I'm a caretaker for a vietnam veteran, who's a fucking full blown alcoholic, who's in denial over it (i.e. "I only have a couple drinks a day..." which is a bold-faced lie, and he forgets the part that he'd not had a single day off in 20 years or more, except while in the hospital, which they had no idea he was in withdrawals, but he gets gabapentin and they had him doped up on pain-killers too). He thinks the one time that he quit drinking cold-turkey, that my mother whom he buys pills off of (adderall, hydrocodone, and oxycodone, sometimes), the lady she gets the adderall from had gave him LSD "by mistake". First, she doesn't dabble with hallucinogenics, just weed and her adderall script, and secondly- LSD isn't like main stream pop culture describes "acid". He was hallucinating ants all over his body, and thinking he had to shoot anyone who came to his door, and that there was some big conspiracy against him, and this non-nonsensical logic story playing through his head. He refuses to believe this could be anything other that "acid" or LSD, rather than being what I truly believe it was- alcohol withdrawal, which can, in bad cases cover every symptom he displayed, and is far more probable than "accidentally" sold acid, which comes on blotter paper, not fucking capsuled pills (but he don't know, or believe that...)
His legs are like raw meat from agent orange exposure. They are nothing, but open, weeping sores- both legs. from knee to tips of his toes, to which he barely has any toes and his to nails are completely rotted off. He's been told that he needs to keep his legs elevated, but he refuses to do so because it hurts, and which is a huge reason he drinks as much as he does. Over the last year, he's been refusing more and more to even go to bed, and sleeps in his chair, which causes his legs to go numb, lose circulation, then lose feeling, thus minimizing pain- at least until he has to get up and walk or go to bed at night. I can tell the nights he sleeps in bed, versus when he sleeps in the chair when I change his bandages on his legs, it gets fucking worse and worse every time. He also needs to move more, as he's morbidly obese and has been falling a lot. He has next to no muscle mass. He's gone from using a cane to a walker in a year and from falling once in a blue moon to falling several times a week- sometimes more. He doesn't want to go to the hospital (when they have him, he's in there minimum a month for rehab, unless like last time he lied and expected my mother and I to wait on him hand and foot, like we do anyway, and fight to get him in the house- he also told the physical therapy lady to go fuck herself politely when she called to set up an appointment to come to the house to do sessions with him, which pissed me off terribly.)
WORST PART- beyond the bandages of stinking raw meat, or the fact that getting him to take a shower is hell (a year a go it wasn't, he showered fine and looked forward to every chance he got since he could only do it twice a week, when the nurse came to replace the bandages, but now it's 3 times a week, summer has come, and last year he even got maggots on his legs from the flies in the house because he lives like a fucking pig), Nope! He has a penis, that resembles more a vagina with huge swollen testicles- literally. There's nothing there... I kinda feel sorry for him- he's smaller than a micro-penis... and I often wonder if he ever did have a dick, and if this really is from agent orange. So, because of his non-existent penis, and his mobility issues deteriorating more and more (albeit, he was doing this from go, for years, out of laziness) he pisses in a piss jug... Which is anything he can find when he has to piss. He does have designated jugs... but sometimes he just grabs a pitcher or whatever... a bowl... a cup.. and leaves it there... and they pile up, get hidden around, and the whole fucking house smells like rotten meat and piss so fucking bad (sometimes shit, because he's getting to the point he's so lazy he waits til the last second to go take a shit, and then sometimes he shits all over the floor, can't clean it up, but tries by smearing it around everywhere, then doesn't tell anyone until days later when it's stuck on everything and he's tracked shit everywhere on his bandaged feet that I have to then handle to take off his bandages.) HE FUCKING REFUSES TO GO DO IT IN THE BATHROOM and dump them when he's done! He first said "I can't make it". Okay, fine. Then, when you're done pissing in you jug, take it and empty it into the toilet so the whole house doesn't have to smell like fucking putrid urine. His current designated jug is a giant square animal crackers jar, and it gets heavy... way too heavy for him to carry, but fucker can sure get his giant fucking wine bottle (in the jug-style bottles with the hole on the side to hold while pouring) WTF?!?!?! Fine, but now he don't want to use a smaller one, and I AM the one who's gotta empty the fucking things because his ass is too lazy and he doesn't want to fucking make any effort for himself to do as the doctor's tell him... but "if I had money (which he does...) I'd go to a specialist instead of at the VA. He has medicare too, which is only a 20% deductable, and since he's been in the hospital a couple times this year, his 100$ has been met, but he won't fucking make the appointment, but bitches about it all the time. Same with pain management, which I know would help him cut back on drinking and help him move around and keep his legs elevated more, but he won't do it.
this leaves my ass fetching beers as I'm running around for appointments, work, and all sorts of other bullshit... He also won't take his showers on my time, or let me take his bandages off (doctor even said he should air them out for a few hours each day, before they get put back on) earlier than RIGHT when he's ready to take a shower, and now since he has fallen a dozen times in the shower now (as well as evweywhere else and I'm the only one, even though I've got a bad back, can get his ass up- seriously, one day I was out and my mother's muscluar male friend who works out couldn't get him up and he had to wait til I got home and the fucker didn't even wait to help me, I had to do it solo) I've GOT to be there to help him, but he doesn't want help until he's fallen, because he's embarrassed of his non-existent cock, even though he walks around with his shorts falling off his ass, and balls hanging out the leg... or that I'll have to see him naked when he DOES fall and it's fucking harder... and he fucking drags his ass doing it so I can get to my appointments on time or get to sleep since I started a job that is 100% night shifts (10pm-6am). He cries when I make him take a shower because he fucking STINKS, FUCKING STINKS BAD, too. Then he got all offended I said he stunk, when fuck... he TOLD me to tell him since he said he can't smell when he is smelling badly. It's Goddamn ridiculous! My son is 10 times easier than this even when he was a fucking newborn baby for fuck's sake! I take care of a goddamned man child!
Oh, and he won't turn on the AC. He insists he's "cold" when the house thermometer reads fucking 95 degrees F in the house. Like WTF, dude?!?! Everyone else is sweating balls, but he's wearing a fucking sweater, and I can't believe it since fuck, he weighs 315lbs. He refuses to even believe that something is wrong and thinks my mother and I our the crazy ones for thinking it's hot...
I think he's developing Alzheimer's since he asked the same questions over and over, does some really weird shit, and fucking can't remember anything to save his goddamned life. He's literally been giving me seizures. An hour before I go to work he SCREAMS my name (which gets the macaw doing it too) and fucking stresses me out telling me "TIME FOR WORK!!!!" or he screams through the house where I can hear him at the fucking mailbox, hollering at the fucking bird! This is why sometimes he's fallen and I don't notice right away because... he's always screaming about something... Always crying wolf. THe shit about that is, I'm awake, I have a routine. I get very anxious before I leave, but it only takes me 5 minutes to get there, so I don't need to leave until 9:30-9:45 to be there with some extra time. First day of work, I seizured before going in, and luckily, got to the bathroom at work before having another one. Seizured in the parking lot the next day before leaving, and every fucking day, it fucks with me so bad when he gets to screaming about when I have to be at work- fuck, I've worked since I've been 16. I know when, how long it takes to get there, and how I need to get ready to go. I've never, ever needed reminders to fucking do this and be ready and on time for work. He still keeps doing it... it's going to kill me.
I had a rule about not driving after having a seizure for at least 24 hours. Can't do that anymore. I've told these fuckers I've had a seizure, they've SEEN me have a seizure, and still.... "Oh, btw, you need to take him to a doctor's appointment" or in the case of seizuring before work... it's not far, but goddamn, you think anyone could fucking drop me off to work? Fuck no... I'm going to have to get into an accident while seizuring and maim or kill myself or someone else for them to take them seriously. It pisses me off so badly... Tey don't respect me at all, or give two fucks I'm endangering myself every time I drive when I feel or have had a seizure.
Murder/suicide is my only option...
...but only after I go visit Piles of Crack for his birthday this week coming up, and fuck him silly. I seriously need dick. I'm so sexually deprived, it's not funny. I can't orgasm through masturbation, which sucks really bad. God, I can't wait to bury his huge cock deep inside me.
