This Is The Beginning Of The End
November 16th, 2008
I’m not entirely sure why I’m writing this out, let alone posting it on the internet. There’s something about putting the thoughts inside my head into a more permanent form, and perhaps all this sharing will be therapeutic in some form or another. I’m not going to pull any punches, and I have a funny feeling that reading this may upset some of my friends… as for complete strangers, who cares?
It is a very good thing indeed that my mother is here doing pretty much all the care giving for my father. The hospice nurse is here once a day, but their ministrations are largely too short, at least to give my mother some relief. But that’s why I’m here. My mother asked me today “You’ve changed diaper on a baby, right?” — no, I have not. What this made me realize is that I am utterly unprepared to take care of my father. I am very glad my mother is the tough, positive woman that she is, and it’s amazing that she’s done this much for my father already.
As you’ll remember from First post on this subject a while back, the DMV liked to jerk me around. And there was much hilarity in my analysis of the conundrum set forth before me. Let me now present Part II — there’s no conclusion yet.
The day after my first run-in with the harpies at the DMV, I estimated that the situation would be fairly easy to resolve now that I knew that all they really wanted in life was a copy of my wretched PA automobile title. To that end, I phoned PSECU again and delivered a lengthy discourse to the customer service representative on what was going on. Because they’re PSECU, they’re helpful – the CSR informed me that the easiest course of action would be if Clerk of Courts office faxed a request in for a copy of my PA title. I informed the CSR that “there’s no way those grumpy old women would actually comply with that request”, and I am 100% confident that still holds true. These are people there for a paycheck, nothing more – truly the bottom of the state service barrel — Like worse than DOT workers, except without the shovels and watching 1 of their coworkers do their job while 3 others stand around mining their noses for gold.
As most of you know, I’m a fairly new resident of Cincinnati. I came from State College, PA and Penn State a few months ago. Of course, the State of Ohio has to have their fingers in my business (as if Ohio State wasn’t pain enough) in the form of registration required for my four-wheeled child, the 4Runner. No worry, I figure – I’ve got proof of insurance, a passport and a birth certificate in my war chest for this particular sortie. Boy was I wrong.