Family Politics or On Being ‘Just A Niece’
Written June 2007
The last week has been especially trying and enlightening at the same time. My uncle that raised me became ill. He is one of the healthiest people I know even though he doesn’t really follow the rules of the game. The rules of the game as I’ve heard through the grapevine is that he should not drink, smoke, eat red meat and eggs because they all cause some type of illness or disease. My uncle drinks, smokes, eats meat and eggs every day and has a clean bill of health – no cholesterol, no high blood pressure, no lung cancer, no liver problems. You look at him and you would never think that he is 73 years old.
Last Sunday I walk into the house to say hello and I notice that my uncle is not doing any of the things he most enjoys. I also notice that he isn’t saying very much and he seems to be quite feverish. He’s not even paying attention to his soccer game which is the biggest indicator that something is wrong. My uncle never ignores a game.
I ask my aunt about it and she tells me he isn’t feeling well. I ask her if I should call his doctor and she says that he doesn’t want us to do anything. He gets upset that I am showing concern. Knowing my uncle and his machista ways I walk away but I still can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong with him.
On Monday morning I call my sister and tell her that I feel something is wrong. She then mentions that my aunt called her at 6 am to tell her he is shaking and can’t eat or drink anything. My sister asks at that time if we should call the doctor or paramedics and again my uncle says no. My sister then decides to get another opinion and has my brother go check on him. My brother says he is fine so she leaves it alone. By the time I call my sister it is 11 am. I ask her to please call again and check on him. The relationship that I have with my uncle is very different from the one she has with him so I know that he will not be upset with her for showing concern.
At 1 pm I receive a phone call to go home because they’ve called the paramedics and my uncle is in the hospital. I feel this large lump in my throat because I know that it took a lot for him to accept the help and if the help means paramedics this is not a good thing.
I arrive at the hospital after having been stuck in traffic for over an hour and my brother is outside. I ask if he’s been inside yet and he says no. My other brother traveled with them to the hospital but left when my cousin (their daughter) arrived.
I walk in the hospital with my brother to go and see him and am stopped by the front desk emergency room staff asking me who I am here to see. The woman asks what relation I am to the patient. At first I say I am his niece and then quickly follow it by ‘Well he’s pretty much my father because he raised me’. Then they let us in. I already know that if I say he is my uncle they will not let us in.
I get to his bedside and he has an IV and is receiving antibiotics. I’ve never seen my uncle in such a fragile state and it scares me to think that at some point of time this is going to be a regular thing.
My cousin (their daughter – technically her daughter only but who’s counting bloodline at this point) is sitting with my aunt at his bedside. One of the nursing staff comes by saying that only two visitors are allowed at a time. My aunt gets up and says that she’s been there a long time and I should sit with him. My cousin who had already been there for over an hour doesn’t budge so my brother goes outside with my Aunt. I ask him if he wants to stay before he walks out but he just looks at me and I know that I should sit down.
My sister arrives as well as his daughter-in-law and grandchild. We all want to see how he is doing. We worry more when we find out his fever is 103.7. We joke that it sounds like a radio station but nervous laughter isn’t the same as regular laughter.
… three hours later….
My uncle is admitted and moved to the third floor for observation. The nurse walks in and at this point it is my Aunt, my cousin (their daughter) and I in the room with my uncle. The nurse then proceeds to question who we are. My cousin promptly begins to answer saying, ‘This is his wife and I am his daughter’. The nurse looks at me and says, ‘Who are you?’. As I am about to respond, my cousin promptly responds, ‘Her? She’s just his niece.’ At that moment I just kind of swallowed and didn’t say a word. I am usually the girl that has witty or sarcastic comebacks but there is a time and place for everything. And right now my concern is that my Uncle get better.
The nurse then proceeds to ask about my uncle’s medical history. My cousin tries to answer about his drinking by saying he drinks 3 to 4 glasses of whiskey a day. The nurse seems really concerned so I clarify saying, ‘Actually it’s more like three to four two-ounce shots mixed with club soda and ice. The nurse then changes her demeanor and says, ‘Well that’s not too bad. Whiskey is good for you.’ Next question the nurse asks about his smoking habits and my cousin says that he smokes everyday. The nurse wants us to be more specific. My cousin stays silent so I say, ‘He smokes one cigarette with every drink so about three to four unfiltered cigarettes a day is what he smokes.’ The questioning continues on about his allergies, his eating habits, his general health and recent medical exams. These are all questions that I end up answering. By the end of the conversation the nurse is asking me questions directly and I answer without hesitation.
My cousin ends up leaving at about 7 pm indicating that she has a family to attend to. I end up staying with my Aunt and Uncle and leave about 9 pm once he is settled in for the night. I talk to the nurses about how long he is going to be there and they tell me to check tomorrow morning. They ask for my contact information in case there’s an emergency. I take my aunt to get some food and head home for the night.
For the next two days I end up having to work from home since my Aunt does not drive. I go in the morning to check on him and talk to the nurses. I end up taking him something to eat because he doesn’t like hospital food. Back and forth all day long. My routine has changed completely and I am going to sleep at 2 to 3 am each night so that I can both do my job and be there for my Aunt and Uncle when they need me.
By Wednesday evening my Uncle is going to be released. By now, my sister has noticed how much my Aunt relies on me and how much I am expected to do for them. It’s something I’ve always told my siblings but in a small way I feel redeemed that she finally understands. That it’s not just a figment of my imagination. Even though others offer to help my Aunt still expects me to do things for her.
I think about situations like this where I am ‘Just a Niece’. Never a daughter. That is my reality. I understand that and I know that my place in this home is not of a daughter but of a niece. I understand that that’s just the way it is and always going to be. They may love me in their own way but I will never be of pure enough blood to be their daughter. Their daughter (who again is technically only her daughter) will always be next of kin and will continue to point out that I am ‘Just a niece.’ That’s just in case I forget…
I write this story not to point fingers at anyone or to make anyone feel ill at ease. My hope is that others understand that situations of awkwardness like this can be avoided. It is not necessary to point out the obvious. Once you become an orphan you realize very quickly that you are no longer anyone’s child. The bloodlines have been broken and the cards have been dealt. It is something that you never forget. We know our place in this hierarchy deemed Family.
~Risa del Mar
Showing posts with label blogging. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blogging. Show all posts
Aug 20, 2012
Aug 17, 2012
Love & Disease - Taking Care of You
This post was originally written December 16, 2008. At the time I posted it on my other Space and once I deleted the account I saved a lot of my posts because in many ways they perfectly captured what I was experiencing at the time. Today, four years later I find myself re-reading a lot of my old posts and have decided to repost them as I start to put pen to paper with new points of view that have occurred since this time...
Date: December 16, 2008
Love and Disease
When my father passed away he was 46 years old. He died of a heart attack. This was after a triple bypass surgery that he had had not long before the heart failure. When you look at photos of my father he looked healthy, was not overweight and for all intents and purposes was fine. Reality is that he worked two jobs and would come home from one only to go to the next. He did this because he wanted to provide for his family and give them more than they could imagine. What he failed to recognize is that what we (his children) needed was more time with him. I was four years old when he passed away and my siblings were ten, eleven and twelve years of age.
My mother passed away when she was 44 years old. This came only six years after my fathers passing. She was diabetic and had liver problems. My mother never drank in her life but the diabetes had affected her entire system. I remember many times having to give her her pills and feeding her on her bad days. I remember catching her eating things she was not supposed to and asking her why she was killing herself deliberately. I remember being angry with her because I knew that she didn't have much time left. I could see her deteriorating before me. I was ten when she passed away and my siblings were 16, 17 and 18 years old.
Through the years I have found through books that I read and people that I meet in passing that the only guarantee we have in this life is death. As I get older I think about my age and how I get closer to the age my mother was when she was at her worst right before dying. I see my sister now 40 years old and how she worries about her kids and wants to make sure she is there for them. I talked to her the other day about how many things she is doing different. The main thing is that she is healthy and that times are different. Science and technology have made strides and improvements for both sets of diseases and although we are all at risk there are very real possibilities if we just take care of ourselves.
So on the other side of the token when I see people that have their whole lives ahead of them and deliberately throw it away by not taking care of themselves it makes me feel a bit resentful. I know I shouldn't feel that way but I do. I had gone out with someone not too long ago that shared with me as a right of passage I imagine that he was diabetic. As I looked at him he asked me if this was the part when I started to take care of him. I looked at him angry because I knew that for him he had a choice but he was choosing death every minute of every day that he would not eat the right foods or ingested the sugar that he ate daily. So I ended up walking away knowing in my heart what I wanted to say was No. This is the part where I walk away and you start loving yourself enough to take care of your own life. I've been down this path before and I refuse to go down that same path because someone doesn't care enough about themself to make the right choice.
So as the year comes to an end, nostalgia always sets in and my hope is that those of you out there love yourself enough to make the right choices if you have them to make. That you look at ailing parents with love and realize that there are many of us that would love to have just one more day with them. That if you have kids you choose to spend some time with them rather than putting in those extra hours at your job. That you take a moment to remember that every day you have is a gift and you get to choose what to do with this gift that you are given.
Date: December 16, 2008
Love and Disease
When my father passed away he was 46 years old. He died of a heart attack. This was after a triple bypass surgery that he had had not long before the heart failure. When you look at photos of my father he looked healthy, was not overweight and for all intents and purposes was fine. Reality is that he worked two jobs and would come home from one only to go to the next. He did this because he wanted to provide for his family and give them more than they could imagine. What he failed to recognize is that what we (his children) needed was more time with him. I was four years old when he passed away and my siblings were ten, eleven and twelve years of age.
My mother passed away when she was 44 years old. This came only six years after my fathers passing. She was diabetic and had liver problems. My mother never drank in her life but the diabetes had affected her entire system. I remember many times having to give her her pills and feeding her on her bad days. I remember catching her eating things she was not supposed to and asking her why she was killing herself deliberately. I remember being angry with her because I knew that she didn't have much time left. I could see her deteriorating before me. I was ten when she passed away and my siblings were 16, 17 and 18 years old.
Through the years I have found through books that I read and people that I meet in passing that the only guarantee we have in this life is death. As I get older I think about my age and how I get closer to the age my mother was when she was at her worst right before dying. I see my sister now 40 years old and how she worries about her kids and wants to make sure she is there for them. I talked to her the other day about how many things she is doing different. The main thing is that she is healthy and that times are different. Science and technology have made strides and improvements for both sets of diseases and although we are all at risk there are very real possibilities if we just take care of ourselves.
So on the other side of the token when I see people that have their whole lives ahead of them and deliberately throw it away by not taking care of themselves it makes me feel a bit resentful. I know I shouldn't feel that way but I do. I had gone out with someone not too long ago that shared with me as a right of passage I imagine that he was diabetic. As I looked at him he asked me if this was the part when I started to take care of him. I looked at him angry because I knew that for him he had a choice but he was choosing death every minute of every day that he would not eat the right foods or ingested the sugar that he ate daily. So I ended up walking away knowing in my heart what I wanted to say was No. This is the part where I walk away and you start loving yourself enough to take care of your own life. I've been down this path before and I refuse to go down that same path because someone doesn't care enough about themself to make the right choice.
So as the year comes to an end, nostalgia always sets in and my hope is that those of you out there love yourself enough to make the right choices if you have them to make. That you look at ailing parents with love and realize that there are many of us that would love to have just one more day with them. That if you have kids you choose to spend some time with them rather than putting in those extra hours at your job. That you take a moment to remember that every day you have is a gift and you get to choose what to do with this gift that you are given.
Jul 11, 2009
Onyx & Zoe aka The Mutts that I Love
I had been wanting a little dog for some time. When I was about nine years old I was given a full-bred Pomeranian that we named Roddy (after the wrestler Rowdy Roddy Piper..lol) that lasted a total of two days because he was stolen from my yard. Then when I was 17 I was given a full-bred miniature Poodle that I named Whiskey after my Uncle's drink of choice. Whiskey lasted a few years but he was more my brother's dog than mine since he had Angus (a Pitbull/Lab mix) and Lucas (a Rottweiller/Pitbull mix) and they all lived in the same doghouse. Whiskey ended up getting stolen too by this crazy old lady who lived down the street and basically refused to let us go in her yard and get our dog.
When I wanted to get a dog recently my brother was advocating against it saying that he would end up taking care of it. He would go to my sister's house and tell her that he didn't want me to get a dog and my sister asked him, "Since when do you take care of anything Marissa does and why do you think she will listen to you?" It makes me laugh because it's true.
In March of '07 I had called Mexico to talk to my Uncle and Aunt to see how they were doing and to check when they'd be back. My Aunt proceeds to tell me how the dog down the street had puppies and that they wanted to bring one home with them since my brother's dog Erin had recently died. I told my aunt that there were plenty of dogs in need of homes here and that we didn't need to import one from Mexico. The Mexican dog would have been perfect in theory though because I had always wanted to name my dog Frijolito ("Little Bean" in Spanish). My family came home in April but we didn't talk about it again. I did happen to mention to my brother though that I still wanted a dog and my aunt wanted one too so it was inevitable. He just said, "I don't want anymore dogs."
I had asked a friend advice on what kind of dog I should get and he suggested a terrier because it would be the smartest dog I could own and it would keep all the other dogs in check. So I started researching different types of terrier dogs to figure out which would be best for me.
In May of '07 I went to a baptism and ended up coming home with a bunny. I felt bad that it didn't have a home so I figured that I would have a bunny instead of a dog and I named it Chatita because her fur color looked like Horchata. While I was driving home my brother calls me to ask if I still wanted a dog. I told him I did and he said that he had a dog for me. So I asked him what the dog looked like. He said, "Who cares what it looks like, it's small and you said you wanted a small dog." So I told him, "Yes but I had a specific type of dog in mind." He then proceeds to tell me the story of this little dog that was being used as bait for Pitbull fights and that the little dog kept escaping from a yard somewhere in Rialto and that it was going to be taken to a pound because it wouldn't stay... So I said, "okay let's save this dog." I now had to figure out what to do with the bunny...
My brothers brought the dog home and when I looked at him I just fell in love with him. He was extremely hyper but loveable. He didn't look like a Frijolito. He was black and white and seemed to be some kind of a Spaniel mix. I thought what we could name him and so we started saying names out loud. My brother said hey what about Onyx and it clicked.
I had been studying gemstones for work and I remembered that Onyx is a gemstone that was naturally mainly black with some white veins. Some believe that gemstones have healing properties and Onyx is believed to foster inner truth, understanding, confidence and friendship. It's supposed to help relieve stress and give balance. What a great name for a little dog that has brought me more joy than I could have imagined and has helped in relieving some of the stressors that I had in my life.
It's taken some time to get Onyx to not jump over the fence in hopes of escaping. At his small stature (he weighs 17 lbs) he can still jump about 5 feet or so.
After a few months of having Onyx I was getting busier with work and I was trying to decide to move closer to work or not. If I moved, I would have to give up my dog to live in an apartment and I couldn't see myself without my little dog. So I decided to stay where I was and not move.
In February of this year my co-worker had mentioned that she had a little doxie that she needed to find a home for. I wanted to help so I asked around and when I mentioned it to my brother he suggested that maybe I should keep the dog. I went to visit my friend first to see how this dog would behave and I fell in love with her forceful personality immediatelyl so I had to bring her home. She's a long haired full-bred miniature dachshund and her name is Zoe.
Now Zoe has a very determined personality. She needs a lot attention and has a one track mind of playing 24/7. She is crate trained and house trained too so that made the addition all the easier.
At first Onyx was jealous. He wouldn't let Zoe near me and he wouldn't let her play with her toys. Zoe would bring the ball and want to play and Onyx would steal it and run away.
Since then they've made their peace and get along just fine. They are absolutely the best dogs ever and they appeal to my personality in different ways. Onyx is loving and cuddly and loves to just sit next to me while Zoe is active and wants to play all the time. She will bring her toy and put it next to you and sit while you throw it. If you take too long she'll nudge you with her nose. If you don't pay attention to her she'll nudge you again. I've been training her lately to put her own toys away and she does it most of the time. Meanwhile Onyx has now learned to leave his toys for you to throw.
The best part has been that I can see my Uncle and Aunt play with them as well. None of the dogs that we've had other than Angus have been allowed inside their house. My two pups are there usually with my uncle while he watches TV and when I ask him about it he'll tell me that they looked bored so he brought them in or my aunt will say that they wanted to play so she opened the gate for them to come next door. My Uncle will come over to cut the lawn in my yard and he'll complain that Zoe kept putting her toys on the lawnmower. Onyx will go to my aunt and race around inside the house before running outside again. He'll then jump on my brother's Bullmastiff Simon and then run back for safety inside my yard.
Onyx stealing toys from Zoe:
Zoe when I smuggled her into the office:
When I wanted to get a dog recently my brother was advocating against it saying that he would end up taking care of it. He would go to my sister's house and tell her that he didn't want me to get a dog and my sister asked him, "Since when do you take care of anything Marissa does and why do you think she will listen to you?" It makes me laugh because it's true.
In March of '07 I had called Mexico to talk to my Uncle and Aunt to see how they were doing and to check when they'd be back. My Aunt proceeds to tell me how the dog down the street had puppies and that they wanted to bring one home with them since my brother's dog Erin had recently died. I told my aunt that there were plenty of dogs in need of homes here and that we didn't need to import one from Mexico. The Mexican dog would have been perfect in theory though because I had always wanted to name my dog Frijolito ("Little Bean" in Spanish). My family came home in April but we didn't talk about it again. I did happen to mention to my brother though that I still wanted a dog and my aunt wanted one too so it was inevitable. He just said, "I don't want anymore dogs."
I had asked a friend advice on what kind of dog I should get and he suggested a terrier because it would be the smartest dog I could own and it would keep all the other dogs in check. So I started researching different types of terrier dogs to figure out which would be best for me.
In May of '07 I went to a baptism and ended up coming home with a bunny. I felt bad that it didn't have a home so I figured that I would have a bunny instead of a dog and I named it Chatita because her fur color looked like Horchata. While I was driving home my brother calls me to ask if I still wanted a dog. I told him I did and he said that he had a dog for me. So I asked him what the dog looked like. He said, "Who cares what it looks like, it's small and you said you wanted a small dog." So I told him, "Yes but I had a specific type of dog in mind." He then proceeds to tell me the story of this little dog that was being used as bait for Pitbull fights and that the little dog kept escaping from a yard somewhere in Rialto and that it was going to be taken to a pound because it wouldn't stay... So I said, "okay let's save this dog." I now had to figure out what to do with the bunny...
My brothers brought the dog home and when I looked at him I just fell in love with him. He was extremely hyper but loveable. He didn't look like a Frijolito. He was black and white and seemed to be some kind of a Spaniel mix. I thought what we could name him and so we started saying names out loud. My brother said hey what about Onyx and it clicked.
I had been studying gemstones for work and I remembered that Onyx is a gemstone that was naturally mainly black with some white veins. Some believe that gemstones have healing properties and Onyx is believed to foster inner truth, understanding, confidence and friendship. It's supposed to help relieve stress and give balance. What a great name for a little dog that has brought me more joy than I could have imagined and has helped in relieving some of the stressors that I had in my life.
It's taken some time to get Onyx to not jump over the fence in hopes of escaping. At his small stature (he weighs 17 lbs) he can still jump about 5 feet or so.
After a few months of having Onyx I was getting busier with work and I was trying to decide to move closer to work or not. If I moved, I would have to give up my dog to live in an apartment and I couldn't see myself without my little dog. So I decided to stay where I was and not move.
In February of this year my co-worker had mentioned that she had a little doxie that she needed to find a home for. I wanted to help so I asked around and when I mentioned it to my brother he suggested that maybe I should keep the dog. I went to visit my friend first to see how this dog would behave and I fell in love with her forceful personality immediatelyl so I had to bring her home. She's a long haired full-bred miniature dachshund and her name is Zoe.
Now Zoe has a very determined personality. She needs a lot attention and has a one track mind of playing 24/7. She is crate trained and house trained too so that made the addition all the easier.
At first Onyx was jealous. He wouldn't let Zoe near me and he wouldn't let her play with her toys. Zoe would bring the ball and want to play and Onyx would steal it and run away.
Since then they've made their peace and get along just fine. They are absolutely the best dogs ever and they appeal to my personality in different ways. Onyx is loving and cuddly and loves to just sit next to me while Zoe is active and wants to play all the time. She will bring her toy and put it next to you and sit while you throw it. If you take too long she'll nudge you with her nose. If you don't pay attention to her she'll nudge you again. I've been training her lately to put her own toys away and she does it most of the time. Meanwhile Onyx has now learned to leave his toys for you to throw.
The best part has been that I can see my Uncle and Aunt play with them as well. None of the dogs that we've had other than Angus have been allowed inside their house. My two pups are there usually with my uncle while he watches TV and when I ask him about it he'll tell me that they looked bored so he brought them in or my aunt will say that they wanted to play so she opened the gate for them to come next door. My Uncle will come over to cut the lawn in my yard and he'll complain that Zoe kept putting her toys on the lawnmower. Onyx will go to my aunt and race around inside the house before running outside again. He'll then jump on my brother's Bullmastiff Simon and then run back for safety inside my yard.
Onyx stealing toys from Zoe:
Zoe when I smuggled her into the office:
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