My surgeon, Dr. G, came to visit me on Sunday, and I nearly begged him to let me go home. He asked about my support system, and I assured him that both my mom and JJ would be there to assist. So, my discharge date was made official- I would be going home one day before planned. Now, in order to do the French Press story any justice, I have to start at an earlier date.
After picking my mom up from the airport, she requested to go to an organic food market so she could stock up given that she is very particular about what goes in her body. I figured she’d make such a request so I was prepared with an errand I could run while she shopped. I reminded her to hurry, however, as we needed to meet JJ for lunch before I headed off to see 5 clients in my private practice. After 50 min of shopping, I picked my mom up and she then asked if we could stop by a Starbucks or Target to get a French press. I told her we didn’t have time for that if we wanted to have lunch before I needed to leave for work. She wasn’t happy about not being able to obtain a French press before we all left for the hospital the following morning at 6am, but she let it slide (or so I thought).
The next morning at the hospital, JJ and I continued to hear about how she wanted to get to Starbucks or Target to get a French press. I pretty much ignored her, as did JJ, until I was being wheeled into major surgery, at which point she stated that she could hopefully obtain her French press today. That’s when I lost it on her. Luckily for her, she did not bring up that damn French press for my remaining hospital stay.
So, back to my discharge date- we first stopped at one CVS to fill my prescription but they didn’t have it on hand. After they called 3 other pharmacies, they finally located one that could fill my prescription. After getting it filled, my mom asked if there was a Starbucks nearby, as she wanted to get…..How did you guess it? A French fucking press!!!! I told her there wasn’t any Starbucks nearby, but that a block away there was one coffee shop we could try. Unfortunately for all of us, the coffee shop was closed. I told JJ that Target was our next best option, but noted that I didn’t feel well and wanted to get home. My mom then announced, “We have the whole day to do whatever we want.” JJ and I exchanged incredulous stares before I told him to just go to fucking Target so we could finally stop hearing about this damn French press. As we waited for her in the car, we couldn’t help but wonder how this woman could be so selfish.
When I told my therapist this story, he asked if my mother has always been so narcissistic, to which I replied, “No, but she has become more and more so in recent years.” He then asked if she made me coffee in the press or whether it was for her use only. I told him that she did in fact make me coffee on multiple occasions during her 2 week stay, but I remained confused as to why she needed a press when we had a perfectly good coffee maker. He finally noted, in a half-joking manner, that if my blog ever became a book, at least I had my title. I couldn’t help but smile at that comment because it would, in fact, make for a great book title.