What a month. Or month & a half, anyway. Or longer.
One day I’m going to have inscribed on my tombstone:
“THAT was Interesting!”
This past month & a half my dad had an elective kind of surgery. Army provided, tho’ they did it at a civilian hospital.
He is in his mid-80’s, and plowed ahead despite recommendations that he not do this. Now he’s driving my mom (and ‘me’, a bit) crazy by behaving like a child. First he fires his physical therapist (because it was a “he” and a “him” and not some cute “she” he could use as some sort of eye-candy to motivate him).
Then he refuses to exercise at all. This after getting a new knee put in.
“It’s a lot tougher than it looks,” me and about a dozen other people told him, including some former knee surgery patients who’d gone through it before.
Now he’s like the little child saying: “I’m going to hold my breath until I turn blue! THAT’ll show you!”
And my mom, insane as hell to begin with . . .
I finally had to go over there and get all their guns. They were both armed to the teeth, plenty of ammunition.
In a way it reminds (reminded) me of the Cold War – each standing the other off, each unsure if the threat was to their own health or the other – and causing ill health all around.
And then, just to make things even more interesting, Facebook suspends my account. No reason given (this was several weeks ago; I’ve tried & tried to get in contact with them) – and they ALSO (apparently) dissolved the group I’d started for DID folks. Did the ol’ “History” thing on my browser and lo & behold several of the groups are gone. I wonder what’s happened to my 138 ‘friends’ or whatever. I’ve been ‘torn’ between going back on, starting over again: should I have a Facebook account? Somehow the idea of ‘starting over’ with a new name & whatall (tho’ I’d still have to use a variant of my Jeffsong name) would be a hassle. And from what I saw most folks are muddling on through like whatever. Don’t know as I made any difference; parts of me don’t care. “I’m done with that,” some of them are saying. Some are angry. Why didn’t Facebook tell me what went wrong?
But they are a private company so I guess they can do what they want. Most do.
So: I’m expecting my old man to be dying any day if my mom doesn’t kill him first. He refuses – and has always refused – to do anything ‘uncomfortable’ even if it will save his life. He has a low tolerance for pain – tho’ his beatings were what gave me mine. (wry smile: some benefits in everything.) When he was in the rehab place he only did the minimum – and griped about the pain. He pissed in his bed – why? Not because he couldn’t get up – he could, it just hurt his knee – and when asked why he said it was just easier to let it go. The nurses could clean it up.
Not at my mom’s place, tho’.
We’re working to get him committed before long; I expect him to go to the VA for his final life song – and knowing him, he’ll curl up in his room, fall asleep one day, and never wake up.
He’s a working point for euthanasia. So was my gram. And my mom supports it. And with this body I am sure I would have to come to my own kind of decision – it’s falling apart quick. And there’s others I know who look at pain, life, their tolerance for it – and some who have lived “long enough” in their words.
I once had an aunt hit 108; another 104. One had a working mind, the other a working body. They worked as a team. But the mind person (the older one – go figure!) told me she wished they were over a long time before they hit the nursing home. The other one (without a mind) was happy as a lark.
I’ve had a strange sort of family, thinking of it, looking around me. Not as strange as some; stranger than others, and totally dysfunctional in some ways – and in some ways social dysfunction (though I can blend in quite well). And now, looking at my unhappy parents and their unhappy lives – and they can only blame each other (Which they do all the time) and their selves (which they are too blind to see – sometimes). A mom who can’t be happy & be alive; a dad who is spiting (as in “to spite”) himself in the grave . . .
They’ve served as fine examples on what not to do. And if that’s not family, who else can teach you?