Ohhh Lord…

So yeah…sitting up and awake at nearly two-thirty in the morning, pillow between my back and the chair on which I sit, because that’s about the only bit of relief from the pain.  Neither the Ibuprofen or the Tylenol I’ve taken (hours apart, mind you) have done anything to alleviate the pain.   I think I may have dislocated something in my right arm trying to lie down; the limb has pain and tingling going on.  That’s in addition to the extreme shoulder and chest pain.

It’ll be a few hours more before my paycheck is automatically deposited to my bank account.  I’d call for an ambulance, but I don’t want to wake my bat-shit crazy landlord.  So I have to wait until I have the money in my account for bus fare to the E.R.  I don’t think I’m having a heart attack; I don’t think I’d be conscious at this point if I were.

It’s allergy season and I dread coughs and sneezes, for those send waves of stabbing pain through my chest and upper arms.  Oh Lord, all I want is for this pain to end.  I want to lie in my bed and sleep the sleep of the just without sheering agony.

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Barely Mobile

Since Monday night/Tuesday morning, I’ve been experiencing excruciating agony in my shoulders and chest.  This started when the weather began turning colder.  I’ve had this happen before: last November and December, it occurred, and prior to that, November 2008.

It starts with pain in my shoulder blades, that area, and shoots through my entire upper chest — arms are affected, too.  The slightest movement sends waves of pain through me.  When I sneezed earlier (twice), it had me hurting so bad I seriously contemplated calling 911 for an ambulance.

Obviously, I haven’t been in to work because of this.  I can’t take anything more than baby steps because to move any more quickly is to invite harsher pain.  I had an appointment tomorrow at CSU’s career services center to get my resume updated, but I’m probably going to have to cancel in order to go to the emergency room.  Regular, over-the-counter pain medications haven’t helped at all.

This keeps happening with greater frequency.  I’m afraid of what it means for my continued employability.  What am I to do?

Update

Friday, 12th September, 2014 was my Dad’s seventy-sixth birthday.  My Aunt Kathy took me to see him after I got out of work.  This was in spite of someone’s edict to stay away, but neither Aunt Kathy or I were in a mood to care.  It’s long past time Dad and I reconciled, so last Friday I was given the chance to do it.

When we got there to the intensive care unit (I.C.U.), Dad was being looked after by the nurse.  He has pneumonia on top of having had his leg amputated.  His lungs are flooded with fluid and he has choking tubes coming out of his mouth, nose, and arms.  Every few minutes, as the tubes try to drain the excess fluid from his lungs, he starts to choke.  The doctors put a trachea tube in him on Monday or Tuesday.

Dad’s left arm was swollen up so bad it looked half way to bursting.  He’s very weak, very frail.

And each and every moment I’m not there with him, I wonder if he’s still alive.

Aunt Kathy told Dad something to the effect that life is way too short for grudges, and she and my cousin Lily left the two of us alone so I could say my piece.  He says I’m okay to come visit, so I hope what I had to say went a way toward putting us on better terms.

I went in to visit him today, but could only stay for a couple of minutes because he was very tired and needed to rest.  I asked his nurse for an update on his health, but couldn’t get much out of her because apparently I need a password in order to learn what all is going on with him, and since I don’t know it, that means I can only learn so much.  Dammit.

 

Bracing for the Inevitable

So yeah, I got an e-mail from my Aunt Kathy today informing me of the latest round of bad news about my father.  He has pneumonia and his lungs are shot to hell.  He’s on breathing tubes, and the doctors are talking about inserting a trachea so he can breathe a little bit easier.  But apparently the prognosis isn’t looking good.

Amputated leg, pneumonia, and now this.  How much more does the man have to endure?  Friday shall be his seventy-sixth birthday—if he makes it that long.

So much I want to say to him, to tell him I forgive him, but most especially, to let him know that, despite everything, I do still love him.

Rationalizing Doing Nothing

So yeah, it didn’t take long for David’s “friend” to send him a link to my blog, which by the way he subscribes to (I get the e-mail Word Press sends me every time someone subscribes, and I took a screen capture of your subscription).

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Now come the excuses for letting her get away with forging our father’s signature.

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Okay, David, you know forgery is illegal—in this case it’s a felony under Ohio law.  You were a dispatcher for Cleveland Police and Cuyahoga County Sheriff’s Department.  You know you have a duty to report a crime.  You know your “mother” is a violent, abusive sociopath who tried to kill your father through neglect.  Yet she’s still free, still doing whatever the hell she wants without consequence.  Why?  Because you’re too chicken-shit to do what needs to be done.

Furthermore, it’s because you, your mother, and our father tossed me out to face homelessness and death on the streets that I am unable to assume any legal or caretaking responsibilities for our father, and for no other reason than I refused to let your mother physically assault me without consequence (I called the police on the bitch, which is more than you ever seem to do), so spare me your baloney.

Now comes the attacks on me.

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This from someone who refuses to get a job and uses his mental illness as an excuse for being unemployed.  Again, spare me your baloney.  At least I have a job and actively seek employment.  And again with the ignorant, projecting assertions.  There’s nothing complicated about where I work.  My boss doesn’t know how to properly run a business.  It really is as simple as that.  All my co-workers have the exact same opinion.  Are we all engaging in some kind of delusional conspiracy theorizing?  No.  We merely see what’s plainly obvious.  I’m amazed at your hate-driven stupidity sometimes.

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Ooh, he wants proof!  Here it is, liar-boy.  It’s way too easy to pwn you, you know.

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Now, as to your false assumptions, let me clarify some things, since you’re too stupid to comprehend them.

1.) Aunt Kathy told me Steve wanted to reconcile.  I wasn’t very keen on the idea, but you know how insistent she can be, and after six years I figured it was time to see if I could finally get at the truth.  So I sent Steve a message on Facebook asking him for his side of things.  I wasn’t convinced, especially when he turned the whole conversation into an extended diatribe against our oldest niece and finished up by implying through certain statements that he somehow has authority to dictate what I can and can’t say, and that I somehow don’t have the mental capacity to understand what it is I say.  Needless to say, I wasn’t impressed.  I got in touch with Mallory and told her what her father was saying about her, because I felt she deserved to know.  That’s it.  I don’t know where you get off assuming I’m somehow trying to “buddy up” to people simply by providing information I thought they should know, but as always, you’re jumping to conclusions.

2.) Aunt Kathy has taken me to see our father on a few occasions, and I did speak to him a bit.  Not much, because much of what I have to say to him is between the two of us and not for audiences, but I did speak to him.  At any rate, it’s none of your business, boy.  You never had and will never have any authority over me to be dictating what I do or don’t do, and you gave up all right to be angry over anything I say or do in my own defense a long time ago.  It’s yourself you should be angry with, for being a lying, bullying, stalking, abusive, violent asshole like your mother.

3.) Why would I not question what you say, given your propensity for lying?  Aunt Kathy said you didn’t have your facts straight when I spoke with her on the phone about our father’s amputation.  As it turns out, you were right, and I admitted that on my blog, which you know full well having read it.

4.) You’re a fine one to complain about my reading your posts from time to time.  (Ironically enough, I don’t actually subscribe to your Twitter feed or your blog, but knowing your user handle, it’s not hard to do a Google search.)  But you actively subscribe to my blog and have people you refuse to name sending you screen captures and links to what I write, people who also obsessively follow my posts and flame me on my own blog and in my e-mail.  Who’s crazy?  Not me, boy.  That would be you and your little circle-jerk of pals.

5.) Why would you demand that I be polite or civil to you, when you’ve attacked me verbally, physically, and online on numerous occasions?  Why would you expect anyone to respond with anything but the open hostility such deranged behavior deserves?  You’re even more delusional than I thought if you think I’m under any obligation to be nice to you after all you’ve done to me.  That goes as well for your anti-religious bigotry.  I understand there are plenty of people who try to impose their faith on others, and who go out of their way to attack those who don’t share their warped interpretation of their prophets’ teachings.  But as many people as there are who are like that, there are so many more who aren’t.  Yet you ridicule everyone who believes in something greater than themselves, and you go out of your way to antagonize them.  Again, why would you expect them to show you respect or civility?  You give none—only hostility, mockery, and dishonest baloney.  Hostility, whether overt or covert, begets only one thing, and that’s more hostility.  Grow up already.  If you can’t take it, don’t dish it out.  This isn’t rocket science.  It’s a very simple concept.  It’s amazing that you’re so stupid and self-centered, as most psychopaths are, that you can’t grasp it.

Why is the bitch not in prison?

So yeah, the asshole posts that his “mother” is forging my father’s signature to try and get power-of-attorney over him, and God only knows what other questionable goals she has on her warped mind.

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What I’d like very much to know is this: Why is the demented, evil, violent, sociopathic, hateful old hag not rotting in prison, instead of continuing to be free to forge her estranged husband’s name so she can rip him off for what little he has remaining to him?

I try as best I can to avoid reading the asshole’s blog or his endless stream of Twitter posts.  Most of the time I do.  But since he and his psycho friends took it upon themselves to follow every single blog, Facebook, and Twitter post I make and then use them to defame me online, and especially since my father went back into the hospital, the only way to learn his condition, besides what info I get from my one aunt, is to check from time to time.  Most of the drivel he posts is meaningless and irrelevant to me.  But things like what he posted about “mother” breaking the law to try and rip my father off…

Is he even doing anything about this?  The bitch is forging our father’s name on documents.  That’s illegal.  She knows it’s illegal.  David knows it’s illegal.  So why isn’t the bitch facing prison time?  She’s already spent years verbally and physically abusing her invalid husband and gotten away with it.  That’s bad enough.  How much more shit like this does she have to pull before someone has her arrested and put where she has always belonged?

And that little shit-stain has the unmitigated gall to blast me online, call me a mental case, and say he has no brothers.  Dave, when you let your mother do things like this and the only apparent thing you do in response is to bitch about it on your Twitter feed instead of taking direct legal action to stop it, you are the mental case who deserves to be called such and isolated from the rest of the family.  Oh, wait, you are.

David, why do I have to tell you this?  The solution is very simple, and not nearly as difficult as you’ll probably claim: have the bitch arrested and prosecuted for forgery.  You have the evidence, or will the moment any questions arise regarding our father’s legal affairs as a result of the forgeries.  You damn well better do something about this, because if I have to step in and clean up your mess in order to protect our father from his wife, I’m not going to rest until both you and your mother committed to a mental hospital for the rest of your worthless days.

I’ve had it with you psychotic degenerates.