I’m Trying & You Don’t Know How Hard

My father is having surgery tomorrow at 8:30 a.m. and I am driving him to the hospital. My night time meds will still be in my system, I am at my worst in the morning and get a little better as the day goes on. I will have a slight stutter and tremors when talking to the staff at the hospital. They will look at me in a strange way and wonder what is going on. My cognitive functions will be low, things like word grasping and short term memory, I will try to write stuff down but with the tremors it will be difficult. How do I know this? Because I have been through it before. Because I live with my dad it is assumed I will automatically take care of these things and only call my sister and brother in an extreme emergency.

When I tried to get my sister to help out this time she said she “thought” she could drive and come to our house. While she was there she would “maybe clean if one of the dogs didn’t bite her like last time because it really really hurt”. There is no reason she can’t drive the doctors told her she was NOT having seizures it was stress. Insulting me about the cleanliness of the house is not the way to go and I know the dogs are a pain but we never have company and Chihuahuas are territorial. I got so frustrated I said forget it, it’s ok I can do it. So as usual I am doing it.

My father won’t hear half of what is being said to him but will pretend he does. He won’t ask questions and will become rude. I will have to get in the middle. In return he will say cruel things to me. He does this because he is scared. If there is a blood clot it could go to his heart or brain and kill him. Once again I am left to watch a parent suffer and possibly die. The selfishness of both siblings amazes me. I am mentally and physically I’ll yet left to deal with the caretaking of our father. I know I complain a lot I do so here because there is literally not another place or person to go to. I am almost at the end of what I can handle. The anger inside is consuming me. The fear of losing another parent and not knowing what will happen to me after is giving my ulcer ulcers. I don’t belong anywhere or with anyone. What would happen to my dogs? Who’s going to tell me they love me at least every other night before bed? I’m sorry. So sorry.

About darie73

I have lived with Bipolar Disorder since my early teens. I have lived with Social Anxiety Disorder for even longer. I self-medicated with alcohol for over 20 years, that's how long it took to get a diagnosis. I'm open and honest about my mental health so hopefully one day the system will change. View all posts by darie73

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