From my journal for March 2, 1997
I think I want to talk to Dr. Rankin about mother:
“of course you wouldn’t care about the Colonial Dames”
After Daddy’s funeral she was poisonous, I went to the minister, put her in God’s hands, next day she was sober.
4th of July — her anger at me for getting the nurses, the checkbook war.
Broken hip — I get the medication. She snarls “They weren’t going to bring it were they.” I say aren’t you going to thank me?
Making me call Mama Greene and tell her not to come.
Deciding not to tell her about my life — afraid she’ll feel abandoned
She’s fine, tells Jo “I’m so cheerful that she can’t be depressed.”Reunion in D.C. — I didn’t come because she was there.
Time with Phyllis when I scrambled to get away from the cushion.
Dr. Rankin is the one who helped me get on Imipramine and end the plane phobia. I’ve put links to each of the stories because I didn’t want to repeat them all in this post.