No Good Deed

 Hey Women,

I hope you are all alive and vaccinated and still wearing your masks.  Yes, I am all those things and I'm not going to pussyfoot around and pretend that it's ok to be otherwise.  Tired of it!  Yet, despite being tired of it, the virus is still here.  But, enough of that.  Moving on.

So, I just got back from another stint down at my friend's ranch.  Let me tell you about it.

First of all, my two besties and my daughter and I had planned a get together for July of 2020.  Obviously that was postponed.  But, now that we were all vaccinated we decided that it was time for our weekend meet up.  We can't do more than a weekend because Lisa needs dialysis 3 times per week, but a weekend was better than nothing and we were ready for some fun.

The Kid and I drove down to the Bay Area of California together.  Honestly, that was one of the highlights of the trip.  Ten hours in the car with my favorite person in the world!  She lives outside of Seattle, which isn't far from Portland, but we haven't seen each other much in the last 18 months.  Obvs.  So, the weekend started off very well.  She's an excellent travel companion.

We stayed with our friend KA for one night and then went to Capitola for a night at a B&B.  Great fun. Just being together with people that you love is a balm for the soul. We drove up the coast from Capitola to Half Moon Bay and it was glorious.  The fog was hanging over the ocean and it was cool and breezy.  The scenery is that of my childhood and the scents took me back.  Trips to the beach, camping in the woods, eating at quirky coastal restaurants.  It all came flooding back.

We spent another night at KA's house and then Lisa and the Kid had to fly home.  My plan had been to spend the second half of the week at the ranch, visiting the rancher and helping out with chores.  So much for planning, right?

During my weekend with the besties, I got a text from the rancher's friend that she was in the hospital. She's had various health issues over the years so it's not the first time she's landed in the ER.  This sounded like a bowel obstruction.  She's been having increasing difficulty eating and keeping food down but, like so many of us, she hates going to the doctor.

They diagnosed her with constipation and sent her home with laxatives.  As if she hadn't already tried that on her own.  The next day she was back at the hospital and this time was admitted and taken to surgery.  She has some sort of fibrous growth in part of her GI tract.  The surgeon tried removing it laparoscopically and ended up perforating her bowel.  Now she had an abdominal infection, pneumonia, and still a blocked pipe.  She's still in the hospital, two weeks later.  She's just graduated to semi-solid food and while she's keeping it down, nothing is coming out the other end.

Meanwhile, until I arrived at the ranch, a group of her local friends were taking turns feeding the 200 sheep.  I told them to stand down while I was there and they could draw up a new schedule when I had to return home.  I asked my pet sitter how long she could take care of my fine feline and she gave me an extra ten days or so.

So, I'm at the ranch, holding down the fort, wrestling bales of hay and endlessly refilling water troughs in temperatures over 100f.  That's ok.  I knew what I was in for and while I was tired and sore and sweaty I felt good about helping my friend.  

We've been friends for 50 years.  That's a long time. I know all her exes.  I know her whole family.  I've visited her mom in the care home.  I've spent weeks at the ranch helping out.  

Remember a few years ago when I went down and cleaned out the back room?  The hoard of vermin infested rubbish that I spent a couple of weeks sorting through and hauling to the dump trailer?  Remember how grateful she was that it was finally dealt with?  Turns out there's another chapter to that story.  

After I returned home, she and her friend took the load to the dump.  But, they didn't just dump it and go home.  They went through the entire load, opening up trash bags and sifting through boxes to make sure that I didn't throw away anything good.  They pulled out a 40 year old vacuum cleaner and the helper took it home.  Never mind that the rancher has three vacuums - that ancient, heavy, filthy one STILL WORKED!  Then, they tore the lining out of some suitcases and discovered that some dollar bills had been hidden inside.  OMG, SHE'S THROWING AWAY MONEY!

I don't know what all they pulled from the trailer and I don't want to know.  

I texted her not long after I arrived at the ranch to ask where the key to her bedroom was.  There was clean laundry to put away and I was trying to straighten up the living room.  She sent a text to her friend, who happened to be at the house with me at the time, saying 'Don't let her in my room!  I don't want her going through my stuff and throwing it out!'

Well, clearly I had underestimated her hoarding.  I had thought that the hoard in the backroom (and in the mom's room) was all the mom's doing.  Not so.  The hoarding appears to be a generational behavior.  She also hoards food.  Not in the way that you see on tv horror shows, she's not walking on a foot deep layer of spoiled food.  But, she shops at Costco and other bulk purchase places and buys like she's going to be under siege.  When I got to the house, there were boxes and bags of food to put away that were just piled on the kitchen floor.  I did a little purge of the pantry and threw away stuff that was clearly unhealthy to eat.  Rearranged a little in order to get the new groceries in.  I mean, does a household of one person 'need' 50 cans of beans?  There were 20 bags of chips in the house.  Cases of stuff, boxes full of stuff.  

When she sent that text saying to keep me out of her room, that hurt me.  I've only ever done work at the ranch that I was asked to do, asked to help out with.  She wanted the back room cleaned out.  Her mom's room was four feet deep everywhere except for a little square of space between the door and the bed.  It's useable now.  Oh, and the back room?  Not quite the disaster zone it had been previously but it is filling fast.

The real kick in the teeth is that she has told her ranch hand friend, her vet friend, and some young woman who just started working for her on an occasional basis that I had thrown away good stuff, that I was ruining things, that I had forced her to throw away valuable belongings and that I would try to keep doing it.  A lifetime friendship is what is being thrown away, and not by me.

I'm sorry to say that I called her in the hospital and told her that I was upset and that she had hurt me by saying these things.  I told her that I had never felt so unwelcome at anyone's home and especially hers. She said, 'I don't know what the ranch hand has told you but I...' and I said, no, don't blame him.  He's just telling the truth.  Plus, you've said these things to the vet and the youngster.  You've thrown me under the bus.  

I apologized for bringing it up while she was ill and in the hospital.  I said that we would talk about it when she got out and was feeling better.  

I went to see her at the hospital the next day and took the quilt that I had made for her.  She was apathetic about it.  I said, well, I usually get a more enthusiastic response when I give someone a handmade quilt, but I understand that you are sick.  I took it back to the house and left it on her bed.  (Because, yes, I did get the key to the bedroom, I did put her clean laundry in there, and no, I did not touch anything in her room, which has a pathway from the door to the bed.)

So, it's true what they say: No good deed goes unpunished.  I'm still angry and hurt but I'm gaining a little perspective.  I most certainly will not help her with cleaning out her hoard again.  And, I likely won't go back down to help with the sheep.  There are a lot of related issues that I haven't reported here but the bottom line for me is that I need to draw a boundary and enforce it.  I've been a good friend over the decades and in recent years I never counted the lack of reciprocity or the one-sided nature of our exchanges.  I mean, when your friend needs help, you help them, right?  I certainly wasn't keeping score.  But, then when they shit on you, you call a halt to the interaction.  

Now I am home and resting.  My body is aching from the back breaking work but my muscles are starting to ease up.  I'm still waking up at 5:00 am but hope to get to a more normal retired person schedule eventually.  I think I'll go take a walk and let the breeze carry some of my angst away.  Thanks for reading, women!