I am writing about my father. It is a long and sad story.
I remember him being very sick from a young age. crawling around looking like death, constantly vomiting with no relief. Multiple trips to the hospital. He was constantly refused treatment as doctors often assume they know everything and if they don't know what it is you must be a drug addict.
It's hard to convey the absolute injustices he has suffered through out the years and the callousness and closed minded approach of nearly every doctor encountered throughout the years save one. His sickness went away mysteriously for about ten years and when it reared its ugly head again I was the only one there to care for him. I had to quit high school to stay home and clean up vomit and boil water for hot baths as there was never enough hot water for the constant trips to hot water. when it came back again it was no longer just nausea but the most severe abdominal pain imaginable. Every morning like clock work he would have this horrible pain that had him screaming in anguish.
The pain I believe comes from the urge to have a bowel movement but that plumbing doesn't seem to work properly. the pain goes on and on and all I can do is..... it sounds strange but all I can do is dig my finger nails into his backside and pinch and pull and claw and this seems to work sometimes. I guess causing certain kinds of pain can distract him from the other kind. This goes on for hours until my nail beds are bruised and my hands ache so bad I can hardly move them and yet I can't stop because he's begging me to do something or anything.
If I can't do my job well enough the puking starts and it doesn't stop until he's severely dehydrated and having muscle spasms with sweat pouring off of him, the house is like an oven because of his cold sweats the heater is always on.
He won't let me take him to the hospital because of all the mistreatment he has suffered there, they even refuse to give him saline for his dehydration because they somehow think he's using that for drug addiction. It is like a witch hunt. these doctors and medical personnel are always looking for a drug addict.
The pain he suffers is so far beyond what a drug addict suffers from withdrawals. I found him a doctor finally who gave him adequate pain relief. Dilaudid is what he finally ended up with after morphine reached the max.
Because of that saintly doctor that must have been one of a kind I was able to have a life of my own finaly. I had my first boyfriend at the age of 19 and had a baby.
After moving back in with my dad last year, his doctor retired and now his medicine is gone. I can't take care of him and a two year old, I'll go crazy. How can I be a good mother and help my father? I don't know what to do.