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Jul. 29th, 2009 10:10 pmWhy is Yahoo Mail turning into Facebook? I do not want my contacts' Yahoo statuses showing up above my emails. Do not care. Have Facebook actual if I want to see that.
And because other entry got eaten somehow, shall copy and paste (and elaborate) from bit sent to me with a comment email.
So, it was a Twitter thing and I said this (Monday):
Fail!aunt again. The one I bitch about every time something happens with Grandma, she's causing fuckloads of drama as per usual. The last thing my grandfather said to my grandma when he was dying was not to let fail!aunt move into the house. Yeah, that lasted all of a month. Living off of Grandma's Social Security, not helping her out, you know, at all. Especially health-wise--Grandma was in congestive heart failure, which means no salt, right? Instead of the special low-sodium Meals on Wheels we hooked her up with, Kris decides that she wouldn't like that (read: Kris wouldn't like them) and buys them takeout every night because fuck if she cares.
Latest drama. She hid the will. No kidding. Because she's not the executor, one of the brothers is, but she's claiming the will says she is and figures she can execute everything as cheap as possible (hence why another brother is doing the funeral even though he's a Lutheran pastor and Grandma was Catholic) and then pocket all the life insurance. Both my dad and the brother that's supposed to be the executor know where she's showed them it used to be, but Kris is all "Oh, huh," and sits there with this smirk on her face (Dad's words, not mine, obv., as I'm not down there yet). Kris is evidently too much of an idiot to understand that THE MONEY DOESN'T JUST GO TO HER IF THERE'S NO WILL. God. It's called Probate. Read a fucking book.
Speaking of idiot. Mom told me at one point (funneling info from Dad, who got it from Kris), that Sunday night Grandma'd had a big stroke and wasn't breathing for a really long time, but the paramedics brought her back even though she was DNR, like I said. She was comafied and had little brain activity and "blind" (though that made no sense, as how could they know if she was in a coma whether she could see or not? Then I figured out later Monday that that was just Kris being an idiot and that the doctors had probably told her that her pupils weren't reactive to light) and tubed up, which sucks royally because I'd so much rather just die in my sleep, right? Stupid, but untll they've got proof that that is the case, they can't exactly just not resuscitate somebody, so I get that. Kris calls everybody, and Dad (and several other siblings) were like "We're coming," to say goodbye and whatever. So natch, Kris goes to the doctors and is like "Hay, guys. She's got 6 other kids and a bunch of them are on their way, so can we just hang out with the tube a little longer until they get here?" Or, you know, like the dick she is, doesn't. She couldn't tell them that Grandma was DNR the first time they brought her back, but I'll be damned if that woman has a considerate bone in her body (or an intelligent one, which may be it--the last couple of times we went down there when Grandma was not doing well I had to end up doing all the doctor-interference) and so Kris just lets them extubate her before anybody could get there. Dad and Uncle John were only some 20 minutes and an hour away respectively (should have been there way before then, but there was a major traffic jam that Dad's undoubtedly really, really pissed off at) and then they have to get there and deal with all of not only that but all her moneygrabbing shit. Kris actually slipped up once, when the not-quite-as-worthless sibs were talking about paying for the funeral and flying down one of the brothers that just doesn't have the cash to make it and billing everything to the life insurance, and called it her life insurance money. Seriously, how you get like that I'm just not sure.
So we're leaving early Thursday morning for the funeral on Friday and then coming back on Saturday, presumably. My laptop gave me a scare the other day, but it's been working okay screen-wise since my birthday (I did get a birthday present!), so I'll hopefully have that. And be asleep through at least part of the first drive, hopefully--we're leaving just an hour or two after I've been fallng asleep in the early morning lately, so that plus Dramamine carsickness stuff and I shall be out. Quality of said sleep in a car may be meh, but whatever.
Okay, so since the post got deleted,then the comment that made me see it was from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bleakone, which I shall tack on here and then reply to because LJ decided to fail:
*hugs* I'm sorry about your grandmother, dear. I lost mine just over a year ago and I wasn't very demonstrative about my sadness either. The only person who made me feel bad about it was my mother, though.
My mom's already written me off as a heartless bitch. Due to the non-demonstrated sadness (like, ever) and the fact that I told her I didn't want to go to the funeral. Or, you know, was being neurotic and not looking forward to 6 hours in a car--turns out we're taking the blue van and it's just three of us in it since Tyler and Dad are already down there (left when Dad got the call that she'd stroked really badly the night before and been illegally resuscitated), so it'll be better than I thought. Plus, I don't really see the point of funerals, especially this one since it's being done by one of her sons who is one of those misogynistic Lutherans and not Catholic like my grandmother. Isn't the point of a religious ceremony to have it do whatever it does based on the deceased's religion? Plus, I'm a reactive crier like whoa. If my dad starts (which he probably will during the funeral, because he's one of those sensitive man-types despite how he looks rather like a football player), I'll be gone no matter what even though I'm not particularly sad myself, just horridly. . . Deanna Troi-esque empathetic.
And because other entry got eaten somehow, shall copy and paste (and elaborate) from bit sent to me with a comment email.
So, it was a Twitter thing and I said this (Monday):
* 00:59:26: Grandmother died. 6 hr drive+relatives making me feel guilty that I'm not more visibly torn up = always my fav way to spend end of vacation.
* 01:02:36: My fault that I rationalize (quality of life wasn't terrific--lived@home but had ministrokes every month or so) and internalize? Hardly.
* 01:26:34: What does piss me off? She was DNR &had been down 4a while, & they brought her back so she had to die in a hospital instead of in her sleep.
Fail!aunt again. The one I bitch about every time something happens with Grandma, she's causing fuckloads of drama as per usual. The last thing my grandfather said to my grandma when he was dying was not to let fail!aunt move into the house. Yeah, that lasted all of a month. Living off of Grandma's Social Security, not helping her out, you know, at all. Especially health-wise--Grandma was in congestive heart failure, which means no salt, right? Instead of the special low-sodium Meals on Wheels we hooked her up with, Kris decides that she wouldn't like that (read: Kris wouldn't like them) and buys them takeout every night because fuck if she cares.
Latest drama. She hid the will. No kidding. Because she's not the executor, one of the brothers is, but she's claiming the will says she is and figures she can execute everything as cheap as possible (hence why another brother is doing the funeral even though he's a Lutheran pastor and Grandma was Catholic) and then pocket all the life insurance. Both my dad and the brother that's supposed to be the executor know where she's showed them it used to be, but Kris is all "Oh, huh," and sits there with this smirk on her face (Dad's words, not mine, obv., as I'm not down there yet). Kris is evidently too much of an idiot to understand that THE MONEY DOESN'T JUST GO TO HER IF THERE'S NO WILL. God. It's called Probate. Read a fucking book.
Speaking of idiot. Mom told me at one point (funneling info from Dad, who got it from Kris), that Sunday night Grandma'd had a big stroke and wasn't breathing for a really long time, but the paramedics brought her back even though she was DNR, like I said. She was comafied and had little brain activity and "blind" (though that made no sense, as how could they know if she was in a coma whether she could see or not? Then I figured out later Monday that that was just Kris being an idiot and that the doctors had probably told her that her pupils weren't reactive to light) and tubed up, which sucks royally because I'd so much rather just die in my sleep, right? Stupid, but untll they've got proof that that is the case, they can't exactly just not resuscitate somebody, so I get that. Kris calls everybody, and Dad (and several other siblings) were like "We're coming," to say goodbye and whatever. So natch, Kris goes to the doctors and is like "Hay, guys. She's got 6 other kids and a bunch of them are on their way, so can we just hang out with the tube a little longer until they get here?" Or, you know, like the dick she is, doesn't. She couldn't tell them that Grandma was DNR the first time they brought her back, but I'll be damned if that woman has a considerate bone in her body (or an intelligent one, which may be it--the last couple of times we went down there when Grandma was not doing well I had to end up doing all the doctor-interference) and so Kris just lets them extubate her before anybody could get there. Dad and Uncle John were only some 20 minutes and an hour away respectively (should have been there way before then, but there was a major traffic jam that Dad's undoubtedly really, really pissed off at) and then they have to get there and deal with all of not only that but all her moneygrabbing shit. Kris actually slipped up once, when the not-quite-as-worthless sibs were talking about paying for the funeral and flying down one of the brothers that just doesn't have the cash to make it and billing everything to the life insurance, and called it her life insurance money. Seriously, how you get like that I'm just not sure.
So we're leaving early Thursday morning for the funeral on Friday and then coming back on Saturday, presumably. My laptop gave me a scare the other day, but it's been working okay screen-wise since my birthday (I did get a birthday present!), so I'll hopefully have that. And be asleep through at least part of the first drive, hopefully--we're leaving just an hour or two after I've been fallng asleep in the early morning lately, so that plus Dramamine carsickness stuff and I shall be out. Quality of said sleep in a car may be meh, but whatever.
Okay, so since the post got deleted,then the comment that made me see it was from
bleakone, which I shall tack on here and then reply to because LJ decided to fail:*hugs* I'm sorry about your grandmother, dear. I lost mine just over a year ago and I wasn't very demonstrative about my sadness either. The only person who made me feel bad about it was my mother, though.
My mom's already written me off as a heartless bitch. Due to the non-demonstrated sadness (like, ever) and the fact that I told her I didn't want to go to the funeral. Or, you know, was being neurotic and not looking forward to 6 hours in a car--turns out we're taking the blue van and it's just three of us in it since Tyler and Dad are already down there (left when Dad got the call that she'd stroked really badly the night before and been illegally resuscitated), so it'll be better than I thought. Plus, I don't really see the point of funerals, especially this one since it's being done by one of her sons who is one of those misogynistic Lutherans and not Catholic like my grandmother. Isn't the point of a religious ceremony to have it do whatever it does based on the deceased's religion? Plus, I'm a reactive crier like whoa. If my dad starts (which he probably will during the funeral, because he's one of those sensitive man-types despite how he looks rather like a football player), I'll be gone no matter what even though I'm not particularly sad myself, just horridly. . . Deanna Troi-esque empathetic.
