“I don’t want to be here (nursing home), I don’t care if I go home, fall down the stairs hit my head and die, I want to be home”.
Well thanks for the heads up dad. At least I know to expect the call soon. Apparently psych may have finally come in today to assess his mental health. I hope to hell he wasn’t able to charm them the way he charms everyone else. The nurses at the facility think he’s cookoo so hopefully that’s enough.
However, if his right to make his own decisions medically are revoked we are making him a ward of the state. Neither my sister nor I want to be responsible for him. The decades of abuse that continues even now over the phone has ruined that for him. He can be a number in the system.
It’s obvious to me he’s angry that we expressed our concern, he’s angry that we think he’s not “all there” but he’s not. He has wicked aphasia, his short term memory sucks, his ability to make proper choices for his health care sucks as evidenced by the fact he needed an emergency amputation on a Sunday night. That he was. and continues to be severely malnourished.
At least now I know that unless his rights are revoked I will be getting a call sooner or later that my abuser, my father, my daddy is dead. He’s all those things to me. I have very complex feelings about him. I realize it’s not me, but that beautiful 4 year old inside of me whose heart is broken over his words because again they echo what she’s always known- she’s not enough. Not enough to make him want to live. She’ll never be enough. I’ll never be enough.
On the worst days, the days when I think scratching isn’t enough and maybe I want to die my kids they’re the first things that keep me here, then my husband, my sister, my brother, my mom, my stepfather, my friends. They are enough.
All I can say is my mom better go gently into that good night, doing this once was enough.
The Things We Hide Inside 