Let’s Talk About This…

I’ve been pretty silent lately. I haven’t felt like writing or much of anything, if I’m being honest. Ever since my Aunt Tammie committed suicide, I’ve been in a slump. 
Then there’s my father. He got out of the hospital on Feb. 3rd. I was still down in Tennessee helping deal with my Aunt’s affairs when he was released. By the time I came home he was pretty happy I’d made it back. I was pretty happy that he was back. 

I’m possibly going to sound completely as if all my empathetic ways have been torn from my soul; but I promise they have not been, nor am I about to give up. However, as of late my father has turned into yet another character I must walk on eggshells around. I’m completely feeling as if now I’m the one out of control at times. I can’t even make a damn salad.
Two months to the day he was released from the hospital I found myself sitting in a soft leather chair in front of my father’s new psychiatrist. Just that morning my father had decided to start talking. He’d apparently decided also that he’s ready to drive his Jeep three hours on the interstate. Next week my brother is flying in from California and dad wants his Jeep there so he can “run errands”. Errands for what? Not to be rude, but there’s absolutely no reason he needs his Jeep not to mention the danger this means. 
As I witness my father being unwilling to wear proper shoes around the house, come near to falling, have dizzy spells and shake his spoon as he’s trying to eat, I wonder. Wonder why he thinks he’s ready to go from 0-60 just like that. I spoke my mind about it prior to the appointment. Now in the appointment I stayed rather quiet until the end when I mentioned the driving. The psychiatrist agreed with me. This wasn’t fitting to my father’s liking. He asked if he could possibly be taken off some of his medicine. Here we go. Again and again like the revolving doors I always expect to malfunction and rip a toenail off.
Once we got home, I was met with questions of why I had moved him into my house. Why did I not think about mowing his yard, his income taxes, his homestead exemption, his this and that and this and that. For reason I am just not willing to delve into, I’m not going to explain why all of these questions are maddening other than saying… someone at one time in the past took advantage of my father. So badly in fact, that he doesn’t even own his home. That’s right… it’s not even his. So how is that my fault? 
Somehow I feel as if it’s all my fault. My father told me that he wants his independence back and he’s thinking he may just want to move back home. I told him that unfortunately that really blows for me considering I left my job to care for him. All he could say to me was he thought I was crazy for that and you know what, I guess I was. 
I responded by explaining to him how much better his life is with us. How his diabetes is under control, his cholesterol is back to normal, he eats healthy, we’ve sacrificed for him to be able to say those things. He shrugs and says he’s sorry I feel that way. Feel what way? I haven’t sacrificed? In a little bit of anger I blurted out that it would be nice to hear a thank you to us for all we’ve done rather than demands. He shrugged again. I never got my thank you. 
So here I am wondering why I am a caring, loving daughter? Why do I give a shit? 
Damn. 
So let’s wake up tomorrow and see where we are heading… cause it seems like every few months I have a new father. I wish he could understand the world and his place a little better. How frustrating he is. How unpredictable life with him is. I wish that he would just say thank you. I wish mostly that he knew he is loved.

2 thoughts on “Let’s Talk About This…

  1. When we start to reach the 3rd and 4th quarter of our lives we start and revert back into being a child. Not that I am there yet, but the “Thank You’s” stop. We feel the since of entitlement. We took care of this child so why wouldn’t she be doing this? As for being a choice that you made, I doubt that ever enters into his mind. My best advice is to start expecting no more than you would from a 2 or 3 year old. The only difference would be, forget about correcting like you would in a child. It’s hard getting either older or incapacitated. So naturally he wants some things that make him feel his freedom. My Father that passed away from COPD was that way. And he lashed out at my mother. They were married for 56 years and loved each other dearly. She took care of him the last 10 years of his life as he dwindled away on oxygen waiting on his last breath. I saw her cry many of times. He has been gone 4 years next month. Thinking that my mothers way of thinking would have changed by now, it hasn’t. Says she would gladly go back to the way things were. She hasn’t enjoyed much life. Retired and he got sick. And maybe a second opinion from another doctor. The bipolar person I cared for was maybe overly medicated, but it was better than the opposite. You have the task of a thankless job. But know in your heart you are doing the right thing. Hang in there.

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    • I do know I am doing the right thing. You have to know my father to know that, I really shouldn’t be surprised by the way he’s been acting. Today so far has been much better. I have a sneaking suspicion he’s been ramping himself up into an agitated mood because we are going to a funeral tomorrow. His Aunt passed. Funerals mean seeing people, people ask questions and want you to answer them. I’m sure the thought of having to say- well I live with my daughter now-is a hard task when at moments you want so badly to go back to being YOU. Only he’s crossed that threshold now. Still, I can’t imagine how he’d think me advising him to not drive is me parenting him. It is me looking out for him, not to mention others. I told him maybe we’d start out slow and stroll around a few blocks soon. That seemed good enough.
      I am sorry for the loss of your father. COPD can be a slow and painful process. Your mother – God bless her. Hope you are doing well.

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