Not sure if anyone remembers, but about two years ago (the anniversary is coming up in June) my dad was in a horrible motorcycle accident. He broke a lot of bones, shattered his pelvis, punctured his bladder and a kidney, and lost an eye due to a staph infection that he is trying to sue the rehab place for because they didn't properly take care of him. His body healed horribly, and he can barely hold himself up to walk; he told me last night he couldn't even make it to the bathroom, so he just sat in his own urine, because he couldn't do anything else. His medicare won't even cover an MRI on his knee and hip, which are both bad enough that he can't stand without falling and further injuring himself, so he has to wait for someone to take him to the VA hospital because they're the only ones that will see him, he can't afford anything else and he's been trying to find a way to get there for days, and has been waiting on an MRI for months.
I talked to him this morning, he said some days he doesn't want to live. I called him because last night I sat up for about four hours just crying, I just felt like something was wrong. I feel bad, but sometimes I avoid calling him, and I know I do it because I just know when I talk to him and ask him how things are going, he will let me know something else is wrong. He tells me not to worry but how can I not? If he wanted to go, he has way more than enough narcotics to do it. My mom says she doesn't think he will, and that it's just something he's going through and not to worry, but it's hard. I don't think he'll do it either, I think he's stronger than that, but what do I really know? I can't tell what he's thinking or feeling beyond what I can hear in his voice and what he tells me. And I can't blame him. He can't do the things he used to do. Motorcycles were his life; it might sound terrible but it it never bothered me when he put his love of motorcycles on level with his love for me, I never saw an issue with it and I don't feel I suffered for it despite what my grandmother tries to tell me (I don't talk to her often because I hate hearing her talk like my dad brought this on himself, as if he deserved it and how he should've been a better father...why would you say something like that to me?
)
I worry that he won't have anyone to take care of him. That maybe I made a mistake in not going home. It makes me feel like a crappy daughter that I'm not there taking care of him. We're supposed to take care of our parents, right? He can't move here, and as bad as it sounds, and as much as I love and miss him and wish I could take care of him, I know that if I went back to do it, I'd have NO clue as to what to do. I hate admitting this, but I know it wouldn't make me happy to go back there. Other than my family, I hate everything about that place. I have no one there but family, and I know that might sound bad, but I am able to admit to myself that I am no caregiver, and at least with my uncle with him, if he falls someone can pick him up. What would I do if he fell? I'm 110 pounds, there's no way I can lift him up, and when he falls, it is just dead weight, he can't lift himself up, he doesn't have the strength and his muscles are deteriorating rapidly.
And I feel like it's wrong to say that leaving Ryan behind would kill me. He's been the one thing in my life in the past few years that's really made me feel happy and I'd hate to lose that to distance again. I'm not sure it would work out.
To top it all off, my mom is going through a horrible bought of agoraphobia and depression. She's battled this her whole life, but it's affecting her marriage. She doesn't want to go out for their anniversary. My stepdad wants to take her to Hawaii with him, and she won't go. She won't shower, or get out of bed. She left the house a few days ago to get groceries and pick up dinner from somewhere because she can't even bring herself to cook, something she LOVES to do. She has to force herself to do her favourite thing now. She tells me not to worry about her but I'm just full of worry, so I do.
I can't focus on anything I need to get done to stay here and get myself to working status and get my healthcare taken care of. I don't think about hardly anything else, and I don't go anywhere or do anything hardly at all, and if I do it's never by myself because I go into panic mode a lot of times when I leave the apartment on my own. I don't know why it's so bad lately. I'm scared to be alone because it's when I find out the worst news. I was alone when I found out about my dad's accident; I don't remember much of that day because as soon as I found out, I took valium to calm me down and I guess I just kept taking it (at the time my dad was put into a coma because he was so bad that if he actually were awake, there wouldn't have been anything they could've done for his pain, and they did expect him to die). I was in a valium-induced stupor for a few days, none of which I remember other than crying.
Ugh, sorry. This was a novel. I just needed to get it out.
If you read all this, then :hail:.
I talked to him this morning, he said some days he doesn't want to live. I called him because last night I sat up for about four hours just crying, I just felt like something was wrong. I feel bad, but sometimes I avoid calling him, and I know I do it because I just know when I talk to him and ask him how things are going, he will let me know something else is wrong. He tells me not to worry but how can I not? If he wanted to go, he has way more than enough narcotics to do it. My mom says she doesn't think he will, and that it's just something he's going through and not to worry, but it's hard. I don't think he'll do it either, I think he's stronger than that, but what do I really know? I can't tell what he's thinking or feeling beyond what I can hear in his voice and what he tells me. And I can't blame him. He can't do the things he used to do. Motorcycles were his life; it might sound terrible but it it never bothered me when he put his love of motorcycles on level with his love for me, I never saw an issue with it and I don't feel I suffered for it despite what my grandmother tries to tell me (I don't talk to her often because I hate hearing her talk like my dad brought this on himself, as if he deserved it and how he should've been a better father...why would you say something like that to me?
)I worry that he won't have anyone to take care of him. That maybe I made a mistake in not going home. It makes me feel like a crappy daughter that I'm not there taking care of him. We're supposed to take care of our parents, right? He can't move here, and as bad as it sounds, and as much as I love and miss him and wish I could take care of him, I know that if I went back to do it, I'd have NO clue as to what to do. I hate admitting this, but I know it wouldn't make me happy to go back there. Other than my family, I hate everything about that place. I have no one there but family, and I know that might sound bad, but I am able to admit to myself that I am no caregiver, and at least with my uncle with him, if he falls someone can pick him up. What would I do if he fell? I'm 110 pounds, there's no way I can lift him up, and when he falls, it is just dead weight, he can't lift himself up, he doesn't have the strength and his muscles are deteriorating rapidly.
And I feel like it's wrong to say that leaving Ryan behind would kill me. He's been the one thing in my life in the past few years that's really made me feel happy and I'd hate to lose that to distance again. I'm not sure it would work out.
To top it all off, my mom is going through a horrible bought of agoraphobia and depression. She's battled this her whole life, but it's affecting her marriage. She doesn't want to go out for their anniversary. My stepdad wants to take her to Hawaii with him, and she won't go. She won't shower, or get out of bed. She left the house a few days ago to get groceries and pick up dinner from somewhere because she can't even bring herself to cook, something she LOVES to do. She has to force herself to do her favourite thing now. She tells me not to worry about her but I'm just full of worry, so I do.
I can't focus on anything I need to get done to stay here and get myself to working status and get my healthcare taken care of. I don't think about hardly anything else, and I don't go anywhere or do anything hardly at all, and if I do it's never by myself because I go into panic mode a lot of times when I leave the apartment on my own. I don't know why it's so bad lately. I'm scared to be alone because it's when I find out the worst news. I was alone when I found out about my dad's accident; I don't remember much of that day because as soon as I found out, I took valium to calm me down and I guess I just kept taking it (at the time my dad was put into a coma because he was so bad that if he actually were awake, there wouldn't have been anything they could've done for his pain, and they did expect him to die). I was in a valium-induced stupor for a few days, none of which I remember other than crying.
Ugh, sorry. This was a novel. I just needed to get it out.
If you read all this, then :hail:.
