Seriously, where do I fall on the spectrum? @ 04:20 am
Honestly, I really cannot figure out if I am totally cut out for this whole eldercare (or really elder-paperwork-care) misadventure or of I am the last person on the planet that should be tending to these things.
Got the mailbox opened. Maybe not with 100% of the paperwork, but at least with 90% + 10% acceptable-in-the-right-eyes paperwork. (I didn’t work with the same person today as yesterday and I played on that like nobody’s business.) On that triumph, I got the phone shut off as well, even though I did not have the account number handy, even though I was told that it was like, seriously, totally required. (I *never* have the account number for the phone when I need it, cause CHRIST, I HAVE THE PHONE NUMBER!)
All this just makes me think it’s not about breaking the rules so much as working with people who don’t necessarily know what the rules are in the first place and who also think there is no reason you would lie to them in the first place. Not that I just go about lying to everyone I encounter, but I have found that there are a few places where mild deception helps grease the wheels.
I truly hate lying. I really do. My grandmother’s decline has taught me that sometimes you need to lie out your ass, and it’s kind of OK as long as it’s for the greater good and not hurting anyone. I remain truly unconvinced that I am not going to hell for it, but I get the necessity of it. Still don’t like it that much. Still don’t like that I am much better at fabricating pretty untruths now than I was this time 3 years ago.
And, here’s the rub: I have a Durable Power of Attorney! With pretty much every possible contingency signed off on by my grandmother! I have the legal authority to Get Shit Done. Given that she lives in God’s Waiting Room, you’d think the general populous would be more familiar with a DPOA, and yet… they all look like a deer in the headlights when I whip it out and try to explain that Granny ain’t exactly in a traveling way, and I have the legal authority to tend to her various and sundry stuff, such as her mail, or bills, or whathaveyou , and she is not going to show up at their front door wielding fountain pen to sign off on whatever it is I have come to request. Because if she COULD come forth and harass them, she certainly wouldn’t in a million years need me to do it for her.
I’m still leaning towards wholly unqualified for this particular adventure.