I've been trying to get him to open up more, because he's spent his whole life building and maintaining a fortress around himself. I broke down today and told him that I recognized this, and that if he wanted to let me into the real George, please let me know--he could be vulnerable. He responded: "millions of years of minkind existing and ceasing to exist, they've finally figured out how to avoid it." I said, "vulnerability or human connection?" and he said "the human connection." Great. Go figure.

Failing Human Compassion (and everything else)

It's hard now that the cancer in his brain, because he doesn't really make much sense. He said yesterday that I had accomplished something, and when I asked him what he meant, he replied, "your mother has a phone that got in the way."

I think the worst part is the way I feel right now. I have finals, and everything depends on my doing well in law school. I can't concentrate. My grandfather is also dying, and he's "lonely lonely lonely lonely lonely." That's a direct quote. My dog had a stroke. Dad is in Mom's house now, and we have to change IVs and give treatments. I dread coming here. There is a black shroud over home now, and I secretly want to stay at school. That makes me feel so guilty, as it's my dad.

It makes me sick to clean up pee, and that makes me feel bad. He passes gas alot, and it makes me dry heave. I feel like I should be better at this, but I'm not. If there's anything I should be good at, it should be this. And I suck. Yes, in addition to my other exams, I'm also going to fail Human Compassion.

More Dad Quotes

dad morphine quote:

He said “on the day you were born, there was a long, long hall, and there was glass on either side of the hall. The nurse was at the end of the hall holding you up, and it’s the happiest I’ve ever been.”

funny quote from dad

“When I don’t feel good, I can’t defend my own arguments. To be honest, it isn’t worth it, but neither are they.”

Hard Times

These are very hard times. My father keeps screaming in pain, and it really doesn't stop for longer than a few seconds. Yet he has trouble speaking. He did say two things today, however, that were very hard to hear. The first of these was: "What a terrible way to die, this lung cancer." The second was: "I'm glad you're here. I don't think I'll have very much notice when I go. I think I'll just start having pain, and then I'll be gone."

I'm thankful for the fact that he's here. I thought he might not make it after what happened a few weeks ago, but he did. Now I can be here on the weekends to see him. I'm spending my sleepless studying-for-finals nights in his room while he screams in pain. But at least I'm here.

I started this blog last year, and I hope no one ever finds it. I just need to get stuff out there so I can deal with it. It isn't like it makes for great conversation fodder with law school classmates. So thanks, e-void, for letting me vent.