Take It As It Comes

A strange hum streams through the body, a deep ache... Twisting and swirling through every crevice until it's caressed every nerve ending like a virus slithering through the veins of a helpless victim. Telling me that horrid cycle is approaching; unwanted and uninvited, it takes over my system and brings an array of inexplicable horrors with it.

Yay for the wonders of the female body. *scoffs and takes a drink of her strong coffee*

Another chilly morning, where the skies are a cooler shade of blue as puffs of clouds drift along its edge; journey unknown.

Even as the hormones fluctuate deep within the chaotic workings of my form, my heart sighs with an unspoken heaviness... A deep worry of what the Doctor will have to say when we go to see him at 8am on the 11th. 

There's also another pain lingering just off in the shadows, remembering that on the 11th will be a year that I damn near blew poor Ellie's engine by flying over the vincent thomas bridge from San Pedro to Long Beach to see Lory in the Hospital...

*Pauses as Pandora Radio begins playing Bon Jovi's 'Wanted; Dead or Alive'*

So many things internally to suss through. So much to think about, so many emotions festering and bubbling from wounds once thought healed.  A true struggle to be level headed and in a state of calm when the seams of my control are beginning to burn and turn to ash. The internal child waking and calling out for reassurance. Desperate to feel safe, strong arms to encase me and in that silence, know that I'm not alone.

*sighs and shakes her head before taking another hefty drink of her coffee*

No matter how much that frightened innocence begs for attention, it'll just have to wait.

Yesterday Dad seemed to be more himself, the angry bouts of confusion fewer and not as bad as they could be.

*chuckles as AC/DC's 'Highway to Hell' begins thundering through the speakers*

Guess someone's making sure my soundtrack is Supernatural themed this morning. *grows a half smile* 

He seemed to be doing better, more like himself and even the energy in the house was lighter because of it. But as I'd anticipated, that only lasted until about 1am when he called for me to come to his room so he could use the bathroom. I was fine with it, even in my zombie like state, but I noticed his mood was starting to sour again. I figured he just needed to get back into bed and he'd be fine. 4am rolls around and I'm woken again because he wanted some water, but then wanted to get up, but then didn't. Even in my half asleep state, I tried to be as cordial as possible and did as he asked. 5:30am he calls me in again and is rambling about getting up and having coffee. I told him it wasn't time yet to get up, that he needed to get some sleep. Same thing at 6:35am, but he was even more out of it. Again at 7am. I was finally up when his voice literally blared through the monitor at 7:35, so I decided to just get up.

He's trying to be himself, despite his confusion. He knows he's having a hard time remembering things and is more aware because I started feeding him fruit along with graham crackers for breakfast. 

I am trying to help ease the toxins from making their way to his brain, or at least stopping his body from creating more ammonia. But even with these moments of more clarity, I sense that the confusion is only going to get worse...and was warned by the people from the hospital that he will get worse. Even though I've got him taking his meds and watch his fluid intake and everything else that's expected, there's only so much I can do. I get that. 

I just hope that seeing the doc will be more good news rather than bad. 'Hope' being the key word here. Both my Big Brother and myself have a feeling it's not going to be news we want. Even Dad made a comment last night while having one of his more lucid moments, that he had a bad feeling about it and it wasn't because of his normal anxiety and dislike of hospitals. He said it with a very calm tone, one that made something tighten in my chest.

*sighs and has a sudden urge to make another pot of coffee*

Trying to stay upbeat considering everything that's happening. Trying to focus on the good while remembering that sometimes no matter how hard you try, things won't go the way you'd hope. You just gotta look at it in such a way that it's not so devastating. Accept it, roll with it and try to make the best of it even though you know there's something real angry growing inside. You push it down, quell the beast just long enough that when the opportunity presents itself, only then can you let it out and release the poison.

So ya...good times?

*chuckles, but the smile doesn't reach her eyes*

Being close to my Monthly Self Destruct Sequence doesn't help either, but eh... Such is life.

-Adieu

Moments We Fight For

It's amazing that after I posted my most recent blog, I was called into Dad's room and he was More Himself. 

It's baffling... I wonder if perhaps my words actually sank in while he was in his very confused state throughout the night and early morning. 

And just hearing him again, the tone that tells me he's Still There... Loosened something deep inside but also caused another chip to shift and fall away. 

Reminding me that's why I deal with the chaos inflicted by his failing liver. The sleepless nights and arguments that make my head spin and heartache. My Dad is Still Here. Trapped. So all of this madness, the weight bearing down on my breaking sanity... Is worth it. Just for these rare moments when I see my Hero again. 

*swallows the hard lump of emotion that's lodged itself in the back of her throat*

I'll keep fighting to have more moments like this. Those small glimpses of the defiant soul that's wandering helplessly through a terrible fog of confusion. If there's a way we can Save Him, if there's a chance I can Bring Him Back... I'll do it.

I miss him so fucking much... He's not only my Dad, but one of my best friends. 

I thought this needed to be shared considering how dark my last post was...

Nothing is hopeless. Just gotta keep pushing.

There's always a way back from the dark.

-Adieu

Riddled with Emotions

Cold air swells through the crack in the window as I bring my Nightmare Before Christmas thermos to my dry lips and take a drink; flooding my mouth with that strong aroma as hot coffee pours down my throat and spreads an invisible hand of warmth deep within my stomach.

Another day with little sleep, the mind angered and restless as the body aches its protest. Another quick drink of that dark nectar followed by a slow intake of air.

I don't want to be the broken record, conveying yet another rough night due to the disease that's devouring my father's body. The very same demon that's trying to take me with it. 

I feel listless and hollow, standing on a precipice of doubt and heartbreak, wondering when this will end... Wondering if there's a chance in hell he'll ever get the miracle of a liver transplant. Is it too late? The damage he's caused himself, the symptoms he has... It's bad.

Keep your chin up, the mind whispers as the spirit snarls in enraged defiance. A primitive beast that's been forced to crawl its way from the depths of my inner abyss, a mouthful of death waiting to bite down into any obstacle that gets in its way. But frustration streams along its deadly form, unable to do more than growl at the invisible killer that's taking my hero away piece by piece.

*sighs softly and takes another drink of her high octane*

Too many thoughts and not enough time to sort them out and make sense of them all. T'would be better to just become still, push away these feverish emotions and become stone. But the light inside me feeds off the world around it, forcing the empath part of my mind to remain hypersensitive to everything at all times. Especially now. The slightest indication from that baby monitor, no matter how deeply I may be asleep, I'm suddenly and sometimes painfully awake. Every muscle tightens, tendons and ligaments poised to throw me into a leap at any given moment. I'm constantly on edge, even when I'm supposed to be sleeping. The only time I start to relax, even just the slightest, was when Dad was admitted in the Hospital or when he was in the Rehab center. Yet, I wasn't quite at ease. I would still wake up every hour or every twenty minutes thinking I would hear a voice calling out to me in the darkness. 

Is this what being shell-shocked is really like? Constantly on edge, never truly still. Every muscle thrumming, waiting to throw you into a frenzy of movement. Anxious of the slightest sounds, the world becoming so much louder and brighter than ever before... Feeling the Fight or Flight response ruling your every moment.

It's friggin' exhausting. I suppose you can get used to it, but at what cost? What long term effect will this have on my body? Recently I've noticed that my skin condition that's been blissfully calm has started to flare up and I'm finding myself in more pain on a daily basis.

*sighs and shakes her head*

Apologies if I seem less peppy than I used to, but I suppose it's just a phase and it too shall pass. At least that's what I keep telling myself. Best form of encouragement is telling yourself things will get better even though you're trying to put the bloody chunks of your heart back together.

Damn, kinda morbid... *Smirks* Heh, ah well. I don't think it helps that my hormones are starting their monthly count down toward my internal self destruct sequence. I'm not so much moody, I'm more sensitive; lights, sounds, touch, scent, taste, emotion. Everything is amplified, which isn't exactly good times. I feel hurt and it literally feels like a knife being dug into my ribcage. My temper gets triggered and I have to bite back the urge to start growling through my clenched teeth. Volatile...fun fun.

I'm sure being tired doesn't help with any of that, so I try to suck it up as best I can and resume my day as calm as physically possible. I have noticed that my anger has risen to that level where I just become very quiet and speak very clearly and calmly. You know the kind of tone; the one you use when all you want to do is scream. Hey, at least I got a handle on my temper no matter how much I've been pushed recently.

When my Dad gets into those 'confused' moments, he has a tendency to get really nasty. Mean in a way that's like a pre-teen who talks back and makes you want to back hand the smart ass right outta their mouth. I will never raise a hand to my Father out of anger. Period. I literally have to just stand by, keep my mouth securely shut and breathe. He's like a dementia patient that will cuss you out if he thinks you're trying to 'Dictate' his life. He doesn't like being told what to do, what he can eat, when he can sleep and when he can get up. If he were in a lucid state, there would be no problem. He'd be nothing but understanding. But he's not all up there anymore; drowning in that poison is liver can no longer filter out. It's eerily similiar to those days when he'd have one too many beers and take it out on me. For so many years I dealt with it and the next day I'd tell him about it and he'd apologize and would do his damndest to not do it again. I could Talk to him.

Now? Even when I make a gentle, helpful suggestion, he turns on me like I'm some kind of monster. The first few times he told me to 'Fuck off' or 'go the fuck away' or 'fuck you' I just brushed it off because I knew he wasn't in his right mind. But after hearing it more often because he thinks I'm his personal outlet... My patience is wearing thin.

I told him if he doesn't meet me half way, if he doesn't realize all I'm doing is trying to Help him, he's gunna end up with a caretaker that's no where near as patient as me. If he thinks my gentle suggestions are me telling what to do, he'll definitely not like a stranger Making him do what needs to be done.

I love him so very much... It's just hard to want to help someone who's becoming progressively more negative and vile toward you. I know he can't help it, but I don't think it's right for him to constantly call on me every 15-20-30 minutes to an hour because he has something to say...and I'm trying to sleep. You can't reason with someone who's lost the ability to think rationally anymore.

It's heart breaking because this was the hero I could have long and incredibly deep conversations with over a cup of coffee. I'm not hyping it up when I say my father had the mind of a genius. It's hard to admit this and stop the hot sting of tears from falling from my red eyes. I honestly feel as though more of me is breaking inside every day that passes and see what's happening to him.

It's hurts so fucking much...

It feels like I'm being forced to mourn who he was but also watch as he's slowly taken from me. I try to not think about how much this devastates me let alone talk about it. Because since I started writing about this, my face is flushed and I have streams of hot tears pouring down my skin. I miss my Dad so much... I honestly pray that there's a way we could save him.  A liver transplant would give him a full recovery. But I don't know if that's even possible...and he seems to be getting worse and I just want my Dad back...

*wipes the offensive moisture from her face and feels a horrendous weight crushing down inside her ribcage*

Alright, enough of this emotional bullshit. I'll be fine. I need to stop here, dry my face off and go outside and have a smoke. Maybe the cold air will help.

-Anon-

Change in the Wind, Says I...

Sickness, spilling forth, blackened tendrils coiling and slithering through every crevice and every vein until there's nothing left but the echo of yesterday.

I'm at a loss. My Hero is no longer dwelling within this man I call Father. The toxins have taken over his brain and he's drifting on waves of confusion. I miss him with such desperation that my heart is constantly breaking at the thought that only months ago he was still with me. It's devastating when a disease takes hold and you're left helpless to watch as it begins to devour someone you cherish.

*sighs and takes a hefty drink of her coffee*

I imagine that my last blog wasn't completely informative of my intentions. It was a glance of future intentions, not permanent solutions. So apologies if it seemed that way. I was running on very little sleep and my stress levels were beginning to reach their boiling point.

Being here with my Family really and truly has helped. I just needed to adjust myself in such a way that my thoughts and feelings were heard correctly, because I have always had a tendency to bury my personal emotions so as to not worry those I love. Truth be told, things needed to be aired and discussed (mostly on my part because I was so afraid to speak them) only to find that there isn't anything to be fearful of. My emotions, no matter how chaotic, are valid and I've been encouraged to speak them. Definitely an eye opener... *grows a small smile*

Here's the thing; I don't plan on going anywhere. I don't plan on picking up and taking off because the burden is just too great. Heh, fat chance. If that were the case, I would've picked up and left YEARS ago. We've all had to sacrifice our plans, coming together as one unit for the sake of our Father's well being.

No, he's not getting better. Infact, he's getting worse. We all understand this and we're all in this together to make sure he's 'Comfortable'. 

I wasn't able to convey this properly due to the sleep deprivation and constant demands of my ill Father. This is honestly starting to feel like Home to me... I don't feel as lost anymore. I was just so scared that I wasn't doing enough...stupid fears eating away at my brain which was destroying my self confidence and self worth.

After the last post, more had transpired. One, I was able to be open with my Family and much of that invisible weight was lifted. But sadly, Dad's restlessness and confusion only worsened. It had gotten so bad that he was calling to me every 20-30 minutes, constantly changing his mind, fighting with me... It scared me to the point that I was starting to snap. I ended up speaking to a mental health expert via the VA about what was happening and she immediately got on the ball about contacting Dad's Doctor and our Social Worker. I even went ahead and left our social worker a message about what had been happening and I didn't hold back the emotion in my voice. They got back to me right away, scheduled an appointment with Dad's doc at 8am on Thursday the 30th. Not a few hours later, I got another call; his Doc had asked to relay a message for me not to wait, to take dad to the VA Loma Linda's ER right away because he was worried about the confusion.

So I did so and found out Dad's ammonia levels were at 84 (normal levels should be at 40-45) and they wanted to admit him for observation and to get him back to normal.

He was gone Wednesday night, Thursday and was released on Friday. I finally got some sleep. But I was also able to ask them if there was any way he could receive a sleep aid, which they had no problem prescribing to him.

So it's Sunday, and I've managed to get a bit more rest than I have in quite awhile with him being home. But another interesting thing, when I went to pick him up... I noticed that the pj's they had him in, were a deep red color (which even I found odd) and the Navy Corpsman that was his nurse, knew how to deal with Dad without me having to explain anything. He even made a loud comment in a very pleasant voice, "You've been doin' just fine on your own but as soon as she gets here, you're helpless." It loosened something in my chest hearing that. They could see how he changes when I'm around.

But here's the thing about those PJ's that I was informed about. Those are specifically for patients who have 'mental issues' and are easier to find if they go wandering off. 

*sighs softly and takes another drink of her coffee*

More good has come out of this, because of my reaching out to them for help, they are ready to send out a nurse to evaluate everything that he'll need (as well as a dietitian) and also to provide us with a caregiver to come out 3 days a week, for about 3-4 hours at a time. I am beyond grateful for the help.

What struck me as odd, is that once he came home from the Rehabilitation center, a nurse came out and did her thing and the next thing we know he's got a physical therapist nurse, an occupational nurse, and we even had a social worker come out. I figured they were all connected to the VA. Apparently they weren't, because they were assigned by brookside (the rehab) and not the VA. I was told to close the case with them so we could receive help directly through the VA that know his case personally and can give him the care he actually needs.

So ya...good times. *smirks*

It's a struggle, knowing that he's only going to continue to get worse and the only thing I and my Family can do is just be there for him as best as we can. As much as there is that panicked voice screaming in the back of my thoughts to take off and run, I've pretty much kicked it into a dark cage and dropped into the eternal abyss of my soul. 

Sure it hurts, but he's still my Dad. I can't explain it anymore than that. I've just gotta figure out a few other things, Medi-cal and the like because I know for a fact he's going to need 24 hour care and I won't be able to do it alone as the weeks pass. It would be a gorramed miracle if he became more himself again, but I see that everytime he goes through a really confused period, more of him is swallowed by this disease and I feel a piece of me break off and fade away.

*shakes her head and drinks more coffee*

I may not be able to go out anymore (until I can get more help with Dad) but I can have friends visit. And right now, I could definitely use the company. Just be sure to give me a day's warning so I can let the Family know :)

And on that note... I need me some more coffee, a tiny bit of vedge time while Dad rests because I don't really get the chance to sit anymore. I could when he goes to sleep at night, but than I'd never be able to rest.

Yay for a two-edged sword :P

-Adieu

The Levee Breaks and the Sanity Spills Away

The ache digs razor like claws into the shredded remains of a defiant heart as the fragile strings of an exhausted mind fights for some kind of normalcy. Nothing is as it seems, the scars rise along pale flesh in red welts of harsh lessons not easily forgotten. There is no escaping the void as it narrows its gaze on the weakness; the tortured spirit desperate for just a moment's peace.

Little to say, words strangled in the back of the throat, vocal chords torn from the swallowed screams of frustration that echo maddeningly through the hollow crevices of an overactive brain. Even the whispers have lost their battle with the crimson rage that coils around every thought and emotion. Nothing remains of the soul that once lived to bring warmth to all those in its path. Ashes of an innocence used up and thrown away.

I speak in gentle poetry in the hopes that a keen eye will read my cryptic prose and understand the message hidden within these playful lines. Though, I'd imagine this isn't exactly the most pleasant rambling I've written... There is pain here, fear, exhaustion, and the feeling of being completely lost.

There are hungry shadows lining this broken path. Withered and weak, the emptiness fights to swallow the last hint of light glowing defiantly within these secret depths. Hardship a continuous theme, unable to reach out, and beg for redemption as the chains that keep it pinned, lie sleeping just out of sight.

Trembling footsteps echo their descent into madness by the bloody foot prints they leave behind. Not a word nor whisper of hope. Nothing but the cold black to keep you company.

Be Stronger.

Be Better.

Grow Up.

Failure is Not an option.

Worthless.

These words are weapons, cutting and slicing the fragmented pieces of a dying spirit. There is no resolution to this living nightmare. Bleed out the screams that shred the silence. Black poison filling the veins, making a void where innocence once lived. Fluttering fireflies of thought swallowed by a living abyss. They know me here...welcome me with their cold embrace. They whisper sweetly, calling to me...

"Sink into the shadows and let us embrace you. Be one of us...so very close now..."

Tempted is the weary being to welcome that empty void. Those emotionless words seeming almost peaceful. A place to finally be still...

To finally rest.

-*-*-*-

*smirks and takes a chug of her Monster*

Goin' on Day Three of barely any sleep. SSDD would be the term to use in this situation; Same Shit Different Day.

I'm fuckin' exhausted and had a mini melt down early this morning when I was called to again for the up-teenth time. Eh, whatever. Not important. I just look as ugly as I feel, which is rather fitting to be honest. *grows an unpleasant smile*

Only good thing about today was talking to one of Dad's nurses who came out for a short time. She was incredibly helpful about getting me information on finding a caregiver that can come out when I need to go to the store and run errands without having to worry about Dad. And I can have them come out for an hour at the shortest. All I'd need during the week, is maybe a two to three hour span to get shit done and I believe we can afford it.

Here's my biggest emotional road block;

Dad is Completely Dependent on Me. Even when he has someone watching over him, he starts asking for me. It's always Me. It's always been Me. Because I've been the Only One to be there for him for the past 13 years. Let that sink in for a second. Even when I'd moved out for a short time, I made a point to come out and visit him, or I'd call him during my breaks at work while I was living in Orange County. Why? Because we've always been close. He was one of the Most important Men in my life. Period. I thought I was doing the right thing by being close, by being there when he needed someone. Now I realize that he abused that privilege.

Gotta love emotional control and guilt trips when it's too close to your face to even realize it's happening.

After awhile, I had been the Replacement for the friends he no longer really spoke to. He made me the only person he spoke to on a daily basis. He became dependent on me and made it as hard as possible for me to just pick up and leave. For so long I stayed close and lived with him because I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn't want to abandon him. He's my Father, why would I do such a thing?

Now...it's a very different situation. This gorramed sickness has taken my Hero from me and I'm left with the echoes of who he used to be. It's rare when I catch a glimpse of my Dad... Because not more than a few minutes later, that monster that's embedded itself in his brain is suddenly glaring back at me and I know it's smiling in victory. That poison that he drank for all those years brought a monster to life and it finally has its hooks in him... Leaving me powerless as it tangles his thoughts and he goes after me verbally like he used to when he drank too much.

He hasn't touched a single drop of alcohol since last May...but it was too late. Like a virus it wriggled its way through his system and finally latched onto his brain.

The best course of action is to get a caregiver to relieve me for a few hours a day, get him a sleep aid (also via his request; if it's important, he does remember.) and push the VA to help me look into a pension I believe he deserves for serving during a time of war. It doesn't matter if it isn't much, it's something AND they can help us with home care and the like.

For him to stay home and get the care he's entitled without the likes of a nursing home, I'm going to literally need a staff to help me take care of him. If I can get one caregiver that he can connect to, the more that person is around and the safer my Dad feels, the less he'll depend solely on me. Selfish of me to finally admit, but this will not be my life. I will do everything in my power to see that he's taken care of and that things will be set up to where I'm really no longer needed. 

I need to get out on my own and I will, once I can figure everything out. Because it's not just my Father I'm concerned with. I need to make sure everyone involved will be okay too. That things will run smoothly without me. The pressure of it all is too heavy a burden for me to carry on my own. I've given serious thought to suicide because of how worthless this has made me feel since last February. That scared the hell out of me. I can't leave everything behind when I just started to get my feet on terra-firma. So no matter how screwed up I am inside, I'm going to figure out a viable plan that will ensure my Father's well being is taken care of, and that finances are made to run smoothly. Once this is all established and I know things are on the right path, I can collect what little I have left and begin my life. I'm not saying I'll abandon him and my family *scoffs* that obviously isn't an option. What I am saying, is that I need to be my own person. I need to 'Grow Up'. I've basically been taking care of my Dad since I was 17 years old. I'm now 30. I think I'm allowed to make some decisions pertaining to My Life.

But first things first; get Dad a sleep aid so he can actually Rest during the night. His Body and his Mind desperately need the rest so he can actually heal. Once that's established, I start pressing the VA about a possible Pension he earned while serving during a time of War. He was in Service from 66-71, which was during Vietnam. 

*sighs softly and pinches the bridge of her nose; eyes aching from how swollen they've become due to lack of sleep and crying so hard this morning*

I want things to get better. I want my Dad to feel better and more like himself. But not at the cost of my sanity. I can't take care of him if I can barely take care of myself. Get him setup with the best care at home, while also making sure my Brother and his family have little to stress over and than I can think about getting out on my own.

Sure I've got a late start, but better late than never *gives a small smile* I'm trying to find Hope in all of this madness... Trying to stay positive. It's incredibly hard, but I'm not willing to give up. Not yet.

-Adieu

Trials of Resolve and Restraint

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Restlessness

Music swells gently behind the computer monitor as my fingers dance gracefully along these black keys. I'm existing on broken sleep and strong coffee; the rich aroma a small comfort as my body aches from inadequate rest.

Though Dad's showing some improvement, every day is a series of small battles and I've found that I no longer react out of exhaustion induced frustration, I simply remain calm...an empty state of being to help contain the last of my sanity as the internal wounds of my heart continue to bleed out.

I try not to think about the fact that my home is gone. Yes, it may have been four walls, but those walls held the energy of my childhood; containing the moments I cherished the most. It was the last part of my past to be taken away from me. I never thought that it would be gone like this. Both my big brother and myself figured Dad would always be there; that was home. We never thought Dad would get sick like this. But that's life for you; it happens when you're planning something else.

There's a deep ache resonating somewhere within my depths that I can't quite pin point no matter how hard I try to seek it out. The closer I get, the quicker it fades and emerges somewhere else; pulling me further down the rabbit hole.

*lets out a soft sigh and takes a hefty drink from her Nightmare Before Christmas Thermos*

It's strange, this place I'm drifting in emotionally. I suppose it's just another form of depression, when things have become too much and you can do nothing more than adjust and become still. Internally, I'm screaming... So much Rage, resentment and frustration from everything I've been faced with. A severe form of tunnel vision...and it narrows to a pinpoint, directly at my Father. I want him to get better more than anything, but not at the cost of my own sanity. 

There's so much I could write...but where the hell do I start? And how would it help anything? Yes, it is my personal escape and allows me to release some of the poison swelling in my veins, but I don't know if I can get everything out properly. 

*lets out another sigh and growls softly at herself*

The severity of my Father's condition means I have to be even More on Watch; literally 24/7. I don't sleep through the night because not only does he wake me via baby monitor or cell phone, but I've unconsciously trained myself to wake at the slightest indication that he needs me. I am constantly on alert, which may explain my growing exhaustion even when I do get a few hours of rest. Even now as I type these words, the anxiousness trickles and thrums along my spine, keeping me painfully alert that at a moment's notice, I have to be on my feet and head over to my Dad's room.

And since we've moved into a much larger home, I have to really be on alert. Though he's much stronger than before, he's still so very frail and I cannot allow him to hurt himself. Even though his bedroom is right next to our bathroom at the other side of the house, I have to be there just to make sure he gets from his room to the bathroom and back again. It's not that we don't trust him to be able to do so on his own, he still has moments of confusion and will lose his balance. So I'm just there as more of a sentinel than anything else... Which can range between midnight and 3am when I'm trying to sleep.

Also, due to the moments of confusion...he tends to get mean and I mean Real Mean. I don't even fight him anymore, there's no point. He gets angry and takes it out on me and I have to simply take it, even though on the inside I'm falling apart. I honestly don't know how much more I can take. I love him very much, but I'm trapped doing everything he wants whenever he wants. And don't get me started on when I ask him to do something (because it's via Nurse or the Doc's request) and he gets all kinds of irrate. This is daily. And I rarely have a moment to just drive down to the Gas Station (which is less than two minutes away) for whatever reason, because I have to keep an eye on him.

Everyone has a job in this house, and mine is to simply take care of Dad. Which wouldn't be all that bad if he was of Sound Mind. He isn't and it's starting to really weigh down on me. I've mentioned getting him a caregiver just from Friday through Sunday so I can atleast have my weekends. It's a fantastic idea, but I've gotta figure out how that's going to happen and if we're going to have to pay for it and if so, how much that's gunna cost us. 

*rubs her eyes and lets out a growl between clenched teeth when a sound gets her attention over the com and she has to race to her father's room.--Returns looking a bit more worn out than before*

It's days like this that make me wish I had more money so I could have a nurse with him at all times; even when he's sleeping. Some days he's very coherent, very much like his old self. Than there are days like this where he wakes me up every hour through the night because of his confusion and in the morning he's so discombobulated (because his body is trying to rest but something in his brain isn't firing off right and wakes him up) and he ends up very confused in the morning before eventually falling asleep for a few hours.

It's a little scary sometimes because (he's done this in the past and not so much recently) he'd start wandering around if his body is strong enough and he won't tell me. When I gently request that he just announce he's getting up next time, it's a war and I get verbally attacked for it. It's less than before (which is seriously a good thing) but it's very stressful. Just now when I ran off... Dad had rolled over to the point that he almost fell off the bed. He didn't thank the gawds, but his legs were dangling off and I managed to pick him up and sit him up safely. He's alright, but due to the confusion, when he's half asleep, he's literally Half Asleep and I have to gently get him to lay back down so he can rest. I don't want to keep him in bed, I want him up and around. But when he's in this state, he needs to get another hour or so of rest and he'll be more himself when he wakes up. So hopefully in about an hour he'll be all peppy and I can get him into the living room for some breakfast and coffee and maybe get him to watch something with me and the monsters.

*takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly* It's been rough, but what's new? There's still so much coiled up inside of me but I'm going to save that for another time. Just a little at a time or I'm afraid the levee will break and I'll flood this blog with chaos. Last thing I want to do is make everyone drown in my personal crazy :P

And on that note, I shall bid thee anon and go have s'more coffee and a smoke before Dad calls from me again.

-Adieu