A fee weeks ago my father was taken to the Hospital from dialysis. He was bleeding somewhere internally. After about 3 days he discharged himself against Doctor’s orders. That Sunday he ordered me to get him suppositories at CVS. I told my sister and she yelled at me to “just do it”. Neither one of them would listen to me. I told both of them that sticking a suppository up his ass after having internal bleeding was not a good idea.
I went to CVS and got him what he wanted. I noticed something strange when I had come down the stairs that morning. 2 of the bathroom rugs were gone. I put my contacts in and saw a large amount of blood on the tiles and under the third rug. I ran out of the bathroom. I asked my dad what happened. He said “nothing”. I screamed at him. I called him a “selfish son of a bitch”. The 3 days he had been in the hospital the week before I had to water and feed his hobby of over 300 pigeons. I have a compromised immune system and 1 kidney. My sister’s husband forbade her to help me because it was hazardous. She wasn’t even “allowed” to help me with the inside of our house. He thinks we are animals.
A half hour goes by and a I hear a loud bang coming from the bathroom. I run and bang on the door. There is no answer. I force the door open and my dad is lying on the floor. I try to get him up. He opens his eyes and says “Darie please help me to the toilet”. It was at this time that I looked down and saw all the blood that had leaked through his sweat pant bottoms and onto the last carpet. I got him close to the toilet as he started to take down his pants I hear a loud splash on the floor and him landing on the toilet slumped forward. The splash was blood and tissue. He was hemorrhaging rectally. It was the brightest red I’ve ever seen and looked like it had large pieces of liver in it. I screamed and screamed. I called 911 and went and held my father’s head in my hands. They took him back to the hospital. He was there another week with no real answers as to why he was bleeding internally. I fed the birds again. It was torture. Some died. I buried them. He was mad. I yelled at him. He has to get rid them or the town will come and declare it a hazard. I know he loves them but at this point it’s too much for any one person to do let alone one that’s sick.
All of this has been too traumatic on me. I actually was more relaxed with him in the hospital. I wasn’t waiting for the other shoe to drop constantly. I know my dad loves me. Since my mother’s death and his kidney’s failing he has slowly been going down hill mentally and physically. The dad I knew would never ever say some of the things he has said to me, or threatened me. I know this is because he’s ill. But I’m always the one left to deal with all of it. When I opened that bathroom door I thought my heart was going to explode out of my chest. My mind went somewhere else. I did what I had to but I wasn’t really there. I have nightmares about all the blood and him laying on floor. Just what my Conversion Disorder needed. I stuttered so much 911 didn’t understand me and went by the address that came up on their screen. I felt useless. A state trooper was looking at me while he talked to another guy. His smile was cocky, his thumbs hooked into his gun belt. I had seen him before. He twirled his finger around his temple in the “crazy” gesture. At that moment, if it wasn’t for my dad, I was going to show this asshole just how “crazy” I could be. Years ago I only dated ex-cons. They taught me quite a bit. I’m not proud of it but it would come in handy in certain situations. Like if someone enters your home during an emergency situation and thinks there is anything funny about it. But eventually I have learned Karma does indeed come back around. And eventually she’ll be waiting for me too.