First off, a warning. This post isn't going to be a happy post. I have a rather bad case of the blues at the moment, and this is the best place I can think of to let it all out.
Work this week has been shockingly stressful. My job is far from easy anyway, but at the start of the week the renal clinic at my hospital found themselves with only one functioning room (as opposed to the normal 3), so in order to ensure all the patients got at least some dialysis they were all in for 2 hours only, which was a logistical nightmare for me as all my vehicles work had to be rearranged to ensure that all the renal patients got in on time, and home swiftly after their shortened session. This continued into Tuesday, so that combined with nearly 200 outpatient journeys and 30+ discharges per day meant for an extremely busy couple of days. Yesterday was not so bad-the renal unit was back to normal and I had the other SPLA in the office as my 'back up', so I was looking forward to a nice, straight forward day.
Didn't exactly go to plan as my Father decided to pay me a visit.
I say Father because I can't bring myself to call him Dad. He and my Mum divorced when I was around 12, and I saw a fair bit of him throughout my teenage years (mostly because I was a little shit, so when Mum couldn't cope I got sent to his), and he gave me away when I got married in 1998. After my wedding I saw him briefly on Christmas Eve of 1998, then nothing. No visits, no phonecalls, no birthday/Christmas cards (for me or my daughter), nothing. (I should mention that he told me he had moved and would let me know his new address/phone number, but never did). So for 13 years he was completely out of my life, and my daughters.
I can't be arsed to go into how he knew I was working where I am, but he decided to come and see me, and I have to give him credit for that, as I'm sure it wasn't easy, but I was thankful that there were other people in my office. I felt extremely uncomfortable, trying to talk to a man who was pretty much a total stranger to me. I didn't know how to address him. Seemed rude to call him by his name, but Dad just felt so wrong. He may be my Father, but the role of my Dad was taken over many years ago by my stepdad. Anyway, he said he'd come and see me again, and to be honest, I don't know if I want him to.
Then we move onto my stepdad. Not long after he and my Mum got together I began calling him 'bit' cos he was a my bit of a dad, but as time went on and he stood by me through thick and thin, no matter how much of a pain I was being, that bit grew, until I began to think of him as my actual dad. We have (almost) always gotten along brilliantly, and he really has been my rock. He's had some major health issues over the years-heart attack around 12 years ago, stroke around 10 years ago, and a huge accident when he was a trucker in which his back was broken in 3 places. He's been registered disabled for as long as I've known him but he's always just got on with everything, with his Northern wit bringing a smile to my face during the darkest of times. Recently though, the chap I know and love has faded away dramatically, after he suffered a very traumatic event.
Around 6 weeks ago he awoke in the early hours of the morning feeling extremely unwell, only just able to muster the strength to wake my Mum so she could call an ambulance as he knew something was very seriously wrong. When the ambulance crew arrived they immediately ran an ECG, and his bpm was a shocking 21. Needless to say he was rushed straight to hospital and they eventually managed to raise his bpm, but he was still quite seriously ill. A few days later he was transfered to another hospital to have a pacemaker fitted, and we all expected him to be right as rain in no time. Knowing that his dodgy ticker had some help was a relief to us all, him included. How wrong we were.
The pacemaker has been an absolute godsend to him. It took a fair bit of reassurance from the Doc's before he trusted it, but as the weeks have passed he has got more and more depressed. The pain from his injuries is becoming unbearable (after trying pretty much everything he started using magnet therapy, which worked wonders, but he had to stop with the magnets because of his pacemaker), and he really is just a shadow of his former self. His sparkle has just gone completely, and it is heartbreaking to see. I went over to see him today, and although it's only been a week or so since I last saw him I was shocked at how old he looked. Usually he'd be straight into the kitchen to put the kettle on, and would be chucking toys around the living room for the dog, but it was all he could do to lift the remote to turn the tv down (his hearings knackered too, as well as his eyes poor sod). It really was incredibly difficult to see.
I can understand the depression given all he's been through recently, but I really am scared that he's starting to slip away. The pain seems to be getting too much and it's like he's losing the will to live now. I'm not daft-he's 72 and I know he's not going to be around forever, but I can't bear to even think about him not being here. I'm doing what I can to support him, and show him how much I love him, but everytime I see him I just want to cry. It's almost like I'm grieving for the man he once was.
My Father, who I should care about is an absolute picture of health, yet the man who has always been there for me and my Daughter (who he thinks of as his own flesh and blood) seems to be fading fast. It's just so f***ing unfair.
So this evening I have found myself wanting to do nothing but get into my pj's and shut myself away from the world. I have a serious case of the blues (been here a couple of times before, and I don't like it one little bit) and I can't seem to shift the dark cloud that seems to be hanging over my head at the moment. I have so much to be happy about-my Daughter is awaiting her GCSE results and is super excited about starting college in September, my driving lessons are going fantastically and I've got my test booked for around 6 weeks time, my bosses at work are fully behind me getting my licence so I can go 'on the road' and eventually move to join the frontliners, yet I'm stuck in this horrible bloody pit of doom and gloom.
So if I do have any readers, I apologise in advance but it looks like this blog might just become my respite for a while.
Thanks for listening x
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