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I haven’t written about my sister for a while but it’s not because she isn’t still interesting. Or embarrassing. It’s more that I just get tired of the crazy and sometimes writing about it starts to feel like crazy overload. Lynne was have trouble with the police recently and was calling me all the time to tell me about it. She would complain that they were always driving by and watching her. I doubt that was the paranoia. I think that if they have any idea at all it would behoove them to keep an eye on her.
She was bothering neighbors this year and evidently a couple of them actually turned her in. One neighbor saw my dad outside and told him that he needed to do something about her. That brings me back to something that really pisses me off. People always seem to have this idea that the family just doesn’t know or want to be bothered. The reality is that you can be pretty crazy and there is nothing that anyone can do to help. If you’re new here, please check out a few of these stories to get an idea of the frustration involved in trying to get help for a mentally ill family member. Here's a good one.
Lynne’s harassment of the neighbor’s continued and the police continued driving by. Then they stepped it up a notch and started knocking on her door. Which in turn stepped up the crazy phone calls to my house.
Lynne- “I don’t know what those people want but they were at the door.”
Me- “What people?”
Lynne- “The police.”
Me- “Didn’t you answer the door?”
Lynne- “Hell, no, I didn’t answer the door! For all I know, they might want to haul me off.”
Me- “So you just pretended not to be home? Like Grandma used to do when we had to play the “hiding game” when the Jehovah’s Witnesses were in the neighborhood?”
Lynne, sounding smug.- “Yep.”
A few days later there was another frantic call.
Lynne- “Jesus Christ, they were here again!”
Me- “Huh? The police?
Lynne- “Yes, those bastards.”
Me- “Well, what did they want?”
Lynne- “I don’t know! I didn’t answer the door. Do you think I’m crazy or something? I just know that I didn’t call them and I don’t want any part of it.”
Me- “Well, if you don’t answer the door then how are you going to find out what they want?”
Lynne, screeching- “I don’t give a fuck what they want! I just climbed out my bedroom window for Christ’s sake!”
I couldn’t respond for a while because I was laughing too hard. They eventually caught up with her outside and just advised her to leave the neighbors alone.
My mom called a few days ago to tell me that there were a couple of murderers loose in Lynne’s small town.
Mom- “It was in the paper. They beat some guy to death and they haven’t found them yet. I’m not telling Lynne.”
I thought that was pretty funny but still, I thought maybe she should have a head’s up on actual killers loose in town, as opposed to the regular thing where she just thinks the neighbors are trying to kill her.
Showing posts with label Lynne. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lynne. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 09, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
No, I'm not a Professional Chef, but Thanks for Asking...
I'm working on a long, informative type post about the new HPV vaccine, Gardasil for tomorrow. But in the mean time I have a baking story. Well, two baking stories.
Over the weekend I helped the girls bake a cake. They both helped with the various labor intensive tasks, such as opening the box, etc. We frosted the cake with their favorite confetti frosting. Everything was good the first day.
The next day I decided to put the cake out of sight so that Marin didn't get in it. I can still remember clearly the time her big brothers decided to get into a chocolate meringue pie without the benefit of adult supervision. It looked like there had been raccoons in the house.
In the interest of heading off trouble, I hid the cake in the oven. Then I promptly forgot about the hidden cake and pre-heated the oven. When I heard the beep signaling that it had arrived at the correct temperature I opened the oven and discovered that I had re-baked the cake. I thought the kids would be upset but they just ate it anyway.
I don't bake a lot but sometimes I get in a mood and make a pie, home-made cookies or even the day-long project of cinnamon rolls. Since these tend to be infrequent events I somehow end up with stockpiles of powdered sugar. My friend Andrea is the same height as me but has freakishly long arms. This means that Andrea is the one I talk into doing the things that would require me to get a chair and drag it into the kitchen.
Andrea was organizing the cabinet over the sink that holds my baking supplies a few months ago. She pulled everything out and we discovered the powdered sugar stockpile. I had over six packages which would probably be enough to last for the next decade. Then she pulled out a bag containing crystallized brown sugar that was only identified by the label on the bag. It had about half-a-cup. Clearly I always think that I need powdered sugar but it's really brown sugar.
So far not that interesting, right? Then my mom called me a few days ago and started talking about powdered sugar.
Mom- "When your dad comes to visit, I'm sending a couple of bags of powdered sugar."
Me- "Are you kidding? Didn't I tell you about the embarrassing supply we found in my cabinet?"
Mom- "No, what do you mean?"
Me- "Well, apparently I always think we're out but we're not. In fact, we're never out."
Mom- "I do that too! That's why I'm sending you the extra."
I had to call my sister after that and find out if this is a dysfunction that runs in our family.
Me- "So, do you have more than one bag of powdered sugar at your house?"
Lynne- "No, but I need to get some. I want to do some baking."
Me- "You mean you don't have any? I have a ton because I keep thinking I'm out."
Lynne- "Well, I used to. But I had to throw all that stuff out because of the arsen*ic."
I should have seen that one coming. Just recently she called her insurance agent to try and turn in a claim for a missing shoe.
Over the weekend I helped the girls bake a cake. They both helped with the various labor intensive tasks, such as opening the box, etc. We frosted the cake with their favorite confetti frosting. Everything was good the first day.
The next day I decided to put the cake out of sight so that Marin didn't get in it. I can still remember clearly the time her big brothers decided to get into a chocolate meringue pie without the benefit of adult supervision. It looked like there had been raccoons in the house.
In the interest of heading off trouble, I hid the cake in the oven. Then I promptly forgot about the hidden cake and pre-heated the oven. When I heard the beep signaling that it had arrived at the correct temperature I opened the oven and discovered that I had re-baked the cake. I thought the kids would be upset but they just ate it anyway.
I don't bake a lot but sometimes I get in a mood and make a pie, home-made cookies or even the day-long project of cinnamon rolls. Since these tend to be infrequent events I somehow end up with stockpiles of powdered sugar. My friend Andrea is the same height as me but has freakishly long arms. This means that Andrea is the one I talk into doing the things that would require me to get a chair and drag it into the kitchen.
Andrea was organizing the cabinet over the sink that holds my baking supplies a few months ago. She pulled everything out and we discovered the powdered sugar stockpile. I had over six packages which would probably be enough to last for the next decade. Then she pulled out a bag containing crystallized brown sugar that was only identified by the label on the bag. It had about half-a-cup. Clearly I always think that I need powdered sugar but it's really brown sugar.
So far not that interesting, right? Then my mom called me a few days ago and started talking about powdered sugar.
Mom- "When your dad comes to visit, I'm sending a couple of bags of powdered sugar."
Me- "Are you kidding? Didn't I tell you about the embarrassing supply we found in my cabinet?"
Mom- "No, what do you mean?"
Me- "Well, apparently I always think we're out but we're not. In fact, we're never out."
Mom- "I do that too! That's why I'm sending you the extra."
I had to call my sister after that and find out if this is a dysfunction that runs in our family.
Me- "So, do you have more than one bag of powdered sugar at your house?"
Lynne- "No, but I need to get some. I want to do some baking."
Me- "You mean you don't have any? I have a ton because I keep thinking I'm out."
Lynne- "Well, I used to. But I had to throw all that stuff out because of the arsen*ic."
I should have seen that one coming. Just recently she called her insurance agent to try and turn in a claim for a missing shoe.
Tuesday, June 09, 2009
Acting Up
My sister has been acting up again. If you have been reading my blog for a while, then you know “acting up” is my family’s code for crazy. She started acting crazy last summer and since then it has been intermittent but never gone away. Some weeks are worse than others. This week is already starting off as a bad one.
Lynne has had the idea now for a while that she is being poisoned. First it was arsen*ic poisoning (Sorry about the asterisk but I can’t risk her finding my blog). She claimed that a blood screen for mercury detected the arsen*ic and her levels were elevated. Since then she has been talking about it non-stop, including accusations that her family is poisoning her. She even accused me despite the fact that I haven’t even seen her in over a year. She thought that I might be involved because I don’t show enough interest in helping her get to the bottom of her nonsensical issues. It is beyond me how to act interested in an imaginary illness and therefore I am aloof and disinterested. My nephew says,”Arsen*ic, arsen*ic, arsen*ic, that’s all I ever hear.”
Lynne has also developed a preoccupation with lawn chemicals. She has decided that the neighbors are trying to kill her by spraying their yards. She has been making numerous phone calls trying to get them to stop. She has called the county prosecutor to try to have them charged with assault. When that didn’t work she then moved on to the police, the CDC and the FBI and probably others.
Here is the ironic part. Last week police officers were visiting her neighbors about the spraying incident. It wasn’t because the police were concerned about the spraying but it was because the FBI had called them. The FBI had requested that they talk to the neighbors about Lynne to determine if she was a danger. I can’t help but find it mildly amusing that after all the times that she has thought that the FBI was watching her, now they kind of are.
Lynne has had the idea now for a while that she is being poisoned. First it was arsen*ic poisoning (Sorry about the asterisk but I can’t risk her finding my blog). She claimed that a blood screen for mercury detected the arsen*ic and her levels were elevated. Since then she has been talking about it non-stop, including accusations that her family is poisoning her. She even accused me despite the fact that I haven’t even seen her in over a year. She thought that I might be involved because I don’t show enough interest in helping her get to the bottom of her nonsensical issues. It is beyond me how to act interested in an imaginary illness and therefore I am aloof and disinterested. My nephew says,”Arsen*ic, arsen*ic, arsen*ic, that’s all I ever hear.”
Lynne has also developed a preoccupation with lawn chemicals. She has decided that the neighbors are trying to kill her by spraying their yards. She has been making numerous phone calls trying to get them to stop. She has called the county prosecutor to try to have them charged with assault. When that didn’t work she then moved on to the police, the CDC and the FBI and probably others.
Here is the ironic part. Last week police officers were visiting her neighbors about the spraying incident. It wasn’t because the police were concerned about the spraying but it was because the FBI had called them. The FBI had requested that they talk to the neighbors about Lynne to determine if she was a danger. I can’t help but find it mildly amusing that after all the times that she has thought that the FBI was watching her, now they kind of are.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Crazy- It's the New Black
A couple of days ago we attempted to get help for my sister and nephew. It’s difficult to even explain to anyone that hasn’t been through it but it is an incredibly frustrating experience. The laws make it difficult to force anyone to get psychiatric help against their will. This makes sense because we wouldn’t want people to easily get someone locked up just out of spite, etc. The problem comes in the balance between personal liberty and the safety of the mentally ill person and those around them.
The criteria for involuntary commitment vary by state. The key requirements for most states are the question of whether the person poses a threat to self or others. Remember, there is no law against being crazy. The difficulty lies in clearly demonstrating that there is a danger. Too many people confuse crazy with stupid and there is a difference.
When my sister is having an ‘episode’, she becomes hyper-alert and paranoid. She watches everything going on around her and draws erroneous conclusions that make no sense to the rest of us.
I spoke with someone in the psychiatry department at the hospital she goes to and he advised to have the police pick her up and take her to the hospital for a 48-hour hold. My dad went to the police station and made the arrangements. I spoke with the ER doctor at the local hospital and explained Lynne’s history and let him know that she would be brought in. Everything was done to facilitate Lynne’s transfer to the big hospital inpatient psych unit. Then it went wrong.
The officer decided that he would go over to Lynne’s house (without telling my dad) and check on her. He told her that he was there because her family was concerned. He questioned her about having suicidal thoughts, which she denied. Then he left. He called my dad and said that she was fine.
Lynne was very upset by the visit. She tried to get J, in the car with her. Fortunately, my mom and I had told J. that if there was ever a situation when she was crazy and trying to take him somewhere that he had to lie to avoid getting in the car. The lie that we had decided on was that he had diarrhea. If she did manage to get him in the car it is impossible to even guess where they might end up. The last time she was on her way to Canada when the car caught on fire. Even the burning car wasn’t enough to cause her to pull over.
I’m disgusted that the cop decided that he was qualified to judge Lynne’s mental status. Not only did he not help, he made it worse. Clearly she’s smarter than he is and she knows enough to not volunteer just how crazy she is. It’s my opinion that he never had any intention of taking her to the hospital. I think anything short of her answering the door drooling and brandishing a steak knife was not going to be considered to require any action.
The real problem here is that Lynne is crazy and lives with a child. The child is afraid and asking for help but no one will do anything. Someone left a comment here on the previous post about the reluctance of family’s to address the issue of mental illness due to shame or embarrassment. I do not believe that to be true. I am not embarrassed by my sister’s illness. My parents are not either. Anytime I have mentioned my sister’s illness to anyone I usually hear about someone in their family or a friend’s family that has the same issues. Certainly the stigma of being a psychiatric patient still exists to some extent, but it has lessened over the years. The number of people treated for depression and other mental illness has increased dramatically over the years. There are some mental illnesses that aren’t quite as innocuous or socially acceptable. Unfortunately we don’t get to choose.
If you are one of the lucky people that has never had to give this issue much thought then I want you to remember one thing. Anytime you hear a horror story like the one of the woman throwing her baby’s into the San Francisco Bay, keep in mind that there is likely a family that tried everything they could to prevent a tragedy. The families of the mentally ill have far more important things to worry about than what someone might think. We're worried about getting someone to listen.
The criteria for involuntary commitment vary by state. The key requirements for most states are the question of whether the person poses a threat to self or others. Remember, there is no law against being crazy. The difficulty lies in clearly demonstrating that there is a danger. Too many people confuse crazy with stupid and there is a difference.
When my sister is having an ‘episode’, she becomes hyper-alert and paranoid. She watches everything going on around her and draws erroneous conclusions that make no sense to the rest of us.
I spoke with someone in the psychiatry department at the hospital she goes to and he advised to have the police pick her up and take her to the hospital for a 48-hour hold. My dad went to the police station and made the arrangements. I spoke with the ER doctor at the local hospital and explained Lynne’s history and let him know that she would be brought in. Everything was done to facilitate Lynne’s transfer to the big hospital inpatient psych unit. Then it went wrong.
The officer decided that he would go over to Lynne’s house (without telling my dad) and check on her. He told her that he was there because her family was concerned. He questioned her about having suicidal thoughts, which she denied. Then he left. He called my dad and said that she was fine.
Lynne was very upset by the visit. She tried to get J, in the car with her. Fortunately, my mom and I had told J. that if there was ever a situation when she was crazy and trying to take him somewhere that he had to lie to avoid getting in the car. The lie that we had decided on was that he had diarrhea. If she did manage to get him in the car it is impossible to even guess where they might end up. The last time she was on her way to Canada when the car caught on fire. Even the burning car wasn’t enough to cause her to pull over.
I’m disgusted that the cop decided that he was qualified to judge Lynne’s mental status. Not only did he not help, he made it worse. Clearly she’s smarter than he is and she knows enough to not volunteer just how crazy she is. It’s my opinion that he never had any intention of taking her to the hospital. I think anything short of her answering the door drooling and brandishing a steak knife was not going to be considered to require any action.
The real problem here is that Lynne is crazy and lives with a child. The child is afraid and asking for help but no one will do anything. Someone left a comment here on the previous post about the reluctance of family’s to address the issue of mental illness due to shame or embarrassment. I do not believe that to be true. I am not embarrassed by my sister’s illness. My parents are not either. Anytime I have mentioned my sister’s illness to anyone I usually hear about someone in their family or a friend’s family that has the same issues. Certainly the stigma of being a psychiatric patient still exists to some extent, but it has lessened over the years. The number of people treated for depression and other mental illness has increased dramatically over the years. There are some mental illnesses that aren’t quite as innocuous or socially acceptable. Unfortunately we don’t get to choose.
If you are one of the lucky people that has never had to give this issue much thought then I want you to remember one thing. Anytime you hear a horror story like the one of the woman throwing her baby’s into the San Francisco Bay, keep in mind that there is likely a family that tried everything they could to prevent a tragedy. The families of the mentally ill have far more important things to worry about than what someone might think. We're worried about getting someone to listen.
Monday, December 08, 2008
The Cow
I’m taking a few minutes away from my current obsession, which is “Lost”. I’m kind of sorry that I got started with that since apparently I can’t stop. Fortunately, I’m almost done with the fourth season and the next won’t start until January. I was thinking of waiting until after my knee surgery before watching the rest of the season but I have proven that I have no self-restraint when it comes right down to it.
I look forward to the time that the baby naps because it means that I can watch another episode. It’s as bad as when Andrea got me hooked on “Twilight”. I didn’t even want to read a silly teen book about vampires, for God’s sake. Of course I ended up reading them all. I’m even toying with the idea of “Harry Potter “ now. I might even move on to Judy Blume. I hear “Are you There God? It’s me Margaret” is pretty riveting.
Since I broke away from the TV, I guess I might as well make this a real update instead of the brief thing I was planning. I have been meaning to mention my sister and her crazy status. My mom called me last week to say that Lynne suspected someone had been breaking into her house. The last report was that Lynne was going to the lumber yard to see if they carried finger printing kits. I come from a family of do-it-yourselfers.
Speaking of crime (or crime-fighting, whatever) I had to call the police a few days ago. Last Friday I was driving on the highway and saw a cow with his head stuck in the fence. Although, I guess that was technically a ‘her’ not a ‘him’ since I didn’t see any horns. I’m not terribly up on the bovines. I can only imagine that the cop that got that call had to be rethinking the career choice. Or possibly wishing to be in an area with actual crime.
Cows always remind me of Ogden Nash. The following is one of my favorites.
The Cow
The cow is of bovine ilk,
One end is moo, the other, milk.
I look forward to the time that the baby naps because it means that I can watch another episode. It’s as bad as when Andrea got me hooked on “Twilight”. I didn’t even want to read a silly teen book about vampires, for God’s sake. Of course I ended up reading them all. I’m even toying with the idea of “Harry Potter “ now. I might even move on to Judy Blume. I hear “Are you There God? It’s me Margaret” is pretty riveting.
Since I broke away from the TV, I guess I might as well make this a real update instead of the brief thing I was planning. I have been meaning to mention my sister and her crazy status. My mom called me last week to say that Lynne suspected someone had been breaking into her house. The last report was that Lynne was going to the lumber yard to see if they carried finger printing kits. I come from a family of do-it-yourselfers.
Speaking of crime (or crime-fighting, whatever) I had to call the police a few days ago. Last Friday I was driving on the highway and saw a cow with his head stuck in the fence. Although, I guess that was technically a ‘her’ not a ‘him’ since I didn’t see any horns. I’m not terribly up on the bovines. I can only imagine that the cop that got that call had to be rethinking the career choice. Or possibly wishing to be in an area with actual crime.
Cows always remind me of Ogden Nash. The following is one of my favorites.
The Cow
The cow is of bovine ilk,
One end is moo, the other, milk.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Crazy Again
This is not the post that I was planning on writing today. If you came here looking for funny, please skip over this one. Go directly to “Old People Feet”.
My sister is crazy again. Just to clarify for any new readers, when I say ‘crazy’, I mean really crazy. She is having a full-blown psychotic episode and it’s not pretty. You can read some of the crazy history here, here and here.
She has gradually been going in that direction for the last couple of months. I was not aware of just how bad it has become until today when I spoke with Lynne on the phone. She described waking up feeling as if she had been poked with a needle. She told me that she thought that someone had given her a shot. Because that can happen when you are sleeping at home in your own bed.
She had told my thirteen year-old nephew, J., the same story. He emailed my mom asking for help. He’s scared to be with her. My dad went to my sister’s house this afternoon and managed to talk to J. without my sister hearing. This may sound like a simple task but it’s not so simple when my sister has extreme paranoia. She had to be distracted by a friend so J. was allowed out of her sight for ten minutes.
J. told my dad that Lynne took him out of school early one day this week. He said that she took him to get his haircut and explained, “it’s for security reasons.”
It’s likely to get a whole lot worse.
My sister is crazy again. Just to clarify for any new readers, when I say ‘crazy’, I mean really crazy. She is having a full-blown psychotic episode and it’s not pretty. You can read some of the crazy history here, here and here.
She has gradually been going in that direction for the last couple of months. I was not aware of just how bad it has become until today when I spoke with Lynne on the phone. She described waking up feeling as if she had been poked with a needle. She told me that she thought that someone had given her a shot. Because that can happen when you are sleeping at home in your own bed.
She had told my thirteen year-old nephew, J., the same story. He emailed my mom asking for help. He’s scared to be with her. My dad went to my sister’s house this afternoon and managed to talk to J. without my sister hearing. This may sound like a simple task but it’s not so simple when my sister has extreme paranoia. She had to be distracted by a friend so J. was allowed out of her sight for ten minutes.
J. told my dad that Lynne took him out of school early one day this week. He said that she took him to get his haircut and explained, “it’s for security reasons.”
It’s likely to get a whole lot worse.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
The Family Dysfunction That Just Keeps Going
My sister is a big believer of showing off what you’ve got. Unfortunately, now that she’s in her forties, she’s got a bit more to show. Since she hasn’t really internalized the need for a larger size, the result is that her dresses are now REALLY short.
A few days ago, my mom was commenting on Lynne’s outrageously short dress.
Mom- “Are you sure that’s supposed to be a dress? It looks more like a blouse.”
Lynne persisted with her clothing choice, despite the taunting from the rest of us. I remember one particularly bad moment when Lynne was exiting the vehicle with her dress hiked up around her hips.
Me- “Maybe you might want to pull that thing down before everyone in the parking lot is forced to see something ugly?”
Lynne, making a token effort at maintaining the minimum required by public decency standards- “How do you know it’s ugly?”
She continued wearing the dress the entire day, forcing everyone around her to constantly remind her to yank it back down, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.
Early in the evening she was sitting on the living room floor with the dress practically around her waist when Claire overheard us laughing about it. Claire, being the resourceful seven year-old that she is, grabbed her camera and took a shot for the family album. Lynne yelled about deleting that picture but it was soon forgotten.
That is, forgotten until she realized that Claire was out in the front yard showing it to all the neighborhood kids.
Lynne then started lecturing Claire about how inappropriate that was. Claire spoke up to defend herself, stating the obvious.
Claire- “Aunt Lynne, how about if you just cover that up?”
A few days ago, my mom was commenting on Lynne’s outrageously short dress.
Mom- “Are you sure that’s supposed to be a dress? It looks more like a blouse.”
Lynne persisted with her clothing choice, despite the taunting from the rest of us. I remember one particularly bad moment when Lynne was exiting the vehicle with her dress hiked up around her hips.
Me- “Maybe you might want to pull that thing down before everyone in the parking lot is forced to see something ugly?”
Lynne, making a token effort at maintaining the minimum required by public decency standards- “How do you know it’s ugly?”
She continued wearing the dress the entire day, forcing everyone around her to constantly remind her to yank it back down, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.
Early in the evening she was sitting on the living room floor with the dress practically around her waist when Claire overheard us laughing about it. Claire, being the resourceful seven year-old that she is, grabbed her camera and took a shot for the family album. Lynne yelled about deleting that picture but it was soon forgotten.
That is, forgotten until she realized that Claire was out in the front yard showing it to all the neighborhood kids.
Lynne then started lecturing Claire about how inappropriate that was. Claire spoke up to defend herself, stating the obvious.
Claire- “Aunt Lynne, how about if you just cover that up?”
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Lynne Resists Technology
My sister had the ADT guy over today to give her a quote on an alarm system. He was going over all the different types of equipment that they had available for their systems.
ADT guy- “We have keypads or you can even have the kind of controller that you talk to.”
Lynne- “I can’t even figure out how to talk to my phone. I sure as hell don’t need something electronic in my wall talking to me and I DON’T EVEN WANT TO EXPLAIN THAT ONE.”
ADT guy- “We have keypads or you can even have the kind of controller that you talk to.”
Lynne- “I can’t even figure out how to talk to my phone. I sure as hell don’t need something electronic in my wall talking to me and I DON’T EVEN WANT TO EXPLAIN THAT ONE.”
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