Pictographic Divider


The fact that those who professed to be most supportive of my plight, most concerned and pleading, begging that I return to my roots where I could and would receive the comfort any family member deserves and should receive upon doctors believing that what is before you is life threatening, no option for a cure starring me in the mirror, are having what appears to be a joyous time of mocking that which the doctors have said over and over, is beyond appalling, its SHAMEFUL.

To walk through a room minding my own business, my back in spasms as I prepare to get on my bicycle and obtain groceries using my food stamp card is my purgative. To not even be offered a ride or asked if I could what until a ride was available is SHAMEFUL. For others to be told how much their life has been changed as they are my caregiver, not even knowing my list of medications, the quantity, when and why I take what I am prescribed is dangerously SHAMEFUL.

To have my physician deliver my prescriptions to the pharmacy as he has, unfortunately, heard the exchange about how unnecessary it is for me to be placed on another medication as if the person doing the speaking in the background had the medical degree in place of my physician and those he consults with is SHAMEFUL.

To have parents who know me as a child, treat me as such afraid I am going to 'burn their home down due to my careless antics' to the point that rules are put into place as to when I can and cannot cook and how that cooking should be done is SHAMEFUL. To look at the kitchen table with six place mats for sitting and only two cleared away for usage, is SHAMEFUL. To be mocked with the sounds of one vomiting in the background as if to imply that is who and what I am as it was done before, when I was thirteen and fourteen the same way, in the same manor, is SHAMEFUL.

To be asked time and time again to help with chores that do more damage to my body physically shows a lack of caring, a lack of understanding and the fact that the denial of my plight is so great it now has become a situation where by I have less or the same freedom I had as a thirteen year old, but not much older is SHAMEFUL.

To be accused time and time again for that which is a falsity, told so and disputed as another lie on my part is SHAMEFUL. To say I am not grateful for the roof placed over my head and do not respect those who cannot respect me as they do not know me is SHAMEFUL.

To know that I am scolded for not eating, accused of vomiting and being anorexic if I do eat and wasting food that I bought myself is SHAMEFUL, proving further the lack of knowledge those supposed to be closest to me and most concerned with my plight have, being so far removed from my medical truth is SHAMEFUL.

To know that I write my thoughts only for them to be paraphrased within a matter of hours if not a day or two and read to benefit the one doing the reading and making me look wrong for merely thinking and feeling is SHAMEFUL.

To know that promises were made, demands already put into motion without my consent or knowledge but to benefit the one making such demands is SHAMEFUL.

To know that this is the final phase of my life journey and truth is not spoken, I am told I have 'ruined a life ' for continuing to be alive and continuing to be here is SHAMEFUL.

To know that when another feels bad physically can be quiet, removed and alone but I am perceived as hiding something, plotting or being completely dishonest is SHAMEFUL.

And to know that I might die in an environment full of bantering and bickering when I lived peacefully on my own for almost twenty (20) years, not being told how and why every step of the way is SHAMEFUL and will make me fight harder so that I can shut the door on this chapter and leave, emotionally and physically damaged but left to die a peaceful existence with that which is most important, unconditional love, knowing it will never happen here and I was sold on an idea when I was most vulnerable, most fearful in and about life, is SHAMEFUL.

To hear who knew and who did not know I was or was not coming and the grudge being held that I remain alive by my own flesh and blood is beyond sad, but SHAMEFUL.


Blogger kj said...

eric, this is not working. it is not good. it seems beyond repair. can you find a case manager or advocate to help you find and move into a community residence, or even a room with adl or support services?

i have been reading your blog for a couple of years now, and you know i have no agenda here beyond your well being. but i say to you today to stop being a victim and get this taken care of. xo

9:08 PM  

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