Just recently someone on my Facebook page “liked” a post by someone who isn’t on my friends list, so I could see the post. Wow. That sentence was complicated. Anyway, the post that was liked (follow along if you can) was by a guy I went to High School with, Billy Barnett. Billy was an awesome guy, a year older and he married another classmate, Donna Evans, who was a year younger. They got married in ’79. In this post, which is a video, Bill was at the Grand Canyon scattering Donna’s ashes. She had lost her fight (and knowing Donna-she put up one HELL of a fight) with cancer. In the script that follows he explains that this was on her bucket list of things she wanted to do, when she got better. These are the things that make me think of my own mortality. And this had been on my mind alot lately.
My Dad is averaging a hospital visit about every month. Years of abusing his body and In my opinion (and since this is MY blog, my opinion counts) KARMA, every medical issue you could think of has and is happening. Prostrate Cancer, COPD, Congestive Heart Failure, Diabetes, and the list goes on and on…. Lately alot of internal hemmorraging. It seems that as you get older your parts and pieces wear out, and in Dad’s case alot of the things he STILL does (or doesn’t do, as the case may be) compound the problems, and then there is Karma….
He is mean and nasty and for some reason thinks everyone owes him and that it is apparently a priviledge to take care of him.
Mother of course is the world biggest enabler. After our conversation today, I don’t think I need to hold my breath waiting for them to call any time soon. I’ll call her on her Birthday in May.
She was griping about Dad being hateful at the hospital telling the Doctor he wanted to go home. The Dr. told him they wanted to keep him overnight for observation and he said that his wife could observe him. Now, keep in mind (WARNING!! TMI Moment coming here) that Dad’s hands are gnarled and because of different accidents (Like dropping the satellite dish on one of his hands and crushing a few fingers) and operations he cannot comb his own hair, shave himself or wipe his own butt. Great. Just what I wanted to know-thanks Mom. I get the whole getting older thing-but you had better be nice to people while you can, and be appreciative of the people taking care of you. Mother is in better health than Dad, but he had better pray to God that nothing happens to her, because Ronnie will slap his happy ass in a nursing home, which quite honestly is where he needs to be. They live in a split foyer with steps to get out the front door and steps to get him off the deck. He is eventually going to fall and take Mother with him. Anyway when she was griping, I told her to hang on, and tell me again how long he had been bleeding before he finally fell making a HUGE mess (that Mother got to clean up) and had to be taken to the ER. She replied, 2 Days. I said, Well, that is YOUR fault. He is a stubborn old ass and you are responsible for making this monster, and I don’t feel sorry for him.
Then at one point during our conversation (don’t you wonder why she even wants to talk to me?), she was telling me that she told Dad that she thought part of his stomach problems were related to the copenhagen he still chews (ecccchhhhh, and partially swallows, yuuuuuuccccccckkkkkkk). He had told her that when she comes to pick him up tomorrow to make sure to bring him a can of copenhagen. I’d say tough shit, buddy. You can’t drive, you are dependant on me to go to the store for you, and I’m not doing it. She says, “Ok, Don.” and then gripes about it. She was also griping that he drinks a 2 liter bottle of Mountain Dew every day. He will shake his empty glass of ice at her and say, “Georgia! My glass is empty!” I told her you would shake your glass at me one time and I would throw something at your head. Fucking ASK me, asshole. I told her the next time he started hemmorraging if he wouldn’t go to the Dr, to just tell him that you were leaving and he could clean up the damn mess himself and he could take care of himself and she told me that there was something about, “For better or for worse” and I told her that it had never been better and she had done a remarkable job of making it worse. I know, I’m supposed to be supportive-but for the love of God (Allah, Buddah, the rock in my backyard, whoever the hell you pray to), you can’t gripe if you aren’t even trying to fix it.
Then as if she hadn’t had enough, she asked me if I was planning on coming down for Blakes graduation. My response, “Oh HELL no!” It’s like I explained to her, the last time I was in Rolla, my family (except my sister and her son) made a point of not talking to me. I don’t give a rats ass if I ever see or talk to them again. She said, “Well, I think he’s planning on sending you an invitation” They are apparently having a party at Lions Club. Did I mention that Georgia is oblivious? And yes, I’ll send the kid a card and some cash. It’s not his fault his father is dumb as a creek minnow.
As as the icing on the cake (you know, one of those things I can’t have becausee of all the fucking allergies I have developed) I have to have something called a “supression test” Isn’t THAT ironic? Do I sound like I supress things?
” It was a Monday
A day like any other day
I left a small town
For the Apple in decay
It was my destiny
It’s what we needed to do
They were telling me
I’m telling you…”