My mother took a stroke back in the heat of August, refusing to drink enough fluid. She always had that ugly habit of resisting my advice, tooth and nail. Of course, to further complicate things, my pleas to the village doctor's office for a paramedic, were not given all due urgency- and that despite my thorough description of the symptoms. At least the red cross came in due course and we rushed her off to the stroke unit. Thus doctors were able to dissolve the blood clot within ample time for a full recovery. However, given the old brain damage from the impact of a 20 meter fall in 1953 they decided against putting her into an artificial coma (as is procedure for the body to process the neurological effects of recovery)- rather, put her under heavy sedation and restraint for 24 hours with my brother's permission. He also confirmed the information I gave on her disabilities. The rest was pretty self-evident in the scans and her response to the treatment. Needless to say, the doctors had never seen anything like it. She made such a speedy recovery though, that they had trouble keeping her in bed, thus continued to sedate her. I had a job interview that day when they resolved to transfer her to the psychiatric hospital in Emmendingen some 40 kilometers away for the standard three to four weeks rehab. "We need you to go with her and talk to the staff there" they said. "Oh joy", I thought, as it was the hottest day of the year, and would undoubtly have to wing it to the train station on foot afterwards to make it back in time for my appointment. Indeed, what an arduous trip that was, and I had to keep watch over her as the ambulance driver had to wait 3/4 at the reception there for them to process her transfer forms. Fortunately the staff in the ward she was admitted to were friendly and most accomodating so I was able to get back to Lahr in time. Well, as if I didn't have enough trouble, that job interview turned out to be a come on. It was clear they had already picked their lot, but under quite different conditions than the agreement they made with the local "Kommunale Arbeitsförderung". Now I am familiar with the trick questions that time-share agencies use to profile their applicants, but this verged on the totally ridiculous. This girl couldn't have been older than 20, and went through her questions like an automaton fresh out of business school. She looked through my CV and said "Oh you're a Canadian" even though it clearly read "German" then comes out with- "where in Canada do you come from?" "Sorry", I replied politely, "but there is no one place in Canada that I come from, and I've been living in Germany now for 40 years". As I suspected, this was not the answer she wanted, rather, like most of these deluded Lahrers, take Canada for some promise land they can't imagine why anyone would leave. Just how do you explain to such twits that thanks to your mother coming from the east zone you've been treated like some stateless persona ungrata for years- not to mention all the secret government agencies that try to fuck you over for what you'll never know why. Then came the stupid question: "What would be your dream job?" I damn near fell out of my chair. This is a question you ask a young apprentice and not someone 55 with decades of professional trade experience. Others I talked to who the Komunale had also submitted, were in no way received like this and assured me they would have been just as gobsmacked by such impertinent questions. Through them I found out these buggers were lying about providing us a steady workplace without need of a car- rather, as I suspected, looking for temps they could send anywhere on the spur of the moment. "Springers" as is usually the case with such time-sharing outfits, and given the inadequate public transport where I lived, naturally ruled me out. So, in essence the interview was only insofar as to convince the Komunale that they "reviewed" all applicants. Nonetheless, my sympathy goes out to my classmate who did get hired by this lot. Everyone's suspicions were confirmed when Acromed phoned her up just two days before the end of the course, asking when she could come as they needed a springer. She is not a happy camper, to say the least, but better her than me.
Well, after getting all that behind me, I get this letter from the medical insurance asking about the alleged "accident" from which my mother sustained the head injuries and subsequent dementia. With it they included a standard form, for which the most part would have required a crystal ball to fill out. Heh, that all happened in Hameln back in 1953, a year before I was born. She scarcely has any recollection herself, rather, most of it I had to piece together from what her father and my father had told me over the years. She was working as a German state employee for the British stationed there. A job she got from her father, who was the town's employment director at the time. He was given the position as a rehabilitation for his 5 years incarceration in a nazi labour camp. At the time there were plenty of old nazis still malingering about, forever scheming to do away with the allied occupation in whatever devious little underhanded ways they could. Needless to say, they took it out on his daughter, with every intent of revenge. A mysterious phone call, luring her out to the gangway overlooking where the vehicles were being serviced. All she vaguely remembers was a forceful hand pushing her from behind as she looked down to see who was there. The town police had their suspicions and investigated the matter but could find no witnesses. It happened after hours and the building was empty.
After I filled out the form to the best of my knowledge and got my mother to sign it, I phoned the woman who sent the form and explained that if they want documentation they will either have to contact the civil archives in Hameln or Berlin. By all accounts records kept by the British forces stationed in Germany are also available in the Berlin archives and were meticulously kept. I just can't foot the cost of so much research. I guess that was enough, as I haven't heard from them since and all my requests have gone through without recourse. I have yet to locate the documents of my mother's involuntary service in the Luftwaffe. By all accounts, the Americans buggered off with all those records when the Soviets put up the Berlin wall and haven't returned them since. Frankly, it wouldn't surprise me if that was also party to my run-in with MK-Ultra. Just don't talk to me about örlog, I assure you I've had enough of it, thanks but no thanks.
