Allow me to explain myself.
This past month has been a rather… challenging one, to put it lightly. I could easily just pretend that I haven’t been MIA from my blog since November and just post the next book review, but I feel that wouldn’t be right.
Even though I’m pretty sure the only person who reads my blog is my Mom. If that.
Hi, Mom.
I’m not even sure how to format this. Ugh. You know, that’s actually a great way to summarize this month- “Ugh.”
First off, it started out great. Austin, Zack, and myself found a new place closer to where Zack and I wanted to go back to school. Although we had a very short time period to pack up all of our things and move in, we moved in on the 18th. I had just gotten a job offer the week before, and finally got to put in my notice at my old job.
But on December 15th, my Dad was admitted into the hospital, which, to be upfront, I wasn’t all that concerned about.
He’d been in and out of hospitals for a long time now. In December of 2007, he was rushed to the hospital on Christmas Eve (or early Christmas Morning, however you’d like to look at it) for suddenly throwing up blood.
In 2014, I sat in the hospital with him for a few days after a motorcycle accident involving a drunk driver where we discussed the meaning of life and watched stupid movies whilst he was doped up on pain medicine for a broken clavicle and several fractured ribs. My entry fee was to bring him Little Caesars pizza because he didn’t want me to see him in a hospital bed again.
But this year, it was different.
He had apparently been under the weather for a while, and complaining of pain, but without insurance, my stubborn ass father did not go to the doctor until it got to the point where my mother had to take him. Sparing you the details, a clinic doctor advised them to go to the ER, and my father was admitted into the ICU that night. At that point, he had been sedated and incubated, leaving him unable to speak, and in a deep state of sleep that he would occasionally awake from only to try and pull at tubes and chew at his lip.
I didn’t get to speak to him. Every time I saw him he was sedated. For eight days, he battled a severe case of Staph, and an infection that attacked the tissues in his body. On December 23rd, just before noon, he coded for the second time that morning, and left us.
I’m not posting this for attention or condolences, I don’t need it and I don’t want them.
Even if there is good will behind them, it just makes it worse to be constantly reminded of the loss. I honestly don’t even like telling people because the look in their eyes shifts from how they normally look at a person to the apprehension most people get in their eyes when someone is about to cry . It gets awkward, my insides turn to stone, and I feel the need to go curl into a ball under ten layers of blankets.
I skipped some of my family’s Christmas celebrations because someone told me I didn’t have to (which is what I needed to hear). I brought in the New Year somewhat ungracefully and I will admit to not remembering most of it except for being sad. Very, very sad.
Thank you, to my friends and family who have been there for us through this. Thank you to those who have not made us feel even worse. Thank you to those who kept me happy and sane the day of.
Thank you for reading. Sorry for the abrupt ending. No good way to stop now.
-Rachel.
Forbidden Planet 