Longest Day Ever

Longest Day Ever

My sister wanted to see my father by T so I went along with her because I haven’t seen him in a few days. I also wanted to be there to see if I could see the social worker and the accounts person to ask questions about my father’s stay. The regular social worker was on vacation so I met with his covering one. She was nice and gave me the information that I needed. She also gave me the number for his doctor who I have to call to find out about his prognosis and other medical issues he is having.

My father didn’t look good. He was barely able to speak he was so weak. We were able to get him in a wheelchair and bring him outside for a little bit. He was really tired afterwards. My sister and I decided to catch the bus back home and that is when the longest day started. We waited over an hour for the bus. I was standing most of the way. My leg is killing me and so are my feet. We then decided to walk toward Mass Ave to catch the bus. That turned into a forty-five minute drive. I was so tired that I tried to sleep most of the way. But no, that wasn’t going to happen.

After we reached home, we had to go to the wake. I was already dressed up for it though I thought I would have time to change into a plain white T-shirt instead of my Cauda Equina one. Nope, no time. Had to rush to the funeral home. It was sad. There was even more standing at the home because the guy was young and there were a lot of people at the wake. No sitting for me. My leg already was hurting and I wish I brought some pain pills. By the end of the wake, I wished I was the one in the casket and my friend’s husband was alive.

in another writing mood

I have been thinking of cancelling my appointment with my psychiatrist because I don’t want to bother her but I know that if I do, it will only worry her. She is trusting me a great deal by not sending me in the hospital. I hope I don’t let her down. I just wish I didn’t feel like such a burden to her. I also feel like I am bothering her too much by emailing her my pathetically sad life story.

My father is getting weaker as we speak. I haven’t seen him since Thursday night. I am going to try and see him tomorrow but the marathon is running so I am not sure I can go. My sister goofed up the babysitting schedule. I am to watch the little one on Tuesday. I should have gone in the hospital. But I have to be available for the idiot social worker to call me.

I am feeling very exhausted and over tired. I feel safe but I don’t. I liked it better when I was in the hospital ER waiting for the psychiatrist. Least then I didn’t have a care in the world. I could just focus on me getting better. But now I am home and I am feeling slightly suicidal and like I am in a mixed state because my brain is on fire and I have to get these words out before they burn a hole in my brain.

My father is dying and I have no clue how to deal with it. How do you deal with a dying parent? No one prepares you for this. Yes it is apart of life, but how can someone that was so mean to you and now that you don’t give a damn suddenly mean something to you? I am not saying he is my buddy, far from it. But I feel so helpless that there is nothing I can do to hasten or lessen the process of him dying. This is so hard for me to comprehend. Not seeing him the last few days have helped considerably for me to “forget” about him, like he isn’t a part of my life. But how will I feel when he is gone? Will it still feel like I “forgot” about him? Will it be like “out of sight, out of mind” kind of thing? Except, when he goes, it will be forever. I won’t be able to pick up the phone and call him. Or swing by his house to do his meds.

My sister placed another task on my growing list of things to talk to the social worker about. I also need to talk to patient accounts and see when my father will run out of his insurance. I really hope he dies before he runs out. But my feeling is that it won’t happen. He is just too stubborn to die. I hate him for being stubborn. I don’t know why I care. He is my father. But to me he is a sperm donor for that was all he was good for. I have been thinking about what to write for the eulogy and all I can say is that he was a good dresser. That was all he cared about was looking good. He had no other endearing qualities. He only cared about himself. Hence why there is no will and testament. He isn’t going to leave us with nothing but his fancy clothes. Some legacy.

My Sunday Continues

With the help of my psychiatrist, I was able to avoid being in the hospital for a few days. If I didn’t have commitments over the next few days, I would have gone in. She was talking about short term hospitalization (most hospitalizations are) but I couldn’t do it knowing that I had to babysit tomorrow. There would be no one to watch my niece and I would feel bad.

I haven’t eaten anything all day except for some melon. I am hungry but I’m not. I really just want an Ensure and go to bed. I have a splitting headache. Two ladies in front of me were singing and humming and were so damn off key it was pathetic. It rang through my head like nails on a chalkboard. Then there was a teen that was vomiting. I tried not to listen and he was a quiet vomiter so I didn’t get sick. Eight hours after being there, I finally saw the psychiatrist. She really wanted me inpatient and I think she had her heart set on it but I didn’t. I wasn’t in a suicidal state. I just needed an understanding ear, which I got with the doc. I know I could have paged my psychiatrist and talked but I really wanted to be in an environment that wasn’t my room. And believe me it was tempting to say yes but I had to decline. I do have to see my psychiatrist on Wed. I feel really bad now because she said she had a jam packed schedule. I know it’s the depression talking. I really understand her worry for me but I think I am okay now. I spent eight hours in an ER that was for me, though I had memories of being with my father there. In fact, I was across from the bay where my father was where I poked him after he wanted to leave AMA the last time he was there.

The place was busy as is usual for an academic hospital center. I swear more people were piling in as the hours went on than when I first came to the area I was. It was all open so you could hear all the talk. This one had a kidney stone, that one had an infection, some were psych patients waiting to be admitted. I found out one psych patient on Friday had pulled the sprinkler off and flooded the psych ER. That was why they were in a different area and more security was around. I think it was funny as the nurses were describing it but it isn’t really. Now the psych patients are in with the general ER and it can be quite disturbing.

I was glad that I was discharged after seeing the attending psychiatrist. It was quick and I was happy. The nurse gave me a ginger ale as I requested some juice or something as I could feel my own blood sugar plummet. I was starting to get the shakes and I feared I would get a dizzy spell. That would be all I needed was to pass out in the ER after I said I was okay to go home.

Now I got to fill in my pill box for the week. I still have my bag packed in case I go in next week. I think my father might have just a week or so left in him from what I hear from my sister. He really is deteriorating quickly. I feel so bad and sad. But it would really kill me if he died while I am in the hospital. I know that I need to be there to take care of myself but I have to put myself aside for the moment.

Saturday Blog 47

Saturday Blog 47

I have been feeling uneasy all day. I have been contemplating going to the ER for an eval, just for shits and giggles. But seriously, I just want to talk to someone neutral about what is going on and if I truly need to be in the hospital or just continue struggling as an outpatient. I was so torn that I decided to use a crisis hotline text chat to see if they could help. They gave me a support website for groups. I will check it out later. I felt better about talking with them about my father dying and it being hard to deal with. I also been talking about my suicidal urges that have been cropping up the last 24 hours. I just feel like I have to do something and I don’t know what that something is. Waiting for my father to die is not something I am looking forward to. I know it is going to happen but dammit. If I had a time frame, that would be fucking great. Like say he is going to die on x day at this time, then I can plan my hospitalization around that and things would be better. But life doesn’t work like that. I don’t even think my father knows he is dying because he is trying so hard to make it so he can go home. I don’t think he is going to go home, unless he doesn’t get state health care because we can’t afford to keep him in the nursing home at around $100/day.

I got some more Ensure because I was out. I still am not eating regularly. Coffee was my breakfast and a muffin with some fruit was my lunch. I have no idea if I am going to eat dinner. I have no appetite so an Ensure might be my dinner.

I don’t think my sister is going to visit my father today. She is already out and about doing things. She might be too tired to go. I don’t mind not going. I really find it hard seeing my father the way he is. Because his liver is damaged and is continuing to be, his body is producing ammonia more than usual. This is making him confused and sleepy. And he isn’t taking the medication used to bring the ammonia levels down because it’s a thick fluid and I think it tastes gross for him. I don’t know what it tastes like as I don’t have liver problems. Least I hope I never do.

The hard part for me is that I don’t think anybody has told my father that he is dying. I know my sisters haven’t told him and I am sure no medical professional has either. And what kills me is that they are giving him PT and OT to help him go back home when he is getting weaker and weaker. How is he supposed to go home when he is at risk for falling? Just getting him to the bathroom the other day was an ordeal. He almost fell backwards because he lost his balance while pulling up his pants. I just don’t get it. Then he was too tired to do anything else when we got him back to bed. Just changing him to his pajamas was tiring for him. And I think I am tired after taking a shower. The poor guy was ready to pass out he was so exhausted. It really killed me seeing him like this. And I know that it’s only going to get worse with time.

Because of his weakness and fatigue, I don’t think he will be a candidate for surgery for his other problem that he so desperately wants to take care of. And I think he might be dead before the appointment happens. I think I am the only one being the realist in the family about this. Sure we have made plans with the funeral home for his death but since we aren’t sure when he is going to die, it’s just putting more of a burden on us than we realize.

In the meantime, I am struggling with the black dog and suicidal feelings left and right. I know I should be in the hospital if anything for self-care, but I can’t take a chance that my father will die while I am there and it will just break my heart for that to happen. I want to be there when he dies, though I am still hoping he dies in his sleep.