loveyourselffool

[loveyourselffool]

I killed my dad. Maybe not directly, or maybe it was.  He was diagnosed with Stage 4 Lung Cancer in February 2020. For a long time, he never felt the diagnosis, he was still golfing 18 holes up until the end of June. Clearly, my dad wasn’t sick enough yet for me to care for him 24/7, but he also had random appointments or tests here and there. I was very stressed and overwhelmed at trying to balance the new grad life, and being the perfect daughter. Inadvertently, I couldn’t keep up with both. With some resentment, I stayed casual for a while even though I stubbornly and secretly wanted more. I was offered line after line, and the managers seemed to take a liking to me. With much angst, I felt like I was thriving and enjoying the fruits of my labour. As in, finally appreciating the fact and feeling prideful that I graduated from Nursing even though I never had my parent’s support, and I was reminded of that day and night. Anyhow, I stayed casual so I could make every single appointment and test. We say it was for “translation” but my mom’s English is beyond basic. Looking back, I don’t resent being there for tests or appointments, if anything, I regret feeling even the slightest craving to start my career at that time.

My mom was very displeased that I continued to work casually (secretly I think it’s more because I actually graduated from Nursing), she never understood how much importance everyone puts on your first year of Nursing. I enjoyed working, it was always a learning opportunity, but also an escape. Starting in July, my dad’s symptoms finally became apparent. That was when I knew that I needed to take a real break from work. He couldn’t sleep in his bed anymore as the tumour or nodules prevented him from laying fully prone. I bought him an expensive and comfortable recliner that he started to sleep in every night, in the family room. Eventually, along with the pain, he started to develop respiratory issues as fluid would continuously fill his lungs requiring him to get frequent Thoracentesis procedures. My dad had always been a very reliant and needy person, merging that with the strong doses of steroids, his demands and fears became increasingly more exigent. It also created severe panic attacks at night where he would wake up screaming for help. I’m guessing it is from feeling like you’re drowning inside out. 

Since mid July, I started to sleep downstairs in the family room with him, on the floor while he was in the recliner. I was able to calm his anxiety and meltdowns, but it only allowed me to have 2-3 hours of sleep every night. Due to the pain and his consistent need to smoke in the garage/outside, he would wake up every 2 hours or so. Understandably, when he struggled to sleep, he would want the company to listen to him talk about his past. For some reason, this was always at 3 AM. Fortunately, or unfortunately, I’ve always had poor sleeping habits so I could still function with the lack of sleep. I would have quick short naps throughout the day whenever I could. When we made it to August, I was lucky to even get 2 hours of sleep overnight. His attacks worsened, both frequency and severity. He started to require oxygen and Hydromorphone to help calm his respirations. My mom was hesitant to start medications, but with doctor’s and specialist’s persuasion, she was willing to try. My dad grew weaker as the days went by. With my small medical experience (I say that because I just graduated and felt like I hardly picked up enough), I tried to give sound advice or help gather the proper equipment that I felt would benefit my dad. My mom and I got into arguments daily because she didn’t feel like my judgement was trustworthy enough - fair enough though.  His gait got weaker, I would have to wheel him to the garage while juggling his oxygen so that he could take his few puffs of nicotine. He couldn’t really stand anymore without human assistance. Palliative care got involved near the end of August, only because I was passing out in the room during my dad’s appointments, and the oncologist saw. Palliative care wasn’t helpful, I’m sure it is highly beneficial for others but it was basically useless for us. The palliative care team asked us what we needed help with, we responded that there wasn’t really much to help with as I was doing everything. I bathed him, fed him, and basically provided care 24/7. It’s not like my mom and I had to work, so even if they took over the care - we wouldn’t have just moved forward with our lives. They weren’t permitted to stay overnight for more than 4-6 hours, but they received special instructions that they could remain for 8 hours every night for my dad. Thus, allowing me to get more rest at night. That didn’t work though. My dad’s panic attacks were so bad by that time that even my mom and I had a progressively difficult time calming him down. So having a stranger in the home did nothing, I still slept downstairs on the floor getting 2-3 hours a night maybe. The nurses could administer Hydromorphone SQ... but I can do that too. And I was already doing that. My mom liked detailed administration notes of exact time, dosage, reasons why he needed it etc. So naturally, everyone including the care team felt better if I just continued with the administrations. 

By the end of August, my dad was also starting to develop delirium. He was quite obviously confused, sometimes, he wouldn’t even make sense anymore. They think it might be from the Hydromorphone, since he’s never taken narcotics before. I always had my sleeping area set up closer to the fireplace so it was out of the way and he wouldn’t trip over me when we had to get up to the bathroom or for a smoke.  Come September, on a Monday at like 3 AM... I woke up to crying...screaming? I can’t even remember, but I woke up. And I immediately look at the recliner to find my dad missing. I’ll never forget that feeling, my heart dropped. I was tired. I had fallen asleep, even though I was trying to stay awake. The past few days, he was presenting with even more confusion and I was scared. But it always comforted me that my dad couldn’t get up on his own and walk. He had to juggle his oxygen, grab his walker and he always woke me up if he needed to get up. He would say my name (I’m a light sleeper) or just nudge me with his foot. That thinking was the biggest mistake of my life. I found my dad laying in a fetal position near the front door. I don’t even know how long I screamed for. My dad was on/off confused, but he was able to say that he was “trying to go to the bathroom upstairs, but got tired and had to sit on the ground”. He hasn’t been upstairs in months... The palliative care team came to access him right away. They found no apparent or visible injuries, and everyone believed that he really just sat on the ground. Everyone but me, and my mom. I begged them to do an x-ray or CT scan or anything to prove that he fell and I was 100% at fault. They didn’t. The only reason we knew he even stood up on his own and adjusted his walker properly was because of the doggie cam we had for Momo. I’ll never forget my mom’s look. Shame, disappointment, hate.. but she never said anything to me. 

The rest of the days leading up to his passing is a blur. After his fall, I felt more inclined to stay awake. It also helped that anytime I did fall asleep, I immediately got nightmares of my dad falling so I was terrified to close my eyes. I even tied my wrist to his ankle so I would know when he was trying to un-recline his chair. I don’t know why the thought didn’t occur to me earlier, but I finally was smart enough to get my dad a hospital bed rental in the home. We already knew from the start, and at my dad’s request, that hospice wasn’t an option for him. As soon as he was in the hospital bed in the family room, he got more comfortable which made him more drowsy. It scared all of us, but had a significant impact on my mom. The palliative team restarted their overnight care with us after the fall, especially since the nurse saw my guilt and self resentment. On the night of his passing, he was having a really bad panic attack and respiratory distress so as ordered by the doctor, I was told to try Midazolam. My mom was with me, (Ruby wasn’t really ever at home and when she was, she wasn’t in view of my dad much - she couldn’t handle it) we ... I couldn’t decide if Midazolam was a good idea. I explained to my mom that I know Midazolam makes you sleepy, and basically very drowsy but it would calm him down enough to let him rest. My mom was hesitant but I gently advised that I thought it would be best, I think I made a quick, rash decision as it was distressful seeing my dad thrashing about. Well, after I administered Midazolam and my mom went upstairs to shower... my dad passed. The nurse passed me their stethescope and told me to verify. I wasn’t processing anything, and was in a robot state of mind - so I didn’t realize how traumatizing and destructive that was to my mental health.  I was shaking so badly, and confused, and scared. I had to go upstairs to tell my mom, and no matter how much I drink, I can never forget how that went or her cries after or her fists banging on my chest screaming why I gave him Midazolam. The first person I ever pronounced was my dad. The first time I gave Midazolam to someone was to my dad. The first fall I ever experienced was my dad’s. It was a lot of firsts. I never forgave myself, I never will. I truly think the fall inherently killed him. And if it wasn’t the fall, then it was the Midazolam. And it doesn’t really matter which one it was because I was the cause of both. 

I always wished that I was the one laying in the bed sick, and not my dad. The only reason why I stayed alive was for my sister, because I owed her so much. (I ran away when things got bad at home, and have also never forgave myself for that because I left my sister). I promised to live for her and to never leave her alone again. Over the years, I tried to fix myself, to heal. I tried therapy, I tried drinking my problems away, nothing truly worked. I got “better”, the grief got “easier.” and my mom and I got “closer.” But the guilt never leaves. I hate myself. I don’t know why I never saw it. I don’t know why I never thought that a delirious person would get up to walk. I don’t know why I didn’t call the palliative nurse to inquire more about Midazolam before administering it. This trip has been significantly challenging, my mom hasn’t been coping well. We’ve been getting into bad fights, she finally admitted that she thinks I killed my dad and I didn’t make the appropriate decisions. In retrospect though, I don’t know if I could have done anything differently to change it. 

[loveyourselffool]

Dad, I miss you.

[loveyourselffool]

It’s been more than a year and still, you think I’m a child who can’t even handle something as small as blowing snow. It feels bad when she doesn’t have to do anything and still gets everything I get, but when I go beyond and do the extra - what do I earn? Disrespect, no trust and always having to check up on my work. What’s the point of doing more and being good. Being better? 

[loveyourselffool]

April 4 

promised myself I wouldn’t

but it’s so funny that it never actually ends

sorry you have to babysit me, and I didn’t disrespect your cousin

it’s good to know you always have my back

[loveyourselffool]

Why do this to yourself?

1) Oct 18 - doesn’t care about the room, doesn’t care about things that don’t have to do with him, like the new home

2) Oct 20 - hung up without saying anything, doesn’t think it matters to hang up without telling the other person, didn’t pick up twice, was busy

3) Oct 21 - honestly give up, sorry for bothering you.

4) Nov 4 - asked for opinions about replacing truck for genesis. Got mad, didn’t want to talk, says I don’t understand anything, I’m demeaning.

[loveyourselffool]

I told you things don’t change, stupid girl.

[loveyourselffool]

Can I stay with you and just grow old with you.

[loveyourselffool]

1) don’t repeat yourself, ever.

2) don’t keep talking when he’s already done talking.

3) if he’s not listening, you went too far.

[loveyourselffool]

Camping isn’t romantic

[loveyourselffool]

You did this to yourself

Why do you keep speaking up, where did this stupid confidence come from. Why do you tell him things, when you know he doesn’t give a fuck

Why do you always do this to yourself. Why do you always find someone who tricks you into thinking they give any damns about you.

You don’t matter. Nothing in this life was ever about you. But you got your hopes up, and now look at where you are again...

Rock bottom.

[loveyourselffool]

Why are you two even together

Oh right, I know why, cos you always win

[loveyourselffool]

Silly girl,

You know that you’re always too optimistic for your own good. You knew that nothing actually changes and that you’re always just giving the benefit of the doubt. Like he said he doesn’t care, he doesn’t listen... you could say all the dumb bullshit you want and he will give you a “cool”. You know that you’re getting yourself worked up for no reason. Shit never changes. You know that when he’s tired, he’s tired and he doesn’t fucking need you. He doesn’t care if your dad is getting worse and you’re emotionally invested in spending time with him to make it worth. He doesn’t care, yet you do. He will start snoring and you’ll lay there and feel pathetic and stupid for being here. He was working, why do you bother trying to talk to him.

He does all this and you still let him touch you. You still compare yourself and act like you’re not enough. He treats you like this and you still have to pretend and keep your chin up. He acts like this and you still have to turn to one side and cry, grow up... man up. You don’t need him.

[loveyourselffool]

1) peeing, didn’t hear no, carefree, not pissed, be more like Helen, impressing Vincent

[loveyourselffool]

He literally has no clue why you’re bipolar

Why half of you wants to leave.

Why the other half of you just pretends to stay.

[loveyourselffool]

“yeah, go ahead and throw a bitch tantrum again and delete me.”

“Bipolar, nut case”

See, its never him. I threw the tantrum, even though he was the one to turn everything off haha.

How did I get involved with another storm 2.0

[loveyourselffool]

You break up because you’re hurt.

He calls it your retard move, nor does he even think he’s remotely wrong... or that any actions could justify or warrant a break up.

This guy is actually clueless and his ego is the size of his balls.

[loveyourselffool]

Here’s another new low

Says he will study with you.

Starts to study with you

Then when you wait for him to ask a question

He asks you what you’re doing, you tell him you’re waiting for him to ask a question

He flips shit and yells “you can study on your fucking own.”

Then signs off everything.

You message him, he ignores it.

You call him, he ignores it.

Then you reach him - per usual, he answers with 1 word repetition and doesn’t give a flying fuck what you say to him.

Great.

I love being with someone who is so caring.

Who I can rely on.

Who will help me no matter what.

Im honestly done.

This is just a new low.

Why are you putting up with this shit.

Who cares if you’re alone forever.

Stop trying to be more pathetic for him.

He literally ditched you because he’s throwing a temper.