Journey to Nothing

[MuadDib]

Last Thursdayism

 

Evolution 2.0

Edited November 27 by MuadDib

[LastThursday]

Dear diary.

The last week has been a crazy one. My Dad got taken ill with flu, which even for a healthy person would be an unpleasant experience. Instead his flatmate phones me and says he's unable to move at all, and that she's very concerned for him. My Dad had a second major heart attack last month, and this really zapped his physical strength and mobility. Having flu on top of that has nearly killed him. I understand now why flu is taken so seriously for older folks.

Dad ended up going to hospital and has been there a week now. The biggest issue is that his flatmate would be out of the country for weeks, and he had no one else to care for him. My uncle lives fairly near to him, but he is old himself and had mobility issues also, so that wasn't going to work. My sister is in America and my half brother hasn't got two pennies to rub together. So that only left one person, AKA me.

If I had been working this would have been a nightmare, as it is I haven't worked for a few months. My full intention was not to work at all for an extended period, perhaps even up to a year. Primarily I stopped so that I could decompress, destress and just "do nothing" - but also to think about my options and what I could do with my life "the big stuff". Of course, reality doesn't play by our rules and as Americans say sometimes you're dealt a curve ball.

I could simply have said "nope I'm not dealing with that fuck off", but I couldn't bring myself to do that. So, here I am in a foreign country, in the middle of Dublin sorting shit out. My aunt and uncle put me up for a short while. I felt incredibly awkward as we are effectively strangers, I only having gone to their place once before. I've probably seen my uncle twice in about forty years. But luckily we got on well enough. And, as soon as I had the chance I relocated my Dad's flat. His flatmate is back briefly for one day (today) before she goes to Poland for Christmas. 

Seeing my Dad daily in hospital has really emphasised how fragile we can all be at times, and how we can go from being functional to nearly non-functional very quickly. I've kept my visits brief and some days he hardly acknowledged me at all. I'm a fairly stoic and not prone to "over emotion", but my body has been telling me it is stressful, even if my mind is not overwhelmed - I feel tired.

I really really don't want to be doing this shit at all, not out of lack of compassion, but because I'm just not in the right space to be doing so. Effectively my dad will need a carer if he ends up being imobile, and a lot of things will have to happen to re-adjust his living circumstances. I'll do what I can do, but I absolutely refuse to be his carer in any way, I had enough of that shit with my mum for too long. He'll go into a home kicking and screaming if it comes to it, and he'll pay for it out of his money. 

So for the foreseeable next few weeks I'm stuck in cold wet Dublin. I should be thankful, back home there are problems with the water supply and thousands of homes are without water, probably including mine, some problem with the water treatment works. The universe works in mysterious ways, and it's fucking annoying.

Diary out.

[LastThursday]

In the semi-light I stumble. Through the dimness I make out wooden floating stairs leading up. Above a breathing presence, barely there. I stand still a moment straining to hear. I shouldn't have entered. I feel forward and grab a step, feeling its solidness in my grip. In that way I fumble my way round to the bottom and begin to climb. Movement stirs above, but my feet continue despite me. I suddenly stop half way up, as the bright full moon peaks through the blinds and casts my breathing shadow on the wall opposite. I breathe deeply. Should I go? No harm done, just a figment of an imagination. Taking another step up, I am level with the floor above, and automatically push myself on my toes to see. Nothing but sombre darkness. No sound except my clenched breath. Do I say something? I continue looking up all the while, until I'm at the top. My eyes slowly adjust. A large bed sits squarely in the middle of the upper floor, covers strewn wildly. I can barely breathe. Below me the stairs are illuminated in pale moonlight. I take a single step towards the bed arms out groping for an answer. I misjudge the edge of the bed and fall face forward into enveloping softness. I lay very still in embarrassment and in fear, arms and legs out, face down. Suddenly I feel a warm rhythmic breath on the back of my neck. I yank my head round to see what it is. It touches my lips with a single finger in a motion of silence. "I've been waiting".

 

[LastThursday]

Just get it out Guillermo.

I continue to be in Dublin and having to sort out things for my dad, whilst he is still in hospital. He's due to be moved to another hospital for rehabilitation for his mobility. As it stands there is no way that he can live by himself. The hope is that he recovers enough mobility to be able to do that, but even before he went into hospital he was borderline, and was struggling to think clearly and keep on top of things. Saying that, he's a lot more compos mentis that even before he went into hospital. My dad's always been a dreamer and getting him to be practical and pragmatic is a real effort. Getting him to help himself is even harder. Your parents bring you up and then they turn into children and you become their parent.

I really just want to go home and to stop having my dad as the focus of all my attention, it feels artificial and unnatural. And I want to stop living in his flat by myself. Why is it me that's on the hook for his care? Don't my siblings give a shit? Why does his own brother not give a damn? And for the love of god why don't the hospital find him a place for rehab, being in limbo is slowly killing me. The last few weeks has felt like months.

Over and out.