December was a rough month. Sure, it marks a time of the birth of many of yours Lord, but for me it was a crashing point of sorts. I have a Grandpa who is under constant care. Prior to October of 2009, he still lived at home. But his mind was failing. He started losing touch with things and the only person in the world he trusted was me. So, at the end of October, after a long hard battle, he was put into a hospital and ordered to stay until a new living situation was arranged.
But a few months later, my sister called me in a frantic. Crying, she said, “There is something wrong with him… They think he is dying. They need to know if he has a DNR (do not recessitate) in place.”
Since I had power of attorney over him, it was ultimately my decision if he should be let go from this cruel world or if he should get another shot.
How the fuck does someone answer that? What I learned later is that he did have a DNR in place. They just couldn’t find it. So he is currently alive. Though he shouldn’t be.
A few weeks later, he was moved into an assisted living facility. Nurses come and give him his pills, all 18 of them, each day and check on him. He has a little apartment that isn’t too shabby. My sister now keeps close watch on him, as we moved him to her town. I am still far away from him. I don’t keep such a close eye on him as I did this past year but I still call him every other day.
Sometimes he yells in a cursed rage at me, due to the fact that he is confused about every little thing ever. He just freaks out over things he wishes she still had control of. I understand such sediments, so I just laugh it off. This is how it is going to be for the rest of his life. I get that. So it doesn’t bother me.
Something Wrong with my Brain (2/2010)
On the day marriage should ever fall unto me, some lady will definitely be lucky, I’ve thought up some vows already. One should always be prepared of the future. But this certain vow isn’t even for me. It’s for the lady. She must vow to put a pillow over my face when I turn 63. Why 63? I have no idea. Sounds like a good time to end things. I don’t want to wake up one day not remembering who I was, who I am, and who anyone I know is. I don’t want to shit my pants, or end up like my other Grandfather who can’t speak, eat on his own, talk, or see. What is the point to that sort of life? There isn’t one, no matter what you believe.
I am on my way out the door to take the GRE for the second time. You may remember the last time I took it… Regardless, I feel as if I am a bit more prepared this time than last. Though I still don’t understand a lick of the math, I have a feeling I will get better score than last round. If I don’t, I’m going to be upset.