May. 29th, 2002

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Sorry to all that have me on their friends list, but I forgot the code for "Click here to see the whole post", and I need to type this. If'n ya don't really care, scroll away. This is really just here for me, anyway.

Where to start?

My Dad has always been a somewhat active (and inebriated) man. He was always a drinking, laughing, joke-telling "Life Of The Party", very similar to the character "Norm" on "Cheers" (Where EVERYBODY knows his name, and they all shout "JIMMY!!!" when he comes in the door of any tavern). Fishing, camping, gardening, making stuff out of wood in his workshop... always doing SOMETHING. Well, unfortunately, he's getting older now, and he has been having increasingly bad pains in his back and legs. Pain so bad that he can't sleep for more than maybe an hour at a time. Walking more than a few steps is completely out of the question, and even just sitting still in his big, comfy chair he lets out the occasional cry of agony.

On Monday night, he drove himself to the Emergency Room in Anacortes, the pain was so bad. No one even knew he had left till the next morning, because he didn't want to alarm anybody.

Today, Crystal and I drove him to the VA Hospital in Seattle for an Emergency Room visit. We got him a wheel chair, which seemed to help a little bit, and wheeled him on to the big conveyor belt of "Let's crank these old folks through the medical machine as quickly as possible". Half hour later, we were waiting for his prescription to be filled, and I finally had a chance to ask him what the doctor had told him.

"The doctor said it's some sort of combination of Bone Spurs and Arthritis, and there ain't no doctor on Earth that can help me. I'm going to have to live with this pain for the rest of my life like this".

Silence. I filled up with anger, sadness, fear, and more anger. How could they tell him something like that, after only looking at him for a half-hour AT THE MOST? No x-rays, no physical... he didn't even get to take his shirt off! Just a couple of questions for the crazy old coot who's confused by his arthritis pain, then send him on his way. Take away everything he likes about life... take away his ability to go fishing, do some gardening, or heck even just watch a ballgame on TV without body-jarring pain! So angry... SO ANGRY!!!

I had no idea how to cope with this! Well, actually, I *did* know how to deal with it, and so did my Dad. After all, he's the one that taught it to me. He turned to me and said, with all seriousness in his eyes, "This is a bad thing. It's really ruined my day."

Yes, stupid little jokes. They have gotten us through more tough times than I care to even thing about. Gramma's funeral, me almost not graduating High School, losing my first job, moving to Seattle... all met with a myriad of small jokes to keep us from focusing on the seriousness of the matter. So we sat there and made jokes about drag-racing wheelchairs, using grandkids for slave labor, and general silliness related to but not directly addressing the fact that my Dad's life was pretty much over.

The thing that he said today that keeps going through my head is so very haunting to me, because I've said it a million times myself: "If I weren't such a coward, I'd just kill myself right now rather than have to live with this pain".

Okay.... I've depressed myself enough with this now. I'm gonna go try and do something that will cheer me up now. Maybe a pizza...

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