It does not get any easier ............
call yesterday.........he fell, did not get hurt.
Nutritionist talking to us
Alzheimer nurse too
questions about when they will take different measures to get him to eat.
His wish would be not to prolong this and we have the paperwork in order for that.
He is losing 1 1/2 lbs a week now. at 126lbs right now, in march before I broke my ankle he was 145.
They say he is also more violent.
He sat with his eyes closed, looked up slightly from the side of his bowed head and took my hands and held on.
Rubbing his back hurts me, it is all bones sticking out.
He then put his hands on this back as to make a cushion there.
Nurse said he is not in pain, I think he is what does she know.
They had short sleeves on him, he is always wearing long sleeves, he is always cold so we changed him.
He has a new room mate, a luny bin, sorry, named Moe.
I am angry, I am hurting, I do not know how to handle all the emotions right now.
Zack came with us. He is a big boy with a soft heart. It looked like he was afraid to touch this tiny man.
Paper work finally in order, more costs for lawyer.
I am a rag today.
Bobby started to show me the beginning of the film....basterds.
The first scene at the Frenchman's house became my film, the girls looking out from the clothe line and see them coming, the interrogation became my story. I may sound like a drama queen but the film totally changed to me standing there, the house being searched, drawers being opened , men with ugly faces, ugly uniforms, men I had learned to hate.
Me standing there looking at the regulator clock, knowing my dad's gun is in the bonnet of the clock.
If they find that, I was told, we will all die immediately.
My 8 or 9 years have not taught me that I should not stare at danger.
The sound of the boots on our bare wood steps are loud. Their language is loud. I hate it.
Father is talking in German to them, my mother is frozen near the stove, rubbing her hands or folding her arms.
Her eyes get grey when she is angry, they are almost black now. I worry when I see that look, it is usually for my benefit when I did something wrong.
They leave satisfied that there is nothing here and they did not like this house to move into.
My father, a cop, (without weapons during the war) must have done some fast talking. He knows them, he was 7 when they invaded Belgium and his father was taken as a prisoner, leaving his mother with 8 children and no food.
He had learned early to steal in their camp and bring food home. He knew too much about them.
The day at the nursing home, the lawyer, the doctor, now the beginning of the movie and I was, am still, a total wreck. While this is going on in my old head my child is having issues in her marriage and can't stop crying.
I go to bed wondering why I had to stay alive, I was in real danger for so many years, so were my parents. They managed to end their lives in peace and quiet and some contentment.
I just do not like the way mine is going right now. I am fucked up today, plain english just fucked up and fed up.