Tossing Salt Presents:
A Day of Dougie:
Updates on Everything
DougMaynard.com
Doug Maynard

I wrote this last night (Tuesday). Most of it, anyhow. The only parts I didn’t do last night were the chapters titled Mom and The House. And things between now and then have changed with just one phone call. I wanted to do a one-size-fits-all rundown of everything, so I don’t have to explain anything over and over, and to make it easier for me to comprehend. Writing does that for me.

And right now, my world and mind are shattered. I’m going to write the last two chapters, clear my heart and soul, and just finish this up. It’s confusing, I know, but bear with me here.

I’ve been trying to sit down and write for what seems like forever, but with so many distractions, situations, and kicks to the stomach from life over the past week, settling myself long enough to sit for five minutes without being angry, confused, or crying seems next to impossible. But I’m here now, and I’ll try to address everything going on with Ma, my health, the house, and anything else that comes to mind. It may get emotional, long-winded, and be all over the place, but you’re getting pure, raw Dougie, unfiltered. The good, the bad, and everything in between. Are you ready? I’m not, but let’s do this anyhow.

Mom

What needs to be said? She was my world. If I have nothing else in this world, I know she’d always be there. Stubborn, determined, proud, and the one consistent in my life. And thirteen days ago, that changed forever. I found her in her chair, unresponsive, barely able to move, and looking every second of her 89 years on earth. I thought she was dead. But fate wasn’t that kind. A major stroke. I called 911, kept talking to her, and that was the last time I saw her.

She was rushed to the hospital and then airlifted to Charlotte. And since then, I’ve been speaking to nurses and doctors several times a day, hoping for the best, but expecting the worst. And the phone call today fulfilled my expectations. She’s not getting better. She will not recover or ever have an independent, sufficient life again. And the heart is weak, unable to do its job. With my permission, they’re removing the feeding tube, and the goal now is to just keep her comfortable until Jesus calls her home. I’m not a strongly religious person myself, but Ma truly is. And I have prayed and cried more over the past two weeks than at any other time in my life. She will be in heaven, reunited with Lynn, Steve, Jeff, Dad, Raymond, her brothers and sisters, etc. It’s just a matter of hours, days, etc., and she’ll be at peace, for the first time in a very long time. She’s my rock, my heart, and she’s leaving me. I know a part of her will always be watching over me, but she is all the family I have left. I love you, Mom.

My Health

Suffice it to say, it sucks. I’ve got one leg, diabetes, high blood pressure, and I had a minor stroke in March. And my one good foot? Only two toes are left, and half of the actual foot has been removed. I can stand and walk on it, but it’s currently infected, draining badly. I’ve already been to the hospital for this twice, and I was warned that amputation is inevitable. And I came home. Amputation means leaving my home and moving into an assisted living facility. Everything I have, possess, and every bit of independence I have, will be gone. So, I’ve given up on the doctors. I’m delaying the inevitable, but I can’t travel or drive anywhere, including to the doctors. I’m taking my meds and changing the dressing on my foot at least twice a day. My leg and arm are weakened by the stroke. My thought process has been altered, and my arm and hands are numb with the constant tingling sensations. It’s unnerving, literally. But I’m managing. And I will continue to do so, for as long as I need to. Eventually, the infections, the diabetes, and the eventual amputation will all take their toll and win the battle. Not yet, though. My stubbornness, my anger, won’t allow it. I know it’s just a matter of time before all that makes me Dougie is gone. Not without a fight, though. Not without a fight.

The House

Here’s the scoop, straight forward and blunt. Ma was handling the details, the logistics, and didn’t tell me the details. I had to find out most of this by going through her mail, papers, etc. Our home, of 45-plus years, was foreclosed upon. I don’t get it because I have the deed where it was paid off many years ago sitting right next to me. But Ally Bank claimed differently, and after lots of back-and-forth bullshit, our home was foreclosed upon. And it was sold to some real estate place out of Raeford, NC. So I guess, technically, they own our house.

A court date is scheduled for May 15th in Small Claims Court. I just found out about the court date last week. I guess that we’ll be formally given eviction papers on that date. I want to call the clerk’s office and try for a continuance to buy some time and figure out what is happening. But with Ma as she is, I doubt those blood-sucking buzzards will work with me, and I’ll probably be served eviction papers. I’m sitting here on basically fifty years of accumulated stuff, from three households, not including my stuff or Mom’s. I can’t handle getting rid of or moving this stuff alone. I have two cars I can’t drive, two animals I can barely look after, and I’ve got to figure out what to do with everything. I’m ready to just have an open house, tell people to find what they want, and make an offer, just to clear out this clutter. If I have to leave, I’m not leaving those parasites anything. I’m not leaving my home except in handcuffs or a body bag. Okay, that’s a little graphic, but my back is against the wall, and I’m fighting with this, whatever it takes. With everything going on, this is one more battle to endure. I’m learning the specifics more daily, and how it got this far, I’ll never understand. She was trying to protect me and fighting by herself. And now here we are.

Pets

I love my dog and cat. Okay, I’m lying here. I love my cat. The dog, Sparky, is old, annoying, going blind, and has been an absolute pain in the ass since Ma’s been gone. He’s sad, depressed, and misses Grandma. I get that. But he won’t eat his food, barks excessively at all hours of the night, goes outside again and again, and I still wake up to huge puddles of dog piss in the kitchen. He’s a good dog, but he wasn’t my dog. He was my brother, Steve’s dog, and then, when Steve died, he became Grandma’s dog. And we tolerate each other. If anyone wants a sweet, but stubborn, thirteen-year-old rat terrier, let me know. Otherwise, I’m just going to have him put down. I don’t want to, but I can’t look after him properly, and he is missing Ma so badly.

So far as Mouthie, the cat, goes, he’s up my ass constantly, and barely lets me out of his sight. He is lonely, being a solo house cat, but he gets along well with the Strayies, and on the few occasions that Fuego, a beautiful tuxedo cat that has taken up outside our home, has come inside the house, they have gotten along very well. I’ll open the kitchen or bedroom windows sometimes, and they’ll be there, lying in the window, with only the thin window screen between them, cuddled up together, totally content. So, I may start letting Fuego in, or if I can get him neutered, start letting Mouthie out. I want my fur baby to be happy, and ready for anything.

Nurses/Home Health

I don’t need a nurse. Actually, I do, but aside from changing the dressings on my foot, what can a nurse do? My foot is in terrible shape, but when I go to the doctor again, it’s going to be amputated. I’m only delaying the inevitable. So, I change the dressings and clean it up twice a day. I avoid any unnecessary strain or pressure, and try to stay off of it as much as possible. I don’t want people that I don’t know or trust in my home. I need help moving out and getting rid of all of this clutter, but I don’t feel that a nurse is the answer. I’m probably wrong, but that’s nothing new.

Anxiety & Paranoia

I don’t sleep much anymore. Between Sparky’s barking fits, Mouthie’s random squawls at all hours of the day and night, not to mention his checking on me every thirty minutes when I try to sleep, sleep doesn’t come easily. And I’m constantly hearing things, like strange noises in the house, people outside at night, voices that aren’t there. I hate being alone in this house, and it’s getting to me. I literally start to freak out when I have to leave the house, for whatever reason, but I hate being alone here, and honestly, it’s not safe for me to be here alone. Here’s a post I made on Facebook earlier this week.

What a morning. Dropped my phone while transitioning from bed to wheelchair. The phone slid up under the bed. I couldn’t reach it from my chair, so I lowered myself to my knees on the floor. I have one leg, and my good foot is basically useless and getting worse. But I’m on the floor and reach my phone. And then I realized I’m lying on the floor, roughly 2 feet away from where I was lying stuck, unable to move, and having a stroke for close to two hours back in March. And this time. There is no one here, no one coming to help if I get stuck. Major anxiety attack coming on, and I can barely breathe. I struggled for a bit and managed to get up and into my chair. And then I just sat there for a while and cried. And then I came to the kitchen, did the pet stuff, and mopped the kitchen. Damn dog. I’ve had enough for one day. I’m going to have to get a nurse or move somebody in. But who can I trust? I hate asking for help, and the people I know I can trust, due to past behavior, my own anxiety, etc., are few and far between. I have never felt so alone in my life.

I’m hearing things. I’m seeing things. I’m protected, but this is not a life. This is no way for a man to live. But this is what I face every waking moment. But what is my alternative? I just don’t know.

My Truck

The battery on my truck is dead, possibly a side effect of sitting idle since the middle of March. It will take a charge, but not hold it. I’m going to have to sell it anyhow. I can’t drive. And Ma’s car? Two vehicles, and I can’t drive either anymore. Oy vey!

The Future

I’m taking it day by day, moment by moment, and whatever happens happens. If anyone wants some stereos, albums, dishes, books, pots & pans, etc., just stop by the house. I’ll catch you on the other side.

Ubuntu…