 | |
| The lizard recovered! |
Things I stole in March:
4 shirts
19 books
4 DVDs, two never before opened
A teacup with a rose hip design, but no saucer
A brightly-colored ceramic lizard that broke in transit, but can probably be repaired
A bottle of “Angel Bake,” whatever that is: it appears to be rose extract
A book bag, to carry some of the books in
2 boxes of note cards and 4 packages of cute little stiff writing paper with envelopes, too small to be very useful, and all so old the envelope glue no longer works
4 French linen kitchen towels
Things I didn’t steal, but removed to inaccessible places:
A dozen books or so, to the library at the condo where I was staying
Four boxes of books to the library at the assisted living place my friend moved to
A box of DVDs that are hidden out of sight somewhere at assisted living where my friend can’t find them, but other people can locate and use
My sanity and compassion
Things I gave away, sold, or tossed in a dumpster:
300 towels
6 bed pillows
3 or 4 dozen toss pillows
A lot of framed artwork
8 handbags and totes
Enough lady’s undies – apparently unused – to deck out 10 women for 2 weeks each
2 dozen bras
Untold quantities of nearly-empty bottles of god-only-knows-what
18 boxes of DVDs and CDs
10 boxes of cookbooks
8 boxes of religious books, including 7 King James bibles, especially notable because my hoarder friend is Catholic, not Protestant
4 large garbage bags of shoes, boots and sandals, barely worn or never worn
A linen closet full of bed linens
Many, many, many, many boxes of clothes, many of the clothes still bearing price tags
3 boxes of sweaters
5 fake fur throws
7 sets of silverware
4 sets of kitchen knives
At least 5 teapots
Too many glasses, mugs, cups, saucers, dishes – sets and individual pieces – and bric-a- brac - too numerous to count, but the mass filled 4 giant cupboards that were each 8 feet tall by 5 feet wide
8 bookcases full of books, plus several boxes of children’s books, books on wildlife, science, languages, and tea. Yes, two boxes full of books about tea, mostly about drinking tea.
2 boxes of books about Japan
All the stuff that usually gets sold when you’re emptying a house that’s for sale: a generator, microwave, toaster, pots and pans, bake ware, hampers, tools, and so on.
A lot more. A whole lot more. Before we sold/donated/stole what we could, we filled a large dumpster to overflowing with trash. After we sold/donated/stole/gave away what we could, we filled another dumpster half-full of rejects, including dozens and dozens – ok, hundreds - of hardcover books. The new house owner was left with a sofa and recliner, both in really good condition; a bunch of artwork; a lot of glassware and dishes and mugs; 3 tall bookcases that weren’t compromised by black mold – yes, we found black mold, which destroyed 2 bookcases and a number of packed boxes and books – a china cabinet; a giant glass-topped coffee table; several lamps; screen room (like a porch only different) table and chairs and lounge chair; and a bunch of framed artwork, as well as an Oxford English Dictionary (small version), atlas, thesaurus, and some other reference books. And some wicked-interesting roof vent thingies that would have made a very interesting garden tchotchke if I could have figured out how to get them home. I would have happily stole them.
The Florida room, where we found black mold under (and in) some of the boxes and bookcases
Things we moved to a smallish assisted living
room:
7 bookcases full to overflowing; a giant 13-foot china closet, also full to overflowing. At least a dozen large pieces of artwork and a bunch of smaller ones; a small freezer; enough clothes, 15 or more boxes of shoes, and enough other stuff to fill a double closet to over-flowing; 20 toss pillows, 8 bed pillows, 5 loaves of bread and 2 cakes, 16 packages of mochi, and boxes and boxes and cloth bags and duffels of god-only-knows- what, two or three jewelry cases; and a 3+-foot-high stack of old magazines and catalogs; an ironing board and iron. A shower chair, which doesn’t fit in the shower because of the other stuff piled in the shower. A box of family mementos. A box or two of DVDs and CDs.
Along with that stuff, a full-size bed with headboard and 6 drawers below, 5 lamps, a tv, a cd/dvd player, a stand for same, and enough more books to cover the tops of the 4 shorter bookcases 3 feet high, and more stuff atop the three 7-foot-high bookcases, plus a recliner chair and a peacock chair, a set of 3 stacking side tables, a fake fur throw, a fake-leopard-skin rug, dishes, glasses, mugs, teacups, knives, silverware, microwave, water filter pitcher, toaster oven, Corelleware that fits into micro and toaster oven, some kitchen utensils, like big spoon and spatula and can opener and so on, at least 6 kitchen towels, pot holders, toilet paper and paper towels and tissues and garbage bags, a couple of trash cans, towels and bed linens, a clothes hamper, laundry detergent, dish detergent, a bathroom shelf-thing that fits over the hamper, at least 2 teapots, and I’m not even sure what all else that we moved to a fairly small room at assisted living.
To all this my friend quickly added new linens, has made several on-line purchases and one in-person trip to the grocery store and filled her dorm-size frig with fresh foods and her freezer with frozen tv dinners and half-gallons (yes, plural) of ice cream, and canned food, and lots and lots of treats, because she doesn’t want to go to the assisted living dining room to eat (because she’d have to meet new people and have a conversation. God forbid.) Plus more little bowls and some trinkets she liked the looks of, and more stuff – books and we don’t know what else – from Amazon.
And, according to my FFF, what we moved wasn’t enough.
The black horror in moving mode: this went to her AL room
When we left, most of this stuff was still in boxes and
piles and tumbling out of cupboards and filling the shower and hall and causing
tripping and making it impossible for the closet doors to open, or to gain free
access to the toilet boxes were piled high between bed and wall, clothes and
stuff was piled on top of both chairs, and all the stuff prevented the housekeeping staff from doing anything in the room.
Because, as happens with hoarders, the hoarder didn’t want us “touching any of my stuff!” So, in the end, she wouldn’t let us find places in her room for what would fit and get rid of what would not. And, by the way, what in hell did we do with her (fill in something inappropriate here - she had lists pages long) – “I wanted that! You didn’t get rid of it, did you?!!”
Yes – the answer is, Yes! We did get rid of all that stuff. Because your room is already a health and fire hazard, and you don’t have room for, or any need for, any of the stuff on your list. So we got rid of it. You needed the money we could get for selling it more than you needed another pile of stuff that the assisted living place will eventually come in and clear out of your fire-trap of a room.
The description and lists above don’t even begin to describe what really went on down there. The entire first two weeks, I rarely said anything to my hoarder friend that wasn’t either shouting, threatening to leave while shouting, or talking loudly and vigorously in my “you aren’t listening” voice, which some of my patients and students are all too familiar with: loud, carefully enunciated, slow, and accompanied by a glare. At one point I remember at one point saying, “I expect you to put as much effort into your move as we are; if that means that you’ll get sick and end up in the hospital, as you claim, then good, it’ll get you out of the way so we can do what needs to be done!”
No hospital stays were involved, by the way; it’s a frequent threat that worked on her father but not on us (“us” being me, cousin Paula, and care-giver Deb). But it would have made life easier. Last time we had to move her, we were lucky in that she a root canal the first of the days we were doing it, so afterwards we plopped her in a motel room with no way to leave, and turned off our cell phones. Which we needed to do often once we’d moved her to assisted living this time, also!
The last week, and a few days in-between when we took a break from the house clearing and went to attempt to help her get her room in order, were more of the same. Except I was exhausted mentally and physically by week 5, and when she replied, “Good, go!” to my threat to leave if she wasn’t going to cooperate and let us fix the health and safety hazard that her room had been since we moved her, I did. Go, that is. And didn’t look back.
But I did give the Director of the place a head’s up. And now it’s their problem, which I’m sure they’ve dealt with before and will deal with again, in a way my FFF won’t be happy about, in her room.
Part of her room at assisted living
Right now she’s not talking to me. Not only did I write her a long letter about hoarding and that she can’t continue that way now she’s at assisted living, and suggested that she show my letter to her psychiatrist to see where that took her; but she’s told her care-giver, who’s still going to help her once a week (not with clearing up the room! No, no, no!) to help her settle and get a new ID so she can vote, and other things, that we “maliciously and purposefully got rid of stuff she wanted.” Sigh.
The assisted living place my F-FL friend moved into, by the way, seems like a gem. It’s not a large place, but it’s not a small place, either; but it feels like a small place. There’s an exercise room, the residents can use the laundry room if they want to do their own laundry, there’s a computer room, and a lovely little garden on the back side that my friend’s room looks out on. The residents have been working on it, and on the far side, there’s barbecue gear that I’ve been told by the resident “ambassadors” that help newbies meet people and learn about the place, is the site of evening barbecues and music and fun during the summer. There are a couple of park benches out there, and picnic tables and lawn chairs. The place has a library – we bought two more bookcases for it so some of my friend’s books that won’t fit can fill. She’s already started organizing all the bookcases. The library has two comfy chairs, and we brought one of her large lamps that wouldn’t fit to the library so one could comfortably sit and read. There’s a table and chairs, and a book club.
The place also has a salon, and small bank accounts that let residents get $40/day out of, to use to go to lunch or a museum or some other thing the place sponsors trips to. They have a van; it takes residents to MD appointments twice a week, but there’s a PCP who comes to the residence and sees patients in their rooms; a mobile lab also makes the rounds to collect lab samples when needed. A games room has been mostly taken over by a group of women who are fanatical about jigsaw puzzles – once they’re put together, they somehow glue them and hang them on the walls, and some are really lovely. There’s a porch with chairs, and a sun room with chairs and couches. An activities room just steps from my friend’s room has an ice cream bar where they have socials in the summer, and weekly movies with popcorn. On Monday mornings a priest comes to say Mass there; on Sundays a protestant minister presides. The ambassador told me they sometimes have music groups, and other times bingo, cards, and even plays are presented there.
All the staff members can call all the residents by name. The place is pet-friendly; many residents have pet cats, which you don’t see unless you visit their rooms, but there are also two dogs that belong to the Director and the Director of Nursing – Sunshine and Bella, who has the run of the place. And I met many little dogs belonging to residents, sometimes trotting along next to their person, other times riding in their person’s walker basket. Absolutely adorable!
I met many of the residents while I was there, and several were eager to show me their rooms – neat as pins, comfortable, attractive. Many, like my friend, are Army brats, or Navy or Air Force brats, and all eager to meet another Brat and talk about the same places they lived and the same experiences they share. There are scheduled trips to different stores in the area. And everyone I met was friendly and pleasant, most of the folks were pretty active, going out for walks around the grounds regularly, and a few still drive. Even those using wheelchairs or walkers were up and about. The dining room is small, with 4-person tables and several seatings. Many options are available at each meal, and they change daily.
It seems like a great little place, where, if she made even a small effort, my friend could possibly make several friends. I’m thinking that’s not very likely. So far she’s refused to eat in the dining room, taking her food back to her room to eat alone; instead of hanging a wreath or other welcoming thing on the hook that hangs outside all the resident’s room doors, she’s hung a giant wooden rosary (I asked her if it was to repel vampires, and she didn’t answer). She doesn’t like the dogs. She doesn’t want to go in the van with anyone. She doesn’t want to do laundry during the day when the laundry room’s open – she wants to go in the middle of the night and needs special permission to do so, which she is unlikely to get. She doesn’t want to talk to the ambassadors, and she doesn’t have any interest in the book club, because she’s a snob and assumes they won’t read anything she’s interested in. She doesn’t’ want to meet the other Brats.
She has gone to watch a couple of movies – they serve popcorn, and, she told me, she doesn’t have to talk to anyone.
And in the meantime, you have to shuffle sideways through her room to reach toilet, or bed, or chair and bookcases. And she keeps tripping over the stuff on the floor. And she can’t take a shower, and she hasn’t washed her hair in more than 2 months, even though we agreed she should go to the salon once every week or two to get it washed.
Sigh. Back home, I have fourteen 3-ring binders of stuff concerning her, and that I did for her. Only 4 are currently in play, and only 3 often. Cousin Paula has retired and has taken over the finances part of the job, and I’m dealing with medical and, to some extent, social-related, but it’s hard when your friend doesn’t answer letters or emails. I’m wondering if our friendship can recover and go on.
But that’s another story. Yup, there will be a Part 3.
For the blog: herondragonwrites.blogspot.com 2 May 2023
All photos from F-FL by cousin Paula; any others by Deb Marshall
What it looked like before I left NH on March 1; how my heart feels still.
No comments:
Post a Comment