I can have casual conversations there are things — terms — I don’t feel comforting translating. Terms like “district attorney,” “public defender,” or “subpoena.” Ever since Angela’s been in jail, Mom has gotten all the junk mail from lawyers. She calls every day: Is Angela getting a lawyer? Do I need a lawyer too? If I don’t get a lawyer, does that mean she’ll come back?
“The courtroom is in Dublin,” she says about her upcoming subpoena. “I need you to figure out how to get there by taking BART.” Dublin is a 30-minute drive from the house.
“Mom, stop that. I’ll call you an Uber.”
“What is BURR?”
I sigh. “A taxi, mom.”
“Ai-ya, don’t do that. Those are so expensive.”
Today, Dad is in the ER. He fell walking down the steps in front of my parent’s house, she reports from the hospital. “People tell him to use a cane. I tell him to use a cane. I had to take him to the ER. I had to carry him! He’s too heavy.”
You should find a home, I say to her. Plural you, I mean. An old folks home is what I also mean. My aunt has also been lobbying, unsuccessfully, to get the both of them moved into an apartment complex in Oakland, closer to where my aunt and uncle live. My mother hates them as much as my dad hated his in-laws.
God, they really are perfect for each other.
There’s a pause and she starts breathing heavily. “Your father doesn’t like it. He told me as much.”
“Him? Or you?”
“You weren’t there. You didn’t see them. Everyone there was old and disheveled and they had helpless looks in their eyes. Your father’s naval classmate went into a home and died a month later.”
“How do you know he wasn’t going to die already?”
In hindsight, maybe not the greatest choice of words.
“UNCLE WAN. YOU KNEW HIM.” She’s clearly at the hospital because the background noise blends in with the raised voices.
“Mom, I don’t know how to help you anymore,” I say in English.
“Then I’ll figure it out myself,” she says, and she hangs up.
At this point, I’ve pretty much accepted what will happen. My father will fall a couple more times. He will break his hip. That will be the beginning of his end. And everyone’s quality of life will take a harder tumble because we’re all too scared to find out the alternatives.
Hsiung family stubbornness will literally kill everyone in this family. Probably mine too. The difference is that I’m beginning to care less and less.
Hang in there, Ernie. We have been through some similar experiences and have gotten through it - you can too. Susan is an experienced Psych nurse and knows a lot about this subject including the legal end of things, plus has worked in nursing homes and has had to deal with aging parents too, so she may have good advice. If you ever want to talk, let me know.
I'm sure I'm like many of us who care about you, in that I'm at a loss for what to do. But one thing I will say is that it's vital you stop regularly and assess what _your_ needs are. You're the type of caring person who will worry about everyone else while running yourself into the ground. Please don't.
For one thing, you won't be any good to anyone else if you don't stay well. But more importantly, you shouldn't forget your duty to care for yourself. That needs to be your focus before you worry about others. I know the pain of seeing a loved one in distress all too well. I've dealt with loved ones with both physical and mental health challenges, and it can be crushing.
If it helps and there are things that you need to vent, please feel free. You know how to get me. Also, as someone who's dealt with family issues of all kinds, as well as being a lawyer for 28+ years, I might be a good sounding board. Happy to hop on Zoom with you, if that might help.
Please take care of Ernie! *hug*