Tag Archives: Support

PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITALS~ HOW MUCH HAVE THEY REALLY CHANGED?

 

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If you’ve read my previous posts you’ll know that I had been having a hard time with the death of my Dad and my siblings. My Dad didn’t leave a Will and it was and still is causing a lot of problems.

I have a twin sister and a half brother who is 7 years older than we are. I believed he had been squatting on the property and breaking into the basement with his new girlfriend. My twin believed I was hallucinating and having a Psychotic break. No matter what I said or did she refused to believe me.

My sister wanted me to get away from the house for awhile to see if I was still “hearing things” and suggested an Extended Stay Hotel for 30 days. I really didn’t want to but I was exhausted, recovering from surgery, and tired of arguing with her.

The Hotel parking lot was filled with drunk people, one of them was passed out in his car where I had to park. It was going to cost me $1,450 to stay there for 30 days. The room was filthy, my poor dog was scared to death and I kept worrying he was making too much noise. I didn’t sleep at all and had started bleeding from my surgery. My sister came the next day and even she was disgusted. I was stuttering and shaking because I was upset. She said I needed to do an inpatient treatment program at the local Psychiatric Hospital or she wouldn’t have anything to do with me any longer. I had ruined her life and now her marriage was suffering because of me.

She knows I’m terrified of hospitalization and haven’t been hospitalized since I had one round of ECT in 2012. This was my twin saying these things to me, I had no one else to talk to, the one person I had that accepted me and loved me unconditionally had just died. I agreed to go to the hospital. She agreed to watch my dog and dropped me off at the door.

As soon as I entered the building my legs buckled. I couldn’t speak or write. The staff was nice enough to help me to a chair and wait until I calmed down enough to speak. I didn’t know my sister had called ahead and told them that I was “hearing voices”. This meant I would automatically go to the highest security level unit. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to forgive her.

The were only a few changes since 2012, they no longer mixed the detoxing patients with the mental health patients. They also had more restrictions on what you could have with you. 1 pair of pants, 1 shirt, 2 pairs of underwear, 1 pair of pajamas, 1 pair of glasses, 1 set of contact lenses (no solution), and that’s pretty much it. Needless to say some people didn’t always smell that great. The bathroom doors had no locks (which I understand) and no way of telling if it was occupied. Every single time I went to use the toilet my roommate walked in on me. We talked to her about it and 5 minutes later she did it again. She also snored louder than anyone I know and talked about personal trauma in her sleep that I was extremely uncomfortable hearing. Again, no sleep.

The second day there I called my sister to check on my dog. She told me she might have to “give him away because T (her husband) didn’t want him there”. This triggered my stuttering, tremors, crying, hiccups, and I had to hide in my room or I would’ve been given Haldol. The doctor in charge of the Unit was in charge of ECT and a big believer in Lithium, Haldol, and Depakote. He was an older man and not up to date on newer medications/treatments. He was also against Adderall, Xanax, and Klonopin. I’ve been taking 30mg of Adderall for years it helps with word finding, my speech, and cognitive issues. He took it away cold turkey, cut my antidepressant in half, and cut the Klonopin in half. He then told me I shouldn’t have any withdrawal or problems with the changes. I’ve been on the same meds and dosages for years.

He didn’t even question the new medication that had been added, Risperidone, which I was having horrible side effects from and felt worse since taking it. Frustrated doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt. He couldn’t even get my name right for the 5 minutes I met with him every other day.

I didn’t receive any kind of therapy, we did a lot of adult coloring and watched TV. Some of the patients were violent which was hard for me to be around. The men and women are kept together, there were a few physical fights that happened next to me and I froze, hands cold and tingling, blood rushing through my ears, I didn’t even hear them yelling at me that it was a lockdown and I needed to go to my room. I finally had to speak up and tell them about my PTSD and Conversion Disorder diagnosis.

The one positive thing to come out of all this is that I learned I have to speak up for myself. I can’t ask or let other people do it for me anymore.

There are things I need to work on and one on one Psychotherapy is my first step. It’s been difficult finding someone who takes Medicare but I’m still looking. My meds are almost back to where they were. I was in the hospital for a little over a week. I’m not sure if I can ever truly have a relationship with my twin sister. I’ll be civil but I won’t call her for support or tell her anything personal.

I’ve been walking my dog and getting more fresh air, I’ve also been looking into what I need to do to move to Florida once my Dad’s estate is settled.

The Extended Stay charged me $1,450 for being there less than 24 hours. Hopefully that will get resolved. Supposedly my sister handled it and told them I was going into the hospital. I wasn’t there so I don’t know and my sister is on vacation so I can’t ask her.

My hospital stay was scary and not much has changed but the staff was kind and I received 1 marriage proposal and 3 phone numbers (from patients) when I left. I’ll never let anyone talk me into or make me feel like I have to do it again. I didn’t hear my brother’s voice or anyone else’s the entire time I was there.

Thanks Everyone!


It’s Been Awhile So Get Ready!

After not really writing for awhile, I started to notice I was becoming more irritable, irrational, quick to anger, isolated and depressed.

I’ve always had a problem with confrontation. I avoid it as much as I can. This has usually meant staying silent when someone hurts me or says/does something I disagree with.

Eventually I will reach a point where I can’t swallow anymore B.S. and I reach a breaking point. Whoever is near me at this time suffers the consequences.

I can physically feel it happening. I hear my blood rushing in my ears, I lose my vision except for the color red or red dots and my head gets incredibly hot.

When it’s over, I don’t remember all of it, only bits and pieces. I know I screamed and yelled, said some horrible things, but I don’t remember the specifics.

I don’t make excuses for myself. I have tried to explain why it happens.

One of the most difficult things is when your loved ones think you aren’t trying hard enough.

When I had my last kidney surgery to change my stents, it was embedded and partially blocked with a build up of mineral and calcium deposits.

Your kidneys filter toxins from your blood and help keep your bodies chemistry in balance.

If you have 1 kidney working at 40% that has been compromised because the stent keeping it working at 40% has become embedded and blocked, your blood isn’t being filtered and your body chemistry is thrown off.

Now imagine you have an illness involving a chemical imbalance in your brain. Plus most of the medications you take go through your kidneys.

This would cause a huge problem if this went on for 6 months without you or your doctor knowing.

So when my stents were finally changed it was like starting over. I felt like I was mentally back where I was at 20 years old. My Psychiatrist didn’t adjust my medications even though he received all the reports. I was basically starting fresh but at high doses. All the medications that had been in my system I had detoxed from. One of the reasons I felt the way I did.

Starting over with all the side effects is horrendous. There have been times I just wanted to get in my car and start driving until I ran out of gas.

My Dad isn’t doing well and I’ve had to worry and take care of him. He has multiple disc herniations and bulges in his back. There’s also a compression at L4 and extreme spinal stenosis and arthritis. When I heard them ask if he knew he had several healed fractions I thought I was going to vomit.

He was too busy bragging about how many pounds of grain he can lift and carry to feed his 300 birds! He told me he got rid of almost all of them. He lied. Then continued to dig the hole deeper by boasting of all the other things he isn’t supposed to be doing.

I can’t chain him to his chair. He turned 75 on June 5th. I called and reminded my sister the night before. She NEVER CALLED HIM. On the 7th I called her and asked if she had called our Dad. She said she was going to. I asked why she didn’t do it on his actual birthday. She replied “He didn’t call me on my Birthday” That’s when the blood started rushing. In the last month she has told me 3 different times that she or her and her husband dislike my behavior and how I don’t take responsibility for anything.

I never see my sister and her husband. Since I had that 1 fight with him 4 or 5 years ago I’ve been kept at a distance. But they still bring up my “behavior”. How do you know what my behavior is when you’re never around me?

Sorry if I’m mad because once again I’m the one taking care of one of our parents and I’ll be the one that gets to watch them get worse and worse. I’ll be the one to either find him dead or watch him die at the hospital while you make excuses from 10 minutes away.

She never called for Father’s Day either.

I can’t watch another parent die.

Watching my mother almost killed me. I can still see her face, the nurses laughing, my Dad howling, the blood, like it’s right in front of me.

I remember her last words to me and that kills me.

I don’t want to do it again. But he never left me. I owe him. I know the rest of my family figures it’s okay because I’m alone and they think I’ll stay that way. Maybe they’re right and I should accept it.


LETTERS BETWEEN SISTERS (The Response)

This is the response my twin sister wrote me. 

Everyone goes through horrible things and your journey has definitely been particularly violent and ugly, and for that I am sorry.

But I can not keep feeling bad for being normal. If normal means going to therapy on and off for the last 25 years and having my own mental illness diagnosis of General Anxiety. I’ve also been the thin twin and now the fat twin (she was thin until she had her children she is in no way considered fat). Things have been easy for me?!?! (I don’t think I ever said this I said she made it look easy) Living on my own paying my own way, sometimes wondering where my next meal or paycheck was coming from. Working 80 hours a week to keep myself afloat. (I have given her thousands of dollars over the years for her rent and food even when she was living in California. My parents also gave her money. She could’ve live at home for college it was only 15 minutes but insisted on renting an expensive house with her friends that she couldn’t afford.)

Men have treated me badly- one boyfriend actually spit in my face! (She makes it sound like “How dare he?” no one should spit on anyone but comparing it to what I’ve gone through is frustrating) Or maybe dealing with my husband’s alcohol and drug addiction? (She knew about it from the beginning but ignored it for years. I spoke to her about it when I quit drinking and she made excuses for him.) 

Normal would not be walking my sister through her mental illness and electric shock treatment. (This one hurts she did not walk me through my illness she ignored it but she was there for the shock treatment because my Dad couldn’t be.) Or the fact that my mother died two weeks after I became a mother and needed her the most. Or maybe the fact I’ve lost a brother to alcohol and haven’t been able to speak to him for the past 9 years because I can’t support his lifestyle. (It isn’t a lifestyle it’s an illness he’s an alcoholic and I suspect he has other issues too. You don’t just cut someone out when they need you. She stood by her husband for years and he did the same.) 

In fact I feel as if I can’t really count on family at all anymore. (Unless she needs pain pills or a babysitter.) 

I can not apologize for the things I have now. I worked really hard and overcame much to get it. If I stopped being around you it was because I was trying to lead my own life. Also your behavior was so out of control I couldn’t witness it anymore. (I thought she walked me through my mental illness.) But I can not feel guilty or apologize for being who I am. I never feel like I can be enough, do enough, help enough, listen enough or say enough to be the sister or person you want or expect me to be.

 

Maybe I’ve been to harsh on her but she never wanted to listen or know what was going on. My best friend can tell you that. I can’t tell you how many times W. has said to me “You need to accept that she isn’t capable of being there for you and she doesn’t understand.” Maybe W. always understood because she has a degree in Psychology and witnessed everything I went through. W. listened without judgement, she tried to help I just wasn’t in a place where I could listen but at least she tried. W. walked me through my illness. When W. entered my Hospital room after my kidneys failed she was white as a ghost and crying. She hugged me so hard it hurt. My sister didn’t have that kind of reaction. Even W’s mom was upset she said “That’s not my D! What the hell has been going on?” she was crying as she said it. W. never cries unless it has to do with me. Maybe I don’t know what talking about.

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DARKENED ROOM

I find myself going to my room earlier each day. I sit in my dimly lit bathroom, smoking cigarettes and watching TV and movies. There’s an exhaust fan in the ceiling that sucks the smoke out. I don’t smoke during the day or if I go away. When I went to Salem and the other Hotel for 4 days I didn’t smoke at all. Whenever I visit my Aunt in Florida I don’t feel the need to smoke. Only when I’m home.

I already know it’s unhealthy, my mom passed away from complications from Lung Cancer. I’ve seen what it does and horrible it is. I’ve given up drinking, sex, socializing, most food, and my health isn’t looking promising anyway.

I feel relaxed and almost happy when I make it to my room. I don’t have to hear my Dad growling “GODDAMN, GODDAMN!” while I start to sweat and feel sick. Yesterday he knocked over the kitchen utensil holder. Instead of picking everything up he decided to start smashing dishes everywhere. I was frozen in my chair in the living room with tears rolling down my face.

It’s a horrible feeling not being able to move when all you want to do is run. When he came in to where I was he became angrier that I was crying. When I was able to move I went to my room.

I’m having trouble finishing anything I start. Jewelry, coloring, my horror list, posts, research, finding a doctor etc.

Hopefully things will change soon. It usually does eventually. I just never know when. It could be weeks, months, or days.

I don’t think having a fever is helping or that my tongue is kind of green and white. I know how to fix that but it might be too late. The virus may have gone to my stomach or other organs. I hate doctors. I hate finding new doctors just to get antibiotics I’m really not supposed to take because I take too many at the highest dose as it is because of my Kidney Stents. At some point they will stop working.

Okay, I’m going to try to be nice to my dad and go to my room.


TOO MUCH THERAPY CAN RUIN RELATIONSHIPS

Therapy is beneficial to many people in many ways. When it isn’t beneficial is when it’s used to justify hurtful things you say to people.

My twin sister has a habit of doing this often.

She has told me recently that my Dad never really wanted to spend the time with me that he did, he felt he had to because he was afraid I would hurt myself or drink. She also said he never liked the movies or TV shows that I forced him to watch.

I felt sick, sad, guilty, angry, lost, and alone. Most of this is probably true. Which leaves me feeling how I used to years ago. Worthless and unwanted.

Physically something is going on that I don’t really want to deal with. I’m tired of all of it.

I don’t want to be growled at anymore for speaking. I don’t want to repeat myself 5 times when I have trouble talking. I don’t want to beg people to talk to me or like me, it hurts too much.

I need my stents changed but I’m afraid I won’t come out of the anesthesia. I’m worse than I’ve ever been and the doctors have already been concerned about this happening.

The reason anesthesia is a safe place for me is because it’s the same each time. It’s a sunny, happy place with loved ones I can’t be with.

I tired of feeling this way but it’s difficult when the physical is connected to the mental and vice versa. I keep going but it isn’t living.

I have to say I enjoy when my brother in law comes home from therapy and says “My therapist told me…..” and will be the opposite of what my sister believes or wants him to do. She get’s so pissed she actually calls me directly to complain.

Family, what can you do?


RANTS & RAGE AGAIN

When you’re a person that has always been afraid conflict you have a tendency to push down any anger of your own. You don’t defend yourself often and stay quiet. Eventually this catches up to you.

I used to have a problem once in awhile, usually while drinking, but it tapered off as I got older. Except I find in the last year I’m having more periods of rage. Times where I want to throw something, punch a wall, and scream until I lose my voice. I can’t always tell the difference between rage and pain.

My sister has refused to have contact with me since Saturday which is unusual for us. We usually don’t go more than 3 days without at least a text because I stalk her with texts. This time I’m not. I’m not begging for my twin sister to like me.

My Dad’s hearing has either gotten extremely worse or he’s pretending it is because when I talk to him he acts like he can’t hear me until I throw something at him.

I hate repeating myself because my voice isn’t strong it never has been. I’ve had a sore throat for months now and I have trouble remembering words most times. If I start to get stressed then I start to stutter which makes it all worse. So I don’t bother anymore. I sit by myself everyday, I only talk out loud to the dogs sometimes.

The bad thing about this is when I have to go out in public and talk to someone. I feel like I’ve lost the ability for conversation. My throat feels rusty. I worry I’m making a fool of myself. Then I stay home more and more.

I just tried talking to my Dad about something on the news. One minute in I notice he isn’t looking at me and his eyes are blank. It’s like I’m not there, I’m invisible, what I was told by other people in that one moment is all true. I don’t matter, no one will ever love me, I’m a waste of space, ugly, nothing, I don’t deserve to live. The hamster wheel starts with all of these thoughts and the voices that went with them.

You can heal physically, for the most part I did. Emotionally I have never healed from my past. When I think of when I was locked in a bathroom not allowed out until I cut my wrist while they stood on the other side of the door taunting me I want to vomit. I allowed that and maybe I deserved it. If my own family can’t be around me than maybe I am that bad.

I feel like I want my Mom and I want to go home but I’m already home. So I’ll wait it out because I know it’s temporary or at least I hope it is.Klimt-Crying-Woman

 


SUICIDE~ WHAT YOU MIGHT NOT WANT TO SAY

No one has to tell me the damage I’ve done with my drinking, erratic behavior, attempts at suicide, abusive environments, and everything else I’ve done. I think about all of it almost daily. At times I use these memories as self punishment to remind myself why I don’t deserve to be happy. I know this isn’t true but I have days where it’s difficult to differentiate between the two.

I never wanted to tell anyone I thought about suicide because I was terrified of being institutionalized. I had seen several places while visiting relatives and they were scary. I didn’t want to be taken from my parents. Even though there is a strong hereditary link in my family my parents did the best they could at the time and I know they loved me. There are days where I do doubt this. They happen a lot more recently.

No one knows what to say someone who has attempted suicide so usually it never gets discussed.

It needs to be talked about specifically in the family. My family never discussed any of my attempts. I would be picked up at the Hospital when I was allowed to leave or if I had to stay in a Psych ward usually it was my Dad who came to visit me until I was released. It’s weird that I just remembered that. My Mom and sister never came. Only my Dad.

After it was like nothing ever happened. How can you have a child who overdoses 4 times and cuts their wrists enough to need stitches and cause nerve damage twice and not talk about it? But that’s how it was.

My sister told me the other day that my actions “scarred her for life”. I wasn’t sure whether I should be angry or sad. She was never around during the worse of it or if she was she never showed up.

When she commented that she had more sympathy for her friend’s son who shot himself in the head because he must have been in “real pain” unlike other people who attempt suicide and fail, I felt a tingling heat and dizziness. I couldn’t help but think she was talking about me.

Never compare someone’s pain to another’s. I replay conversations and comments in my head over and over until I’m cried out and exhausted.

I’m not unaware of the damage I’ve done it’s the opposite. I’m hyper aware which makes everything harder to deal with. c02707c766261aeb5fc516d564ea5b15


PSYCHIATRY 101 (Kind Of)

CLARIFICATION OF TERMS/VOCABULARY

I thought I knew what most of the language being used around me or in medical reports meant. Turns out I was wrong and so were a few of my Doctors. It’s obvious who keeps up with new research/education/diagnostic criteria and who doesn’t. All you have to do is look at some of the exams used in 2017 for Psychology/Sociology/Psychiatry/Neurology/Pharmacology to see there has been a change in thinking.

PSYCHOLOGY: The scientific study of behavior that is tested through scientific research.

SOCIOLOGY: The study of human social groups and society.

PSYCHIATRY: The study, diagnosis, prevention, treatment, of mental health disorders.

PSYCHOLOGIST VS PSYCHIATRIST: The each have different approaches and degrees/licensing. Psychologists are nonmedical professionals who train in methods of Psychological Testing, Psychotherapy, Analysis, and Research. The can not prescribe medications or ECT. Psychologists look at behavior and track sleep patterns, eating patterns, and negative thoughts. Psychiatrists do have medical degrees and graduate from medical school. Psychiatrists tend to look at biology and neurochemistry ruling out vitamin deficiencies, thyroid problems or other medical reasons for mental health issues before making a diagnosis.

I’m going to focus on Psychiatry/Psychiatrists for now. It can be overwhelming when you read all of it so I’ll stick to the basics. These are some things I didn’t know and was afraid to ask.

What is the DSM?

The DSM (volume 5 now) is the standard classification manual of mental disorders published by the AMA (American Medical Association). A Psychiatrist basically uses this more for billing than anything else. When it comes to Psychiatric Disorders there is no one size fits all so they come as close as they can.

NOS

NOS means Not otherwise specified, again more of a billing thing and because you might show most of the symptoms of a disorder but not all of them but the Doctor is certain that you probably will in the future.

INVOLUNTARY ADMISSION

If you are admitted to a Psychiatric facility involuntarily you must be released in 72 hours. A probate hearing needs to happen within the 72 hours if they want you to remain an impatient involuntarily.

YOUR RIGHTS

As a patient you have the right to refuse treatment (including medications), the right to privacy, to keep personal items (except in cases of self harm), enter into legal contracts, and informed consent. It’s important to know this. I always felt I didn’t have the right to ask questions because they were the Doctors and more educated than me. But there were many times I should’ve spoke up and didn’t. This only added to my problems.

When you feel you are being held against your will and someone threatens to keep you as long as they want if you’re not a “good girl” it’s demeaning and terrifying to say the least.

To find out what is going on a Mental Status Assessment is done which is a view of Psychological Function in time that changes interview to interview. Doctors also use the following:

GENERAL APPEARANCE: grooming, how a person is dressed, hygiene, eye contact, posture, appearance vs stated age. (If you show up in your pajamas and you haven’t showered in weeks and are shuffling into the office most likely it isn’t going to go well)

ATTITUDE: (toward examiner) cooperative, warm, friendly, suspicious, guarded, hostile, apathetic, distant, combative, aggressive, seductive. (Pretty sure if you act seductive you’re receiving that 72 hour hold. Same with combative. I’ve been distant, guarded, hostile and cooperative I think)

BEHAVIOR AND ACTIVITY: Psychomotor Retardation (medical term), restless, agitated, hyperactive, tremors, tics, unusual movements/gestures, catatonia, gait and coordination. (I’ve had all of these at one time or another. It took a long time to figure out it was mostly due to my brain and trauma)

SPEECH AND LANGUAGE: Clarity, Speed, Volume, Relevancy, Pressured, Hesitant, Coherence and Fluency (So I really don’t do well in this department. If I am manic I will talk fast and go from topic to topic, I will also repeat myself. If in a depressive episode my voice is quieter, I have trouble finding words and if it’s a really bad day I will stutter or hesitated before saying a word. Either way it’s embarrassing when I’m in public I usually have to sit in my car and cry for a little bit before I can drive.)

THIS IS IT FOR NOW BUT THERE WILL BE MORE. I HOPE PEOPLE ARE INTERESTED. I ENJOY LEARNING AND RESEARCHING I ALSO DON’T THINK I’LL BE TRAVELING ANYWHERE SO I NEED A PROJECT. BBA3eDB

 


GRIEF ISN’T SOMETHING I’M ABLE DO

I went to the grocery store yesterday because I was forced to. I went to one I don’t usually go to but my Dad likes. I walked in and saw a very thin, frail looking man, hunched over his carriage. I knew he looked familiar but he looked so old and sick I thought it couldn’t be him, it couldn’t be my Dad.

It was. I couldn’t move, I felt the numbing heat that starts in my legs and travels to my head. I knew the shaking/tremors were going to start, I didn’t know I already had tears on my face. I was stuck where I was standing and staring at him. I felt such fear and anger. Anger because he doesn’t listen to his Doctors or anyone else, anger because my twin sister has once again left me to watch our remaining parent die or kill themselves slowly because they’ve given up.

I’ve left her so many texts it’s like I’m a stalker. She hasn’t responded. I left a voicemail and she hasn’t responded. She thinks I’m too dramatic. I’m getting upset over nothing. My Dad’s Nephrologist told him he has less than 4 years and he’s being very optimistic with that estimate.

I told my Dad last night that I don’t want my name on the house or anything. I refuse to be here when my sister and her husband show up and start criticizing the house and yard. I know exactly how it will go. “How could you let it get this bad? How could you let him keep all these birds? How could you let him keep all the clocks? Why wasn’t the floor redone? How could you let him plant more flowers? Why didn’t you have those trees removed?”. I’m not going to listen to it when they weren’t here for any of it.

The didn’t offer to help with anything or come to visit. If my Dad wants to see his grandchildren he has to try to contact my sister and arrange a meeting. Meanwhile I’m a prisoner in this house of antiques and dirt. A prisoner of my own guilt and shame for the things I’ve done in the past that hurt my parents. There’s no way I can ever make up for the things that I’ve done or said.

Is there a time where I say enough is enough? Where I do something I want to do like an adult? Make a decision like an adult? If I turn out to be wrong I take responsibility and try to correct the wrong. Simple things like driving a long distance should not make my Dad angry or worry so much that he’s dry heaving. I might only have a few more years left than he does I think it’s okay to take a road trip or stay out past dark.

I know most of this is my fault because I never really moved out on my own. I knew in the back of my mind that I wouldn’t make it living on my own years ago. I’m a different person now. I still need to do a lot of work and I’m not 100% sure about being on my own but I would like to have the choice. I won’t abandon my Dad. This isn’t in my nature to do.

When I think of the man who taught me to swim, who could swim like a fish himself, who loved the water and looked like he was born from the sea, I smile.

When I think of the man who taught me drive with patience and enough trust to let me drive him over a large bridge in the pouring rain, I smile.

When I think of the man who saved every little animal I brought to him without hesitation, I smile.

When I think of the man who sat by my side night after night watching movies and TV he wasn’t interested in just to keep me company so I wouldn’t feel alone, I smile.

When I think of the man who saved me dying, I shut down and cry.

My mom passed away nine years ago and I still have not come to terms with it. Her death haunts me almost daily. Maybe it was because I watched her die I don’t know.

There are still some of my pets that have died that I have a hard time with when I think about them or something triggers a memory. I know people who are diagnosed Bipolar have a harder time with grief but I also know this is something more.


LASHING OUT AT YOU

As much as I love my father I can recognize his faults. He is one the most stubborn people I’ve ever me. He pushes himself beyond any human limits leaving his family to deal with the consequences. This mostly means me. Yes, I’m close to my Dad, that doesn’t mean I should have to be the only one worrying about him and witnessing him at his worst.

Finding him unconscious on the front lawn with his car parked in the middle of the street scared me. What scared me the most was that his pants and underwear were down. My father never even walked around the house without a shirt on, he was hallucinating because his fever was so high. Dialysis knew he had a high fever and a Urinary Tract Infection. They also knew he wasn’t steady on his feet. Yet they allowed him to drive home anyway. I admit I may have called them and said some things that were not nice I really don’t remember some of that day but I take responsibility if I did.

I had to call 911 because he wouldn’t wake up. The second time I had to call 911 was because he left the Hospital against the Doctor’s advice. He was bleeding internally but they didn’t where. He was home 24 hours when I heard a boom come from the bathroom. I had to break the bathroom door but still couldn’t open it all the way because my Dad was blocking it. When I saw the amount of blood on the floor, walls, shower and even the window I found the strength to push him to the side. I got him up and he told me to get him to the toilet. He didn’t make it. He collapsed on to the toilet. It looked look his liver had exploded out of him along with some other organs. I was terrified.

I was screaming and calling 911 at the same time. The neighbor heard me and ran over. When she took a look in the bathroom she had to run outside. It was nothing but blood and tissue. When the medics arrived they said “I’m surprised he’s still alive. Jesus, what a mess.” Then my favorite neighborhood Police Officer decided to see what was going on. He asked the EMTs and they said I was upset and my Dad was hemorrhaging internally. His response? A laugh and “The daughter’s always upset she’s crazy don’t give her attention it only makes it worse”. I actually went to High School with one of the EMTs and he knew I was diagnosed as Bipolar. He didn’t like the comments and tried to tell the Officer that it isn’t a joke. I stopped him because it wasn’t worth it the man wasn’t going to change his opinion of me.

My sister shows up after the mess is cleaned and stress is over.

I need a new car, the alternator is shot in mine, it needs a windshield, brakes, and probably tires. It’s a 1999 RAV 4 with 84,000 miles but I should do it now while I can because I don’t know what will happen in the future. Of course my Dad insists on putting the alternator in himself and trying to do other work on it. He comes in every 15 minutes looking like he’s going to die. I kept telling him not to do it but he refused to listen.

Finally I had enough. When this happens it’s never good. I told him if I have to find him one more time I’ll make Leaving Las Vegas look like a Disney film. He wasn’t happy with that and said “Don’t you ever threaten me Goddamnit!”. That’s when I started to tremor, cry and stutter.

He can do what he wants. When I get a new car I just have to make sure it’s big enough to sleep in. I did spend some time with my nephews and sister. The older one spotted me first. Oh how his face lit up! He was so excited he yelled “MOM! MOM! Auntie Day is here! She is! She is!” and he threw himself at me so hard he almost broke his gift. I bought the boys a beautiful handmade and hand painted rain stick. They love stuff like that and it can be a decoration too so my sister would like it. She received Egyptian Goddess incense cones and make up samples. Her husband’s gift was that I showed up while he wasn’t there. lol

The boys looked so grown up I had to keep pinching the skin under my arm so I wouldn’t cry. I’d be banned again if I cried. I love them for their innocence and because they don’t know yet how the rest of the world looks at me. All they see is Auntie Day, the one who loves them and brings them cool gifts, who plays with them, laughs with them, and would do anything to protect them. I mentioned how my Dad is acting and how I’m worried about having a place to live if anything happens to him suddenly. She still made no offer. It’s a three bedroom house with a furnished basement that’s used as a man cave with a bed. I guess there wouldn’t be enough room for a 5’5″ 138 pound woman for a week.

Which makes me think I have gotten that bad.

 


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