Wednesday, September 22, 2021

Where have I been for the last three years?

Helping my domestic life partner take care of her elderly father who has since passed away. 

He did the best he could after the death of his wife and in many ways our job became easier after her death until he had a stroke last summer, 2020, before Trump's mishandling of covid blew up in our faces. After his stroke, he was 92 at the time, he began slipping slowly into Alzheimer's related dementia and our lives revolved around taking care of him almost exclusively. We had to do everything for him, and I mean everything.  in the last six months when he lost the ability to walk we finally got hospice care approved for him which helped us some. We used a Hoyer lift to get him in and out of bed and into his recliner. His mind slowly slipped away and it became gradually harder to even do that. We had to help him toilet, at one point we administered an enema because the poor old guy was crying from the pain of constipation. We had to feed him in the last months of his life and ask him if he needed something to drink. He finally passed away.  He wasn't perfect in life but he did the best he could and it was a shame three out of four of his children would not lift a finger to help. His youngest son is a sociopath who cares for nothing but himself, his youngest daughter is a selfish cunt who lives 25 minutes away but could not be bothered to even pick up a phone to call her dying father. And his eldest son who lives in Texas was too busy riding his little horses and shooting his little gun while yelping about freedom to help. I took care of him while he lived, I did what they refused to do and now after his death, I want NOTHING to do with them, and 99% of the rest of his family, especially the right wing Bible thumping Trump lovers.  I skipped his funeral because I could not stand to see them accept condolences on the death of a man they refused to help us care for and because I would have punched them all in the face and gone to jail for it, so fuck it.

And while all that was going down, my bowel cancer came back in the form of a softball sized tumor in my small bowel, which meant emergency surgery to remove it, chemo, and having to put up with a shitty oncologist who was more concerned with policing my language than she was with the high doses of the chemo drugs that caused my whole body to cramp. Trust me, yo do not want an eye cramp, ever. I had to stop the chemo after the 7th dose because I got tired of being treated like I was a nuisance and I got tired of the clinic staff antagonizing me and then calling me 'difficult' when I would not put up with their bullshit.

Oh yeah, and after Lee's stroke he could not help it, it was part of the dementia, he got me confused with someone else and became abusive and punched me in the back of the head one day while I was helping to buckle his seat belt  before we could take yet another drive. It was a rare moment when Sparky's brother got off his ass and helped his sister out. I thought I had covid or was having another heart episode, so I went to the hospital, this was before covid exploded, and I had a pacemaker put in.  We asked her brother and his Gladys Kravitz of a wife to stay a day or two more after my pacemaker was put in so Sparky could stay with me to make sure I was okay, they refused, leaving us on our own yet again with a dementia patient who could do nothing for himself and me with a pacemaker to get used to. They said they HAD to get back to the shithole we call Texas, but fun fact after Lee died, they over slept and missed their flight after the funeral and laughed and laughed about it. 

I might blog more later I don't know, but as you can tell from my previous few posts, I'm not about taking any shit from anyone anymore. 

EDIT: Lee was a sweet old man who in his last days was gentle as a lamb when his delusions left him alone. I was proud that I could help him pass over.  I held his hand and did my best to ease his worries and suffering without any of that religious shit getting in the way.  And you know how many members of his family thanked me after he died for all my hard work and stress that nearly killed me? One, his daughter and my domestic life partner, Sparky.  The rest, NOT A FUCKING PEEP. 

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