It happened again...this sleeping with my hands balled into fists has to be anger! Obviously the injustice and the disdain felt toward this horrendous disease claiming our Father, piece by piece, day by day. Some where, deep inside my subconscious, it feels like it crashes and slams into my consciousness, creating this powerful force of outrage. I feel it is a warning...
The last two days Dad has sounded extremely weary and worn out. He has refused his medication. All he talks about is getting out of there. I hate that I am starting to doubt the nursing home is the best place for him. I am second-guessing our decision...
So why am I sleeping with fists? Is it feeling guilty for having all this free time on my hands but not able to spend it with my Father? Is my subconscious telling me Dad needs to get out of there? What does our Dad have to have this damn disease?? IT IS NOT FAIR!!!
It makes me sick to my stomach that Dad is separated from us, struggling and living against his will in a nursing home! I can't help feeling so insensitive and without compassion. How can we not listen to our beloved Father? Are we being naive? Is the doctor advising the right treatment for Dad? Part of me wants to drive down there, sneak him out and bring him home!
I miss Dad. I'm glad we had those six days at home before I found him on the living room floor. I miss being close with my family and siblings. I miss my daughters. I miss my grandsons. I am lonesome. I feel misplaced. I wish I could ask my husband to quit his job so we could sell our home, despite today's market and move back to California...
I have always been a "people person" and am more energized around my friends and family... And now, I find myself in major solitude with little interaction from others, except for a wave or hello from a neighbor when getting the mail and when my husband comes home after an exhausting day at work.
Maybe its not feeling needed... I did feel like I was doing something important when I was researching and calling around to find a place for Dad. I did feel like I was doing something worthwhile when I was helping Dad at home.
If I brought Dad here, could I keep him safe? What if he refused his medication and continued to hallucinate? What if he got agitated and violent? What if he wandered away at night? Would I jeopardize our marriage? Reality check. I know I can't.
I just called my sister to check on her visit with Dad. She would not even discuss it. Her tone of voice told me it was bad... She said she would email me later tonight...
Maybe I am sensing another emotional tsunami...something bad is brewing and my instincts are kickin' in...Is it a preparation? A premonition?
It is difficult to concentrate on anything lately. In times like these, my frustration and loss of control is getting the better of me. Even in my sleep, rest eludes me as my subconscious battles with the anger and injustice raging within me...Lord, please, fill our Father with Your peace.
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