Grandmother had an episode tonight; when My Father called her for dinner, I saw her stagger out of the bathroom. She couldn't walk, barely could stand up, and when I helped her to her seat, she closed her eyes and rested her head on her fist. I touched her head; she was cold. I patted her back; she clearly was sweating. She headed back to sleep, although I had to help her to the bathroom, keep her upright because she was about to fall, and then take her to her bed. I was about to call 911, but after an hour of sleep she came back out, on her own, making her own dinner. Not listless, not cold, not sweating. Grandmother seems fine now.
What really pisses me off is My Fucking Father's reaction to it. One of the last times she had an episode like this was the morning I was going to vacation in St. Louis. My Fucking Father and I had a huge fight the night before -- actually, he yelled at me for, like, going to the garage late at night, the asshole -- and I needed his help as I actually dialed 911 because Grandmother wasn't responding. After the paramedics came, My Fucking Father disappeared. We needed him to make a call to my aunt (his sister) to come over to make sure she was OK as I left. I realized he was downstairs, in his room, watching TV. Way to stand up and be a man, pop.
Well, his manner wasn't better tonight, either. After yelling at her for getting up to go out to eat (which was after he called her out for dinner), he kept saying, "she's OK" in his typical whiny tone. Oh yeah, like he's a doctor. He asked me to get a Sprite for her to drink, even though she didn't ask for one. I think he said that because when the paramedics were here last time, they gave her a Sprite too, but that was because her blood sugar was too low. My Fucking Father, who was little help then, was doing the chickenshit thing and acting like the "expert" he wasn't then and diagnosed that Grandmother's blood sugar was low again, even though he didn't know what the fuck he was talking about. Once again, way to stand up and be a man, one episode too late.
My Fucking Father kept saying she was OK as he berated her to go back to her bedroom. And when she went back to bed, he told me "she OK." Why the fuck are you trying to assure me she's OK? Again, you're not a doctor, and I think I know more about her health than you do. God, what an idiot. He's trying to act like a man when all he's doing is overcompensating for being a coward when it counted. And was he really going to be OK with his conscience in case Grandmother wasn't going to be OK tonight?
I might feel this way just to psyche myself up because I'll be away both nights this weekend, but I don't care. I now feel good about not doing a damn thing around the house the next two days.
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