About the Blues / Julie London
Like everyone growing up there were people who came and went in our lives. By the time I was in high school, some of those people started to become more constant. One of those constants was JP. It had never been clear to me if she started off as one of Mother’s patients or not, as every one who ever shared our life always had “issues” that they discussed with Mother at one point or another. Family, friends, neighbors, my classmates, my teachers, her coworkers, the waitress at the diner, it didn’t matter what label defined the relationship, at some point they had talked to my Mother in a “professional capacity.” She never seemed to have a problem with these mini conflicts of interest, and while sometimes it bothered me and other times I wondered, it just didn’t matter.
JP had always struck me as a nice lady. Neither she nor her husband seemed to know the meaning of no, and as a result she was roped into everything. At the same time, they were one of those families that every small town had who are marginalized. They were often treated as if they came from the wrong side of the tracks, until some one wanted something. I never did fully understand the dynamics. They had an air of the economically challenged, yet both adults in the household worked. Their children were never part of the ‘in crowd,’ and yet knew everyone and were involved in everything.
JP often seemed to look out for Mother and it was always my opinion that Mother took advantage of this ruthlessly. Mother would call whenever she needed something moved or fixed, call when she wanted company for a drive or coffee, but for years I never saw Mother do anything in return. On a few occasions I questioned this. When the conversation was civil, Mother would tell me what she supplied to the relationship was her expert opinion on various matters.
By the time I left home, I was grateful that JP existed to cater to the daily whims, but I felt sorry for her. I believed that JP was just too nice to disengage.
It was about a month after the ‘come clean my house call’ that the next call came. But it wasn’t from Mother, but JP. My mother was in the hospital.
According to that call, Mother had been having problems for a while, but no one knew the extent of it. Mother had complained to JP about hip pain for a while, but JP didn’t realize it was ‘that bad.’ We both thought she was still going to the physical therapist weekly.
JP said hadn’t heard from Mother for a few weeks, but that was not unusually. When unneeded, she and Mother would go for a month or more without contact. But a few days before our conversation, Mother had called JP, telling her she had a problem, a serious problem.
Mother was stuck in her bed, JP reported, unable to move due to pain. She hadn’t rose to eat or use the bathroom for days. Finally in a state of desperation, hungry and laying in a wet bed, Mother had called JP as one of the people who had a key and could let herself in. JP was clearly upset. The state of Mother and the house when she arrived was disturbing to both of us.
JP had insisted that Mother go to the emergency room. JP described in agonizing detail how Mother was not able to use her legs without great pain. She needed help dressing and it was quiet a project to get her downstairs and into the car. JP drove her across town to the local hospital, with mother wincing in pain at every bump in the road. She had then been admitted, but JP didn’t know the diagnosis.
Why had you not called an ambulance? I questioned.
She didn’t want to travel in one.” JP had answered as if that was all it took.
While I know this sounds heartless, my concerns were tempered by skepticism. My experience with Mother was when she wanted attention, a sneeze became bronchial pneumonia. She had lied to me more than once and she had cried wolf multiple times. That she was admitted held some questions, but she had privileges at that hospital, connections and if she were complaining about something for which there was no physical reason, hospital admittance was not out of the question for the small town. I had no doubt JP was sincere and her concerns real, but I was not convinced she could not be conned. At that point, anything was possible.
There were just too many things that did not make sense to me. If she couldn’t walk and had been stuck in bed for days, why didn’t JP insist on calling an ambulance? Why had Mother allowed herself to be stuck in bed for so long? My mother allegedly went to doctors constantly. She reported that she was in good health. Had she lied about these doctor visits or to the doctor about her symptoms or to me about her health? She had been going to a physical therapist, but now couldn’t walk? This didn’t happen over night, could it? And why had she not mentioned health issues in the few weeks ago? It would have made a difference. She played that card when it wasn’t true, why would she not play it when it was legitimate?
JP concluded her telephone call telling me that Mother didn’t know she was calling. She had specifically told her not to call, but she was calling anyway. This too made me wonder. But I thanked JP, explained that some times Mother didn’t tell me things, like the conversation a few weeks ago had held no mention of her not being physically well. I asked JP to keep me posted, because I couldn’t depend on Mother or any one else to do it.
She promised she would.
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