Hi, I'm Ms. I Have No Idea

Today is discharge day for my dad.  Not that he has made so much progress that the hospital can do no more for him, but because if the family is expected to provide most of the care...why not just do that at home?  Remember a few posts ago, when I said that I had told my dad that he would be in the hospital for four days...tops?  Right, so, today is day nine.  Oops.  To my credit, I could not have known that my dad would go apeshit once he woke up.  Confusion.  Paranoia.  Noncompliance.  All hallmarks of my dad's recovery so far.  True, physically, he is awesome.  Mentally...well....not so  much. 

Growing up, my dad never called me by my name.  Depending on the situation, I was either "the girl" or "baby" or "pumpkin".  Later, I became "Jane" or "Phyllis", or sometimes a combo, "Ja-Phyll-Kelly".  This is fairly normal when you are the youngest child...to be called everyone else's name but your own.  This week, I received a new name.  When my mother pressed him to identify me, I became "I have no idea".  Shortly thereafter, he did recite my name, but hearing my new name "I have no idea" was heartbreaking.  He may have been bullshitting, dad always had a flair for the dramatic, but even if that was the case....WTF?

Needless to say, the news that someone would have to stay with my dad round the clock until his confusion clears was not exactly the news I had hoped to hear.  Don't think for a second that I am not thankful that he finally woke up, I am.  I swear.  But, I was kind of hoping he would be going home new and improved.  Not paranoid and stronger.  Once again, I am faced with the consequences of my choices.  I chose not to have children and to not remain married to the wrong person.  Therefore, I have no life outside of service to others who chose differently.  Whereas my siblings have obligations, I am now expected to take a break from sitting around eating bon bons and counting all my money to go stay with my dad.  And why shouldn't it be this way?  I have been there since it all begin, why not finish it? 

I can't help but think there is a lesson in here somewhere.  Either I am about to learn how to have more patience or I am going to learn to stand up for myself.  I am between a rock and a hard place here, if I refuse to stay more than my fair share...I am an evil and ungrateful daughter who is unable to compromise.  If I take on more than my fair share, I can be counted on to do this in the future...since I have no life anyway.  See?  And, it really shouldn't matter...it shouldn't, but it does.  Because after restating the day of the week and reciting "take your medicine" for the millionth time...I am going to want the next shift to be on time.  If I was coming to relieve someone that I resented, I probably wouldn't be in any hurry. 

All this bitching and moaning has a point, I promise.  Wait, maybe it doesn't.  Either way, as my dad's mind gets stronger I am hoping my patience and tolerance follows suit.  When my mother arrived at the hospital the other night (at the request of the staff, since my dad was "agitated"), my dad was seated at the nurse's station, fully dressed, bag packed, moving the mouse around and watching the result on the computer screen.  For some reason, this cracks me up.  Dad always was all about education, leave it to him to go to the hospital for bypass surgery and pick up some computer skills along the way.  I have a feeling my education is about to begin.