Sep. 4th, 2024

mollywheezy: (Default)
As an off the charts extrovert, I am friendly to everyone I meet. My default setting is to like everyone, and people have to try to get me not to like them. (I admit, there are several who have managed it.) I have made friends at the hair salon, gone out for coffee, and realized we knew people in common. Sometimes, however, my friendliness backfires, and I end up befriending people I wish I hadn’t. There were several whom Peter collectively called my “herd of high maintenance people.” I even had my own theme song. When one of my high maintenance people called, after I was off the phone, Peter would break out singing, “Crazy Train” by Ozzy Osbourne, and often called me the Crazy Train.

One person stands out above the rest in my herd of high maintenance people, and we dubbed her the Queen of all High Maintenance People, the QHMP for short. I met the QHMP when she visited my church. The pastor had a family emergency so I was leading the Lenten evening prayer service. Since she was the only person I didn't know, I introduced myself. She asked me to accompany her to a worship service the next evening, and, as I had planned to attend anyway, I agreed.

From that point forward, she called me at all hours of the day and night, until Peter had to work his technological magic on our home phone so it wouldn’t allow calls through at certain times. He generally blocked all numbers at night except those of our family, who have enough sense not to call in the middle of the night except in a true emergency.

THe QHMP made herself my “project” or as the Animaniacs would say, “my special friend” and called all the time, leaving voice mails in which she whined, “Traaaaaaceeeee, CAAAAALLLLL MEEEEEE!!! I felt for her, but honestly she needed to be talking to a psychiatrist (not me) and be on medication, my guess would be for schizophrenia. I had that conversation with her of her need to seek help from a professional for mental illness, and she cussed me out. When I told her I would not tolerate bad language, she hung up on me. I didn't hear from her for a month. She did apologize when she called back. I have successfully encouraged people to seek professional help for mental illness on numerous previous occasions. I saw a psychiatrist myself and was on medication for depression. I failed with the QHMP.

I never managed to get the QHMP to see a psychiatrist but have been able to help her on other occasions. I went with her when she had to have her cat put to sleep. I went with her to visit her mom in the hospital, and we were kicked out because they had a fight. I officiated her mom's funeral even though I did not know in advance I was doing it. I attended the visitation to be supportive when her mother died and was handed the Clergy Card (information on the family) by the funeral home director with my name on it! Thankfully, I have officiated hundreds of funerals and had a Bible in my car, but generally I prefer having more than ten minutes of notice to plan a funeral service.

~*~


The QHMP’s brother was having surgery Friday, and she asked me to go to the hospital with her because she was afraid. I was actually pleasantly surprised at how well the visit went. She was on her best behavior and thanked me many times for coming with her.

The problem with spending much time with the QHMP is she smells like cat, is covered in fur, and I'm allergic to cats. After four hours sitting in the hospital and visiting her brother, I had a splitting headache. Actually, it didn't take four hours for my headache to start. I would have left, but the QHMP panicked about being at the hospital alone. Hospitals scared her, and she didn't want to get her car from the valet because the valet scared her, and she begged me not to leave her.

When we did leave and went to get her car, she again thanked me profusely, told me how much she appreciated my being there with her, and offered to drive me to my car. I told her it wasn’t necessary, but she knew I parked in a different time zone from where we were, and I knew it would be faster if she drove me than if I walked.

I regretted agreeing to the ride when I saw the inside of her car. My car is messy, but hers is a health hazard, and I should have worn a hazmat suit. When I got home, I was itchy, and I changed clothes and saw that I had several bites. Then I found and killed a flea. There was a flea in my house. I had flea bites from being in the QHMP's car.


I returned to the hospital with the QHMP the next day and parked so there would be no chance of her offering to drive me to my car. This was not the “pleasant” visit of the previous day. In all fairness, most of the drama was not her fault. I was appalled by the way the hospital treated disabled people and saw it clearly. The hospital didn't have valet parking on weekends! I don't know what they expected someone who can't walk to do if they work, and/or their friends work, so it took us forever to get to her brother's room. The drama between the QHMP and her brother was at least half her fault, but at least we weren't kicked out of the hospital that time. She did call during the week and leave me a message thanking me profusely for my help and apologizing for all the drama "her brother caused”, but it was a sweet message, and I called her back and thanked her.


~*~

When we were leaving for vacation, Peter insisted I contact my "herd of high maintenance folks" before we left town so they wouldn't bother us while we were gone. I did as he requested, so good wife points to me.

A couple of days before we came home from vacation, I had a message from the QHMP to call her. She sounded whiny and upset, and I wasn't going to call her, but she said it was health related so I did. She usually never left any hint of why she wanted to talk. It was very late when I received the message so I called her the next morning. I got her answering machine and left her a message saying I was sorry she had a health problem and would talk to her when we were home. Later that day, I had a message from her calling me "cruel" for immediately turning off my phone since I know she's handicapped and couldn't get across the room that fast. The message went on and on and on.

I thought if she thinks I'm such a cruel and horrible person, I'm not calling her back. Why would she want me to? I did feel a bit bad I had blocked her number on my cell phone the last time I was on-call at work and had forgotten to unblock it, so I didn't know she had called right back, but I am definitely not cruel, and her calling me cruel made me angry, so I ignored her.

A few days after returning home, I had a facebook message asking why I hadn't called her back, she needed me so much, she needed prayer, etc. I was shocked to hear from her again after the voicemail she had left. While I was re-reading the message to determine a response, she saw that I had seen the message and wrote a snarky reply about my not answering her. She sent "no answer? Thanks!" within two minutes of my reading her message. I couldn't even have formulated a response that fast!

A week later, I received another long, snarky facebook message which summed up briefly said she couldn't believe I didn't call her back when she told me she had breast cancer and to think about what Jesus would do. I thought when on earth did she tell me she had breast cancer?! I looked on my facebook page, and she had written a comment to a completely unrelated post from days before so I hadn't even seen it. Having had tests for breast cancer myself, my heart went out to her, pain in the butt or not.

I wasn't anywhere long enough that day to call her. I came home to a snarky answering machine message lecturing me about how as a pastor I should be Christ-like, and Jesus would call her back. She never referred to me as a pastor, even when I officiated her mother's funeral. She also asked for my friend C's phone number, who is a grief counselor, which I knew I gave her at least six times, plus would be in the phonebook and online.

I vented to my friend S about the QHMP drama over our weekly lunch and made the comment that Jesus probably would call her back. My friend S looked at me and said, "Traci, you are NOT Jesus." I laughed so hard at that, other people in the restaurant stared at me.

I had a meeting the same day with my friend C and a social work professor because the three of us were planning a seminar we would be leading. Before we had started, the church secretary came running in and said C had to go talk to this woman on the phone RIGHT NOW because she was in DISTRESS!!! So he did.

He came back shortly with a piece of paper with a name and phone number on it. It was the QHMP. So I warned him about her after we had finished the meeting, and the social work professor had left. She was coming the next day at 10 AM to meet with him.

So I did something very Slytherin. I called the QHMP at 10:15 when I knew she was in C's office. I left a message that I was terribly sorry to hear she has breast cancer, gave her the number for C's office which I knew she already had, and said I was very hurt by the things she had said to me. I am not cruel, and if she thought I was truly a cruel and horrible person I had no idea why she wanted me to call her back.

I thought I probably wouldn't hear from her and that would be that. She wrote me a long very sweet note on FB apologizing profusely, and also called and apologized. So we talked.

She didn't know she had breast cancer. She found a lump and had not gone to the doctor because she didn't have someone to give her a ride home after having anesthesia.
1. Don't go around telling people you have cancer if you don't.
2. Go to the doctor immediately.
3. An initial doctor's visit does NOT involve anesthesia. Even if it did, at least CALL the doctor and get an appointment.

I told her all of that. She called the doctor and got an appointment. She also told me she'd see me at church on Easter Sunday. She always church hopped—she attended several different churches and would move between them if someone made her angry. It was a very good thing I was flying high from Easter worship. After the service, I wished her Happy Easter, and invited her to lunch, since we were eating out. (If you are questioning my sanity at this point, you are absolutely right, but I invite everybody to join us for lunch. They do pay for themselves, mostly.) I told her we needed to see who was coming before deciding where to go since another friend has certain things she can't eat. I invited her to sit in the Welcome Center since I needed the restroom desperately, and I would join her in a few minutes.

I was not in the bathroom for a minute, before she stuck her head in and yelled, "Traci?! Are you still in here?!" She's loud. And whiny. And, it was Easter so the bathroom was crowded. I said yes. Then she yelled back, "I'll sit out here and wait for you!"

When I came out of the restroom the QHMP was standing outside the door asking where we were going to go eat. I told her I hadn't heard from one friend yet, several people were still hanging up their choir robes so weren’t ready and invited her to sit down. She started towards the chairs, and I don't really remember why she didn't make it over there. Peter and I were discussing with a couple of friends where to go and the QHMP declared, "I just can't stand here, this is too long to stand, I have to sit down, I'm handicapped!!!" I didn't answer, and it's probably good she couldn't see Peter's face at that moment, and he didn't know about the restroom incident yet.

It was a Very Good Thing we were all happy from the Easter service, because the QHMP was SO rude to the waiter that Peter left a $20 tip. (Another reason why I LOVE my husband)

She told us at lunch she had an appointment for Tuesday after Easter. By the time she got an appointment and saw the doctor it had been a month since she found the lump. She didn't trust doctors or hospitals. I agreed to call her and check on her after her appointment. We had the best conversation we had ever had.

The QHMP had breast cancer. She went to the same surgeon I did, and disliked him just as much as I did, and looked for a different surgeon, as I did, so we had some good conversations, but I was very concerned for her. (I did not have breast cancer. I had a ruptured milk duct, as it turned out.)

~*~

Mother’s Day was weird. It’s always a hard day for me since I have never been close to my mother and was unable to have children. We had a visitor foisted onto us by a friend at church, which was fine, because Peter and I are friendly and reach out to new people. The visitor came to Sunday school late with Peter, and I walked with him to church. We weren't going to stay for the second service, but after we invited the visitor to join us for lunch, we had to. I ended up sitting with the visitor who was unable to sit still and began doing sit-ups on the pew during the sermon. I had never seen anything like it. He at least was quiet. Unlike the QHMP who was incapable of not talking throughout the entire service. She asked me questions throughout the anthem, and I hate missing the anthem, but she talked even if she was not talking to me. "Lord, it's hot in here!" *fans herself with the bulletin* "I just can't stand up for all these hymns." Etc. She also was kicking the pew, which was driving me crazy. And she was blocking my escape route.

I started thinking, "God, if you're trying to distract me from Mother's Day, I guess it's working, but seriously? The QHMP and Sit-up Dude?"

The QHMP came to Sunday lunch with us, which isn't unusual, but she was in rare form. Peter was strangling his straw wrapper to avoid strangling her. I knew what he was doing and shared the feeling. All I can say is at least we didn't have to give the waiter a $20 tip this time so it could have been worse. It was a good thing Sit-up Dude decided not to come to lunch with us because I'm not sure WHAT would have happened putting those two together.

~*~


The QHMP was supposed to have gallbladder surgery. I went to the hospital to pray with her before the surgery. We had a pretty good visit. Then I called the next day to check on her. They did not remove her gallbladder because she was full of cancer. Horrible news and the QHMP does not really have the educational or emotional reserves to grasp being told she had three months to live and there was nothing they could do. I visited her three times in a week and called her every day I didn't visit. I tried to get her discharged onto my hospice. Of course, we still hadn't gotten past her "hospice murders people" mentality. One of our nurses went with me for one of the visits, and she did a great job with her. Peter offered to make margaritas for my coworkers and have Hospice Happy Hour at our house if the QHMP became our patient. He brought me a glass of wine while I was on the phone with her.


The QHMP was released from the hospital, supposedly to be admitted to my hospice. Our admissions nurse spent 3.5 hours waiting for her to come home, and she never did. She finally called our nurse and told her she hadn't been released from the hospital, which was a lie since the hospital called us when she was released. The nurse and I visited the next day to talk/admit her, and she said she wanted to see her GP before she decided. I called the next day and both of her phones were disconnected. I knew she hadn't seen her mail while in the hospital, so figured she had probably missed paying bills. I tried to call the next day and no answer, although the phones seemed to be working again. On the following day, she texted me that she wanted to talk to hospice people. I called her immediately on both phones and there was no answer. I tried multiple times and when we finally connected she said she had had a friend visiting so hadn't answered the phone. We talked for about an hour and she said she wanted to be admitted. I had to practically force her off the phone so I could call my boss at 4:55 to see about getting her admitted. Several hours after my conversation with the QHMP, she posted on FB that she plans to go to a large teaching hospital since she has to find someone who can get this cancer out of her. She had two doctors, a surgeon, and an oncologist, tell her there was nothing they could do.

When she had breast cancer surgery, she refused chemo or radiation against medical advice, since she wasn't having that poison in her body. She ignored the doctor's advice, even when he told her the cancer was aggressive and was going to come back. This was the hardest part of my job: watching people make decisions that are not in their best interest.

I was in St. Thomas on a cruise for my in-laws’ fiftieth anniversary when I got a phone call. When I saw the caller I.D. I knew the QHMP had died. There was no other reason her brother would call me. I didn't call him back until I was alone because I didn’t want to upset our family. Of course, he asked me to officiate her funeral, except he had already planned it without asking me, and I was out of the country. At least he called me in advance, which was an improvement over their mom’s funeral. I did talk to him on the phone for about half an hour and listened as he described his sister's death and suggested other officiants he could call. She would have had excellent care and died peacefully and free from pain rather than suffering in the hospital if she had come onto hospice. Unfortunately, part of her schizophrenic delusions was that she never trusted anybody. At least the QHMP was finally at peace and back with her grandma whom she dearly loved. We had that in common.

All this happened pre-pandemic, and my herd of high maintenance people has passed away like the QHMP or quit being high maintenance for a variety of reasons. I have not collected more, since I see far fewer people now than I used to. I am still friendly, though, and I never know who I might meet.

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mollywheezy

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