Letting it all out
Plans for this year on new years day looked promising. That just proves the theory that appearance is not everything. This last month has been fucking hell. It has made me question everything time and time again. Not question my faith, but rather my emotional strength. Let me start from the beggining, and I'll try to keep it short.
Early January: My grandfather of 76 was hospitalized for severe stomach problems. One day later he was hospitalized for being paralyzed from his hip down. It turned out that the cancer he had removed twice has spread everywhere in his body. The 6 years before this day his doctor said he had no traces of cancer in his body. What a bold faced piece of shit lie that was, what a doctor eh? When he finally found out that it had spread it was too late. All they could do was remove a tumor twice, once 2 years ago and again in January 06'. He hid his cancer from us the past two years because he knew we could do nothing. Selfish or selfless? I love him so much, but wish he would have told us. After his second tumor removal in Jan. 06', he was moved later to Evergreen Convalescent rehabilitation. That place reminded one of death, the smell of feces and unclean bodies made one wish for death. He was put in a room, 128, and two hours later his roommate passed. What a kick-off eh? He was recovering well, gaining strength and speaking like normal. He always joked with you, made you feel loved. He was great, my last memory of him speaking conciously like that was there with my friend Elizabeth. We were outside eating and just talking about how beautiful the day was. Well a few days later he went downhill very fast. He was then moved to Kindred Rehab Hospital, where there would be more advanced and constant medical care provided. He lost his train of thought there. He became dilusional, and it made me cry horribly. A week went by and he was rushed to Doctors Medical Center where they treated him for kindney infection and M.R.S. which led to pneumonia, bronchitis and kidney failure. He and I were the same blood-type and I was willing to give up a kidney to save his. I would have done anything to help him. That was not needed. He was too far gone. The end of February came and his brother, sister-in-law, and his niece whom he had loved all very much, came to see him. So did his son from Illinois and Pheonix. The first time in over 20yrs the three brothers were together. I knew this was the end, but everyone else was not willing to deal, except for his niece. She and I talked, we both knew what was going to happen. Finally the doctor came to tell us the news. The cancer had become so bad that it had broken everyone of his ribs. His chest was like one big ballon. Seeing him like that hurt so much, I barely could stand to live. This is when everyone else had finally come to terms with the fact that he was no going to make it. February 28, one of the last things he said, other than, "Pray for me" was said to me, "Hey there little buddie, I love you." I hurt so much when he said that, he was a father I never had. March first 5:50am he woke up and took my grandmother's hand, he squeezed it tight and started taking short quick breaths, then they slowed. The nurse came in and took his pulse, 60 and dropping. She told her that it would not be long. 6:00am, he opened his eyes and blinked them several times to my grandmother as if saying goodbye. He took his final breath and exhaled. Pronounced desceased at March 1st 6:00am 2006. I woke up to a call from my brother, "Jacob, he has passed." So I head to the hospital to a family broken down. My grandmother could not believe he was dead. She repeatedly asked the nurse, "Is he really gone?" To the reply, "Yes, I am so sorry." That day my grandmother returned home for the first time in weeks. She was broken, and had lost her love. The following saturday was the funeral. It was beautiful. So many people had shown up, we had no idea how much the community had loved him. His memory will never be forgotten. We then a few days later went to the cemetary to set up his burial. He had purchased a double plot for him and grandma. A beautiful spot right under a tall, gorgeous Monterey Redwood Pine. There his remains will rest forever, never forsaken by those who loved him. A few days later his youngest son returned home. A week and a half later his oldest returned to Illinois. The family still has pain for his loss.
March 19, 12:45am. The 53rd anniversary of my grandparents, he had passed so short of this day. I woke up to my dad asking me if I was slaming doors in the laundry room. I was in bed, how could I? I knew it was the cats and I figured he'd be paranoid and try to figure out whom it was. He had grabbed a 44 magnum revolver to use in case of need. I had a rude awakening a minute later. He had accidentally discharged an extremeley powerful handgun through his right hand, through the door, blowing the handle of the other side and going into our dryer. I jumped up startled, I though someone shot him. So I looked for my gun to defend me and my step-mom. Well, I heard him moan and scream I shot myself. I paniced, I thought he had fataly wounded himself. He came pacing through the hallway to my door, I was already up and dressed in less than 10 sec. He was gushing blood and his hand was blown open. I immediately grabbed the closest thing I had near me to tie a turnicate around his forearm. It was one of my most favorite clothing items, a gift from my uncle who passed 2 year previous in march 25. I miss him greatly also. So then I rushed to find my keys and wallet to get him to the hospital. Calling an ambulance would have been futile. He would have lost over 2 pints of blood by then. I had blood all over my hands and shirt. I ran out to the van to get him to the hospital realizing that I grabbed the wrong keys. It scared me thinking my dad is out there bleeding and I grabbed the wrong keys. "Stupid fucking me, damnit all!" I rushed out the open the door for him, started the van, and rushed to the hospital running a red light and going close to 60mph on a 25mph road. I got to the hospital and runned aroun opened the door and rushed him in. They took him back, so then I went to park the van legally. I went back inside to see what was happening. I lost it, I started breaking down. My step mom was at home with six squad cars at the house persistantly asking her time and time again, "Did you shoot him?" Then me at the hospital being questioned if I shot him. After questioning I went outside, I couldn't sit down. I called my brother and told him what had happened. He then told my grandma. He came to the hospital right after my step mom. But before that I was outside having a panic attack thinking I was going to lose someone else. My chest tightened, my lungs hurt, my head throbbed, my stomach cramped, my heart beaten so fast, and I tasted blood in my mouth and throat. I was afraid I ruptured an ulcer, because of all the stress the past couple months, the doctor believed I developed one. I was afraid I'd be hospitalzed next, because a ruptured ucler is deadly. Turned out not be be that, thank gods. He was moved to a specialized micro-sugerey hospital S.F. at 8am the next morning. He remained there for a few weeks. Turns out that he was on Meth, as we suspected. That led to his paranoia, and his loss of logical thought. On the 5th of April he returned home.
April 6th, 11:25pm. My dad is going through severe Detox from not using drugs for such a long time. He blew a fuse over ice cream. He ran off walking from walgreens on McHenry and Roseburg to my Grandma's house 3 miles away. We searched for an hour for him. Finally the cops got involved, but shortly after that. My grandma called saying he was there in the garage sleeping in the van, or rather trying. His logic was this, "I have money I can get ice cream" but he had no money, he had been out of work for a month. He was fired by his uncle-in-law. He had no money to his name. His family has cut all financial help to him. No onw will help him because he does not care for his family's problems, only his own. So with $616 dollars to his name, and $260,000 dollars owed to the bank for the house and credit cards. The only option was, and is, to sell our house. Make $120,000 profit or more and moved into a condo or luxury apartments. What a change in lifestyle for me. All because my dad's foolish pride and behaviours. How could he? I don't really care, because I know that no matter what happens to me; my gods and ancestors will always protect me. I will never be alone in this war against insanity. I think I might just move in with my grandmother, she wants me to. I would have my own room, bathroom, computer, small exercise room. I just wish that for once, stability would reign in my family.
I would be lost without my friends, and would be devestated if something happened to the. I guess in this shitty time, I just want someone to love. I just feel lonely sometimes. Like I a distant from emotion yet controlled by them. This is only April, and I wonder what this year has in store for me yet.
Early January: My grandfather of 76 was hospitalized for severe stomach problems. One day later he was hospitalized for being paralyzed from his hip down. It turned out that the cancer he had removed twice has spread everywhere in his body. The 6 years before this day his doctor said he had no traces of cancer in his body. What a bold faced piece of shit lie that was, what a doctor eh? When he finally found out that it had spread it was too late. All they could do was remove a tumor twice, once 2 years ago and again in January 06'. He hid his cancer from us the past two years because he knew we could do nothing. Selfish or selfless? I love him so much, but wish he would have told us. After his second tumor removal in Jan. 06', he was moved later to Evergreen Convalescent rehabilitation. That place reminded one of death, the smell of feces and unclean bodies made one wish for death. He was put in a room, 128, and two hours later his roommate passed. What a kick-off eh? He was recovering well, gaining strength and speaking like normal. He always joked with you, made you feel loved. He was great, my last memory of him speaking conciously like that was there with my friend Elizabeth. We were outside eating and just talking about how beautiful the day was. Well a few days later he went downhill very fast. He was then moved to Kindred Rehab Hospital, where there would be more advanced and constant medical care provided. He lost his train of thought there. He became dilusional, and it made me cry horribly. A week went by and he was rushed to Doctors Medical Center where they treated him for kindney infection and M.R.S. which led to pneumonia, bronchitis and kidney failure. He and I were the same blood-type and I was willing to give up a kidney to save his. I would have done anything to help him. That was not needed. He was too far gone. The end of February came and his brother, sister-in-law, and his niece whom he had loved all very much, came to see him. So did his son from Illinois and Pheonix. The first time in over 20yrs the three brothers were together. I knew this was the end, but everyone else was not willing to deal, except for his niece. She and I talked, we both knew what was going to happen. Finally the doctor came to tell us the news. The cancer had become so bad that it had broken everyone of his ribs. His chest was like one big ballon. Seeing him like that hurt so much, I barely could stand to live. This is when everyone else had finally come to terms with the fact that he was no going to make it. February 28, one of the last things he said, other than, "Pray for me" was said to me, "Hey there little buddie, I love you." I hurt so much when he said that, he was a father I never had. March first 5:50am he woke up and took my grandmother's hand, he squeezed it tight and started taking short quick breaths, then they slowed. The nurse came in and took his pulse, 60 and dropping. She told her that it would not be long. 6:00am, he opened his eyes and blinked them several times to my grandmother as if saying goodbye. He took his final breath and exhaled. Pronounced desceased at March 1st 6:00am 2006. I woke up to a call from my brother, "Jacob, he has passed." So I head to the hospital to a family broken down. My grandmother could not believe he was dead. She repeatedly asked the nurse, "Is he really gone?" To the reply, "Yes, I am so sorry." That day my grandmother returned home for the first time in weeks. She was broken, and had lost her love. The following saturday was the funeral. It was beautiful. So many people had shown up, we had no idea how much the community had loved him. His memory will never be forgotten. We then a few days later went to the cemetary to set up his burial. He had purchased a double plot for him and grandma. A beautiful spot right under a tall, gorgeous Monterey Redwood Pine. There his remains will rest forever, never forsaken by those who loved him. A few days later his youngest son returned home. A week and a half later his oldest returned to Illinois. The family still has pain for his loss.
March 19, 12:45am. The 53rd anniversary of my grandparents, he had passed so short of this day. I woke up to my dad asking me if I was slaming doors in the laundry room. I was in bed, how could I? I knew it was the cats and I figured he'd be paranoid and try to figure out whom it was. He had grabbed a 44 magnum revolver to use in case of need. I had a rude awakening a minute later. He had accidentally discharged an extremeley powerful handgun through his right hand, through the door, blowing the handle of the other side and going into our dryer. I jumped up startled, I though someone shot him. So I looked for my gun to defend me and my step-mom. Well, I heard him moan and scream I shot myself. I paniced, I thought he had fataly wounded himself. He came pacing through the hallway to my door, I was already up and dressed in less than 10 sec. He was gushing blood and his hand was blown open. I immediately grabbed the closest thing I had near me to tie a turnicate around his forearm. It was one of my most favorite clothing items, a gift from my uncle who passed 2 year previous in march 25. I miss him greatly also. So then I rushed to find my keys and wallet to get him to the hospital. Calling an ambulance would have been futile. He would have lost over 2 pints of blood by then. I had blood all over my hands and shirt. I ran out to the van to get him to the hospital realizing that I grabbed the wrong keys. It scared me thinking my dad is out there bleeding and I grabbed the wrong keys. "Stupid fucking me, damnit all!" I rushed out the open the door for him, started the van, and rushed to the hospital running a red light and going close to 60mph on a 25mph road. I got to the hospital and runned aroun opened the door and rushed him in. They took him back, so then I went to park the van legally. I went back inside to see what was happening. I lost it, I started breaking down. My step mom was at home with six squad cars at the house persistantly asking her time and time again, "Did you shoot him?" Then me at the hospital being questioned if I shot him. After questioning I went outside, I couldn't sit down. I called my brother and told him what had happened. He then told my grandma. He came to the hospital right after my step mom. But before that I was outside having a panic attack thinking I was going to lose someone else. My chest tightened, my lungs hurt, my head throbbed, my stomach cramped, my heart beaten so fast, and I tasted blood in my mouth and throat. I was afraid I ruptured an ulcer, because of all the stress the past couple months, the doctor believed I developed one. I was afraid I'd be hospitalzed next, because a ruptured ucler is deadly. Turned out not be be that, thank gods. He was moved to a specialized micro-sugerey hospital S.F. at 8am the next morning. He remained there for a few weeks. Turns out that he was on Meth, as we suspected. That led to his paranoia, and his loss of logical thought. On the 5th of April he returned home.
April 6th, 11:25pm. My dad is going through severe Detox from not using drugs for such a long time. He blew a fuse over ice cream. He ran off walking from walgreens on McHenry and Roseburg to my Grandma's house 3 miles away. We searched for an hour for him. Finally the cops got involved, but shortly after that. My grandma called saying he was there in the garage sleeping in the van, or rather trying. His logic was this, "I have money I can get ice cream" but he had no money, he had been out of work for a month. He was fired by his uncle-in-law. He had no money to his name. His family has cut all financial help to him. No onw will help him because he does not care for his family's problems, only his own. So with $616 dollars to his name, and $260,000 dollars owed to the bank for the house and credit cards. The only option was, and is, to sell our house. Make $120,000 profit or more and moved into a condo or luxury apartments. What a change in lifestyle for me. All because my dad's foolish pride and behaviours. How could he? I don't really care, because I know that no matter what happens to me; my gods and ancestors will always protect me. I will never be alone in this war against insanity. I think I might just move in with my grandmother, she wants me to. I would have my own room, bathroom, computer, small exercise room. I just wish that for once, stability would reign in my family.
I would be lost without my friends, and would be devestated if something happened to the. I guess in this shitty time, I just want someone to love. I just feel lonely sometimes. Like I a distant from emotion yet controlled by them. This is only April, and I wonder what this year has in store for me yet.