Who is really the hypocrite? Me or her?

Who is really the hypocrite?

 

I am facing a very stressful and quite dangerous surgery next week.  My family is in Florida. I rely on my friends if I need help.  To ask for help is a crime for me. I am much happier being on the giving side of things than being a taker.  If I must "take" I feel humiliated and unworthy. So.....I don't ask for help unless I really need it.  But, if anyone, barring my ex-husband asked me for help, I would drop everything I was doing, rearrange plans, etc., and help the person in need.  After all.  Isn't that why we have friends? In my current situation, I do need help.  I have a dog who needs to be cared for by someone she knows.  I need a ride to the hospital on Friday and will probably be discharged on Sunday and will need a ride home. I'm becoming less and less fond of social media.  If anything I complain about snow or just post what I'm doing.  I love to joke and am known for my love of Snicker's Bars. But it's different when it comes to true friendship.

 

As I am currently lacking in the common sense department, I posted that I was going into surgery next week. One of my Facebook friends responded that "she was sorry to ear that and that I should let her know if she could help in any way. 

 

I knew that my neighbor Caroline would take care of my dog. She's a very low maintenance old lady of a Lab/Pittie mix.  She's happy eating and sleeping.  Going outside is something she loves, but for 2-3 days, she can go without some exercise. But I did need transportation to and from the hospital, which is about 12 miles from where I live.

 

I replied to her post and and asked, "hey, there is something you can do for me.  I need a ride to the hospital.  I know it's a pain because I live so far out in the boonies, but I'll give you $25 for gas. Can you help me out?"  The "friend" who posted the above offer of help answered right away. "I'm sorry.  I'm busy that day."

 

Pause.  Pause.  Uhhhh.  No I do not have writer's block.  I'm astounded at what I construed as hypocrisy.  If there is a chance you are not willing to help, don't offer to "help in any way" asshole.  You just made me feel one hundred times more nervous and frightened about what is coming up in about a week than I felt before I posted that I was having my third back surgery next week. How am I going to get there?  Will this surgery succeed?  What if I die during surgery (1st symptom of panic)? What if I'm paralyzed?

 

For my first back surgery, I asked my son and his wife to come up to help me.  My son's wife told me that they could not come up because she had to work that week.  This was a day procedure.  I was on Facebook a day or two after I got home. Since my daughter-in-law had to work, My friend Bonnie, took me to the hospital, waited for me to get out of surgery and then drove me home.)  Ironically, she is not a Facebook "friend." She's someone I met in 2003 when she hired me at Mack Trucks.   We became fast friends and have been through a lot together; both of us helping the other cope with many tough times, including the kick in the stomach we each felt when our beloved mothers passed away; mine in 2005 and hers in 2014.  We always been there to support each other. 

 

A few days after that surgery, I started seeing photos of my son, his children and his wife, who live in Tennessee, posted at my daughter-in-law's father's home in Cleveland. I thought she had to work?  That one stung.  I had let go of the hurt I felt, but I do not trust her, nor is our relationship the same.  I still love her and I suppose that is all that matters.

 

That back surgery failed.  I was in the most incredible pain.  Given the choice of enduring that pain or being dismembered I would happily chosen dismemberment.  We got one snow storm after another that winter (2012/2013) and I had to shovel it.   I was falling and could not keep my balance.  One afternoon I was ironing a shirt and collapsed onto the ironing board.  My right inner forearm landed on the hot iron, and I could not move to get it off.  Finally I got my strength back.  I had a second degree burn.  The scar still shows the steam holes from the bottom of the iron. Sometimes I would fall down the steps.  Other times I would just collapse in the kitchen.  I was in a Pain Management program....they are all the same.  Yes, they were treating my pain, but I was like a zombie.  I am a Depressive, and that disorder was clearly exacerbated as well.  Twice, in the fog of my drug-ridden mind, I decided it would be a good idea to take a ride in my car.  Both times, I got DUI's.  I have a good attorney, and the offenses were consolidated and dropped to a careless driving offense.  So now I am also a criminal.  I knew I had to get off those drugs so I stopped seeing that pain management group and stopped the medication on my own. I worked on pulling myself out of depression.  I used meditation, color therapy and bottles of Tylenol and Advil.  I'd go about 2-3 months, then ask my PCP for something milder, like Flexeral (a muscle relaxer) and a low dose Vicodan.   Ah!  A bit of relief. When word of those driving offenses got out to my family, they went viral through my family of seven siblings.

I was on, what I've long recognized to be, "the hot seat." The hot seat is very old and needs to be replaced.  It's still sturdy enough, but it's been around since I was a little girl.  In my family, some one is always on the hot seat.  The critics and judges come out. Insults are strewn like hatred, gossip moves like white water rapids, and personal boundaries are crossed. I braced myself, knowing all to well that I was now the occupant of that chair.  Being a fighter and having a habit of saying exactly what is on my mind, when someone would call me to criticize me, I'd ask them this; "Please tell me, exactly who, out of my seven siblings called me to see how I was doing after my surgery?"  (the answer is "no one.")" I must have asked that question about 15 times during 2013. So, nobody gives a shit that I'm in surgery and a failed one at that, but when I'm on the hot seat, they come out in droves.  I am dysfunctional, yet they are not. Other times, my sister-in-law was on the hot seat.  Sometimes it was my brother.  Or, one of my favorites (as long as it's not me) and a family specialty is when lines are drawn in the sand between two family members are in a fight of sorts.  Sides are taken in that case. The hot seat could also include someone whose marriage was ending due to infidelity.  Sides are always drawn during those situation and since majority wins, the person with most people who vote against the party in the divorce is placed on the hot seat. 

A driving offense? Now that is cause for not only being put on the hot seat, but I had a terrible fear that this time, the electrodes would be hooked up as well.  Sibling stuff.  We all have it.  Name one person who comes from a functional family.  We should have a contest for who has the most insane family.
 

The worst part of 2013 was, while I struggled with the pain, alienation, judgment and criticism from those I love the most; my brothers and sisters, My sister Jane won the prize for adding the most misery to my current situation as possible.  Jane is different, and in a minute, you'll understand why. She is the Director of Pre-Trial Services in Monroe County, FL decided to come.  Due to my driving offenses, she felt there was a problem with my post op medication, as did I.  She must be one hell of a counselor because when I speak to her, I feel like shit.  Per Jane's best clinical advice, I should not take any pain medication following back surgery because it's addicting.  I refer to these people as AA Nazi's.  If someone take a hit of weed or has a drink, they are an addict and must be immediately admitted to a rehab facility.  The funny part is that coming from a family of seven siblings not including spouses, if her conclusion about one who takes a hit of weed is true, then about 68% of the people in my family need to go to rehab.  She doesn't harass them about it because she does not know about their occasional and recreational usage of a drug that is about to become legalized for medicinal purposes in several states within the next year.  That's just weed.  Now just imagine how she feels about a post op regime of Oxycodone for as long as I was on one for my first surgery. (11 weeks?)  Death was surely around the corner for me, even though I had stopped the opiates., out of fear and humiliation following my driving offenses. Even five months after I had happily left those opiates behind me, the barrage of judgment, criticism and gossip continued.  This set her burning desire to keep the focus off of herself and onto someone else ablaze.

When I told my family that I was having a second surgery in November 2013, Jane decided to fly up here to help me.  I politely asked her NOT to do that.  Please?  Please? I'm no dummy.  This was not out of the kindness and care she had for her younger sister. I refused to believe that.  Since she had gone from raging critic to wanting to "be here for me," in a nano-second,  I suspected it was more along the lines of her being able to control me and be sure I was not taking 120 pills at once.  She would be in charge, which, by the way has always been her M.O.  Control freak?  That is an understatement. After my surgery she went home.  I'm not sure whether her bags were unpacked yet, but her barrage of lectures and unsolicited advice, which was doled out in an untactful tone, which sounded much like fury and anger, picked up where she left off just before offering to fly up here.  So, I've learned to ignore her fanaticism and not speak to her.  "Thanks for flying up.  It was really nice of you but I never asked you to do that, and if I need you to be here for me, I'll let you know."

 

For that surgery and the personal lessons I had learned about pain management from my first surgery, I was off the pain medication four weeks post-op and only on non-narcotics. I was feeling great. I had no pain!!!!!  In February of 2014, I was on the dance floor, rocking to a live cover band.  No pain the next day!  I mowed the law, I worked around my house, I lifted heavy boards and moved furniture around, I cleaned the gutters, I created a very cool rock and fern garden in my back yard.  Life was great. 

In July 2014, I noticed pain in both of my legs that was gradually worsening over a period of about five weeks. When it got to the point where I could not walk or stand for more than 10 minutes, I was admitted to the hospital to be checked for Cauda Equina Syndrome. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cauda_equina_syndrome 

During my stay, I consulted with my surgeon again. He advised that all of my weigh-bearing activity had skipped L4-L5 and had damaged L5-S1. Now I had a huge herniation at that level.  No doubt about it.  It was crushing the nerves to my legs and that unbearable pain was back.  No doubt about it.  Everyone, including me, knew I needed surgery. 

He wanted me to try some aquatic therapy, which I enjoyed, but it really didn't help.

 

This time, to avoid gossip, etc., I've informed no one except my son that I'm having my third back surgery.

 

Back surgery patients understand back pain.  It's horrific.  There are times when I'm cooking and start to feel the numbness rising from my ankles into my calves.  I barely make it to sofa and elevate my legs until the numbness subsides.  Other times, it just feels like my lower back has been hit 20 times with a baseball bat and my legs are on fire.

 

Should I go into pain management, to consult with a pain specialist who missed a few classes in college (Empathy 101 and Compassion 240)?  But PA-C and MD certification for those who specialize in pain management must have a requirement of at least one semester of course geared toward dealing on a one-to-one basis with the patient.  These course may or may not included, but are not limited  to Paranoia (100), suspicion (201 and 301) and advanced skepticism (320). They are clearly in the wrong business. To feel that amount of suspicion and paranoia all day long must wear on the mind, body and soul.  Everyone who walks through their doors is a drug seeker.  They all fit the clinical profile.  I don't know about other patients, except from others to whom I spoke concerning this specialty in medicine. What I've heard from others and see on reviews on the Internet closely match my interpretation above.

I'm there because I'm in pain and need help. Rather than use proper judgment (and in my case, whatever you do,  but do not prescribe Oxycodone for me) they tend to over medicate no matter what the patient has to say. 

 

To top it off, these people are rude.  I've already had an initial consultation with Dr. Levinstein from PA Pain Management.  He walked into the exam room.  Rather than the normal introduction of "Hello, my name is....."  "Hi, I'm...nice to meet you,"  he said, "what's your beef?"  When he said that to me, I tilted my head in body language that said, "Excuse me?"  I stared at him.  He backed down, but not much.  He tried again by asking, "what do you need?"  I answered with "Hello, my name is Joanne Moore.  Nice to meet you."  They were raised by wolves.  There can be no other explanation.  People who know me understand that neither my sister's professional assessment nor the paranoia of the Pain Management Physicians are uncalled for and untrue.  Good-bye rude. Have a nice trip.

 

I have two choices. None of which are appealing.  I can go to pain management, endure the torture of their bedside manner and become addicted to opiates for the rest of my life.  I'd be constantly looking over my shoulder for my sister Jane wielding a machete at me.  Trust me, euthanasia would be a blessing if you have to encounter her. Or I can live in agony and rely on Advil.  I found a middle ground.  I take the pain for as many months as I can and I fight off the depression that comes with chronic, untreated pain.  Once I feel as if I'm going to climb the walls, I go to my family doctor and get a month's supply of pain medication.  For a month, I am able to function without crying, without falling to my knees and begging God to take the pain away. Then I stop for a few months.  It's the best I can do.  My choices are slim to null.  Time will tell.

 

Back to, "yes, there is something you can do for me."  When I'm unhappy, I look deep inside of myself and try to determine the cause of my unhappiness, become acutely aware of it, come up with a plan to rid my self of what is making me unhappy and work on removing it from my character.

 

A friend of mine, and Best Selling Author, Tara Meyer-Robson has a wonderful test on her website. (http://www.tarameyerrobson.com/empath-test).  Per Tara, an Empath needs to learn how to say no.  I took her test and yes, clearly I am an Empath. To make a long story short, this is Tara's opinion: (one with which I happen to agree)  "Learn to say no. Most people are spread too thin and simply allow their lives to become overrun with stress....Tara Meyer-Robson"

 

In my opinion, since I am an Empath and would stop what I'm doing to help another probably means that I do expect that characteristic to be intrinsic in everyone else.  Well, that thinking on my part is not only naïve but insane at best.  Which is surely why I'm angry at the person who said she was busy and could not help me.  Because I would have dropped everything and helped HER, does not make me commendable.  It makes me incapable of saying "no."  A personality characteristic that is not healthy is basically one that make me feel bad inside. For starters, I've now discovered that I need to stop myself from being an Empath.  I don't like the idea that I cannot say "no." I spend too much of my energy helping others and don't reserve that positive energy I'm putting out for myself.  And, it would be nice to rid at least some of the stress in my life, considering my physical and family issues.  One thing at a time.  I am able to rid myself of being an Empath.  To me, awareness is key.  Then comes practice....oop...there you go againg...back up.  Try again.  Soon it becomes intrinsic.  I want that.

 

There are two sides to that coin. I don't want to ever become an unkind, greedy, person who thinks only of her own needs.  I DO want to help people, I want to surprise people about whom I care deeply with random acts of kindness,  but in order to keep that quality of mine that I love so much and I consider a gift from God, I need to find a middle ground with it.  I too can say no. I am also free to help someone as long as it does not cost me my own positive energy. I.e.; I was at the Sands Casino in Bethlehem last year.  I was winning. My "credit" of well over $400 showed on the electronic evil machine that loves to take my money but on occasion, gives me a little boost of a win so that I come back. Some girl I had never seen before sat beside me and said, "Wow! You are doing good tonight!  Can I have sum munny?" I slowly turned in my chair to look at her and said, "you don't even know me. Do you think it's good decorum to approach a total stranger and say 'cann I have sum munny?  It's rude and the answer is 'no' you may not have some money."  She replied, "hey, don't get all butt hurt.  I just asked you for some money."  I retorted, "Yes you did and it was rude.  Get lost. Please? Pretty please with sugar on top?"

If someone I loved and cared for asked me the same question, the answer would have been 'yes.'"  If I didn't have the money, I would have to say "no."

If I saw a perfect stranger, more than likely an elderly person who needed help, I would quickly step up and help that person...if I could.

 

HOWEVER, I wouldn't offer my help if I wasn't sure I could help in "anyway." (and then come up with some flimsy excuse as to why I couldn't help.)

 

So, I'm pissed at someone who offered help but clearly was not sincere in her offer.  Being an Empath led me (I cannot speak for other Empaths) to expect (big word there....) others to act as I would as an Empath.  (That's just what happens to me.  I have no idea how being an Empath affects others.) They should drop what they are doing and help me because that is what I would do. 

 

I should and do know better.  Expectations will kill me.  They are usually followed by disappointment.

 

I'm pissed off. That too says a lot. It's not hurting the one who is insincere.  It's hurting me.  Anger is poison to the soul. 

 

1.  Someone hurt my feelings today because they did not meet my expectations.

 

2.  I need to keep that balance of not being an Empath yet retain a good heart, a "pay it forward" attitude and continue to love the woman in the black robe, out of her chambers and up on her bench, with her well exercised first finger pointing in different directions (while three fingers are pointed back at her), who is my sister Jane. (not easy, but not impossible).  I do love her...just don't tell anyone.

 

3. I think I've found the middle of the road for pain vs. pain relief and my fight against addiction.

 

4. I found someone who Layla loves, who will take me to and from the hospital and stay her with my baby girl while I'm in the hospital.

 

5. I've made the decision to step off of the hot seat and take space from my family.  They see it as me alienating them.  I call it self preservation.

 

6. I hope like hell I don't end up in diapers and a wheel chair for the rest of my life after next weekend.

 

7. If someone is not going to help me when I need it, or if I'm being judged, criticized in a way that makes me feel terrible about myself, I need to consider that person to be toxic and he or she  must be removed from my life. Toxicity robs me of love and positive energy.  I will continue to love and preserve the love I receive from those who know me the best.

The moral of the story is that the person who hurt my feeling is still a good person. It's not my responsibility to expect anything from her or anyone else.  It's not my job to change who they are.  My job is to continue to look deep inside of my soul with clear and pure honesty, even if I do not like what I see, and change that part of me.  I'm not here to judge people.  Certainly I don't like when I am judged. When I mentioned hypocrisy in the beginning of this blog, I found that very characteristic flaw in my own personality. I judged this woman for not being exactly like me.  WTF?  It's so much better to find self honestly than it is to be completely focused and pissed off at another's actions.  Additionally, I "owned" the hurt from that situation.  I could have pushed it away had I known what this blog has helped me to consider about myself.
 

JM