So, I'm still trying to wrap my head around my brother's cancer. I haven't talked to him face to face, and I don't know when I will get the chance. I think he is working this one last weekend. The SIL needs to find true employment instead of part-time tutoring at the elementary school. More than she's done in the past, but still, the family has to have an income. All the kids are "adults" now, but there's still one at home plus his girlfriend and one who comes home all the time from college. Sure, those two have jobs, but these are part-time jobs. As in a couple shifts a week because they're in college jobs. Their money goes for their wants, not the household needs as far as I can tell. Neither of the kids has a car, so that's another strain, transportation. The Jeep we sold them is still doing fine, it's a good vehicle. Their old minivan, that won't pass inspection next month, as usual, there's so much that needs to be done they can't afford to keep throwing money at it. So now the SIL is talking a new used vehicle. Which they can't afford either. We can't afford to help them, and my brother wouldn't take money anyway. I don't mind him borrowing the Trailblazer now and again, but when the kids want our cars, well, not so much the happiness in lending.
When Wayne died, it was tragic and unexpected, but quick. Nine days, not enough time to think straight. This time, this time we have time to fret and fuss and use up in terrible ways. I want to be supportive, but the SIL will shut me out unless I play her religious stereotyped games. Argh. We are dying off too soon, three out of four siblings with cancers, yes, plural, and the remaining one has polyps removed each year. He's destined for cancer too if he ever loses his health insurance. There are not enough Bad Words in the world to express my dismay and anguish. I can try though, I can try.
All my life insurance, my brother is the beneficiary after MyLarry. I have to change all that, but I've been dragging my feet. I haven't told MML that I had two cancers in 2004. I was hoping to hit the five year mark so I could duck the health questions. I disapprove of my behavior, but we have a lot of money sunk into the annuity insurance. The term was bad enough when I turned fifty, but the agent who called let it ride at the pre-cancer level. He said I could get the new brackets at the five year mark.
I have to redo both our wills also. We have not heard from Lonny in over a year; I don't want my things to go to a complete stranger, a stranger who hates his dad. Thanks a heap, Dawn. She is evil, pure stupid evil. Ford and Desi will get everything, except a few family things. No reason not to do that, they're here for us, they take care of me when I need them. Can't say that about any of my nieces. Tiffany would if she could, but she's not nearby.
And then there's me, fat old me. I did get a new PCM, much joy. He flat out told me I needed to lose weight, which I do. I'm heavier now than ever before. Winter and menopause and Tamoxifen, oh my. I am supposed to wear loose clothing so the nerve across my hip doesn't pinch and make my leg tingly. Right. I usually wear jeans and a t-shirt around the house. Now I am supposed to wear sweatpants. I have a couple housedresses, but those scream "I'm sick and didn't get dressed" to me. I have two pairs of jammy pants, or sleep pants, a Family Guy and a Pink Floyd pair. These scream "I'm schlubbing and depressed." I don't even own sweatpants. Um, maybe one pair, in a drawer. Um, maybe the lack of exercise outfits highlights my lack of exercise. Could beeeee .....
I have always mocked fat old ladies who wear stretchy pants in public, now I am one. I am NOT giving up my jeans when I go outdoors! NO! NO! NO! They aren't tight! They're not!
And I spend too much time on the computer. Sigh. And the snow total was 18 inches. Sigh. even my fat old dog is well, fat and old.
I need MyLarry to get home this afternoon and prove to me I'm the most beautiful woman on Earth. Three or four times. He excels at that.