dad, ad nauseum

So, I girded my loins (do women have loins?), and headed on over to the home to try and find Dad’s missing clothes. As I approached the nurses station, I saw Dad heading over from the opposite direction. He had a slip of paper in his hand and said, “I’m glad you’re here. I don’t have any money and I need to pay for my lunch.” I told him the bill was taken care of but he said, “Well, I don’t know if that’s true.”

ah the love and faith and shit.


The nurse took the slip and said the bill was taken care of, so we could sit down and visit. In the meantime, I asked the nurse to get hold of the laundry so I could try to find Dad’s missing clothes. So when the PT guy came for Dad, Dante, the housekeeping director escorted me down to the laundry, but none of his clothes were there. So we filled out forms and made lists of missing items and then his nurse said, “What about the clothes in his closet?” I said, “What clothes in what closet?”

Apparently, Dad has a closet with a dirty laundry bag in it that the aides kept stuffing his clothes in, on top of another man’s soiled (and I do mean soiled) clothes (I guess he died). The laundry was never told to start picking up Dad’s clothes, so I had to sort through Dad’s filthy things and some dead guy’s shitty things so that I could give Dante Dad’s things to wash and the nurse could dispose of the dead guy’s things.

i mean ugh…just fuckin’ ugh

As I was leaving, I found myself muttering, “I won’t ever go back. This is the last time. I won’t ever go back.” Of course, I will go back…but I sure don’t want to.

Anybody out there know when this stuff starts getting easier?

4 thoughts on “dad, ad nauseum

    1. ossobucco says:

      *enfolds both in a circle
      It doesn’t. But it will end. And you will prevail, as will all the good stuff.
      This crud is supposed to make us stronger. And, philosophically, I think we all understand that. But, in the meantime, IT’S SO FUCKING HARD.
      I’m truly sorry you have to go through this.

      1. jezebellydancer says:

        Let’s just make it a giant group hug.
        My mantra of late has been, “This too shall pass.” And breathing, I’m doing a lot of breathing. Because really, I just want to strangle the ever-loving shit out of—
        Don’t forget to take care of yourself. I’m currently self-medicating with hoomemade peach schnapps and OJ. But crystalrose1110 has recommended a special margarita potion. You want in?

  1. zjman says:

    Anybody out there know when this stuff starts getting easier?
    It don’t.
    But you learn to tolerate it a bit and as has been said… It ends.
    Your job is to ease the end as best you can.
    *love and strength*

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