Mama's Gastroenteritis

Mama had gastroenteritis. She’s called around today trying to find someone in the family to go get her a Coke and some soup. No big surprise that no one will. They’re all worthless. Oh, they’ll show up at your funeral wailing and gnashing their teeth (and curious about which of your possessions might be up for grabs). But they won’t visit or help you while you’re sick unless they’re absolutely convinced that you’re on your death bed.
I haven’t forgotten the time when Mama was in the hospital for a few days for a biopsy and because of an allergic reaction to the anesthesia. Not one of her loving relatives came to see her. I also haven’t forgotten the time Mama was having a severe asthma attack (which always terrified her) and my uncle dropped her off at the Emergency Room entrance and went home. Or when my aunt Loretta went into the hospital. None of the people who cared so much for her when she owned a restaurant and was free with her money came about until she went into the Intensive Care Unit. Boy, then the waiting room was full of relatives. But once there they all acted like it was just a family get-together. Nor have I forgotten that when she died I had to go sit in her room because some of the grieving family members were being rather obvious about walking around her room and mentally taking inventory. I still haven’t forgotten that someone asked, at the gravesite after the funeral, no less, what we were going to do with my aunt’s diamond rings.
So. It’s no big surprise that no one will go get Mama a Coke and some soup. She’s not close enough to death for anyone to go through the motions of giving a damn.

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