Sorry to hear about your troubles Otto. Hang in there.
Otto, so very sad for this in your life. One little helpful hint; Be Angry, because this really does suck, as life goes. Take a tennis racket, or baseball bat, or whatever stick like thing handy, and Be Angry and whup the hell out of the pillows on your bed. Scream, and be ultimately pissed off, and wham the hell out of it.
Then, be prepared to cry alot, at least from my experience. The physical anger release ends up in a very good release of tears, which we are taught to hold in. Just damn cry if you need to, because you’re in that sad situation. After those tears, it’s often a sweet release from tension.
Sad, too, for you, and best thoughts for you through this all.
Good luck, Otto, getting though this time, and to the rest of your family, too, making the decisions that satisfy them. It sounds like a good hospice, and one of those levels of care should meet your parents’ physical and emotional needs.
Take care of yourself, and good luck dealing with the car stuff, too.
Oh, Otto, I’m so very sorry you are having to deal with this.
My brother called from a traffic jam in Nebraska (he lives in Colorado). My dad was moved from the hospital directly to hospice. I feel like there was a step skipped along the line. I had thought that Dad was going to be evaluated by physical and occupational therapists before any hospice decision would be made. That apparently didn’t happen.
I’ve been drinking for the last several hours. There’s a message on my answering machine and I’m afraid to listen to it.
Otto, you are in my thoughts and prayers, as is your family. Take it easy on yourself. I agree with those who have said it is ok to be angry, and that taking the time to do so can also help release some of your tears and stress. Go release some of this, rest, then gather your strength and listen to the message? comfort
My brother totally ratted me out to my mother. I told him more than once that I didn’t want my mother to know about the severity of the accident because she doesn’t need the stress. And he ratted me out anyway. She keft two messages on Saturday night with escalating levels of hysteria in her voice. I spoke with her briefly on Sunday and again last night and she understands that I’m unhurt. She may send some money to cover some of the repairs, which, yay money but thanks a heap brother dear for freaking her out.
The car is still in the shop, now in week two. Apparently the parts people aren’t calling the repair shop back so while they can fix some of the stuff like popping the roof back into shape they can’t handle the major issue, which is the bent rims. Which means they can’t test drive it to see if there are any more serious issues with the axles or the frame.
{{{Otto}}}
Be angry. Be sad. Be mournful, and terrified, and a wreck. It helps.
And then, when the worst of it is over, look back and shake your head at the general weirdness of the universe. Because just when you were an utter mess, with your heart in your throat and tears stinging your eyes, and horrified and lost pondering all of the awful things that you don’t know and you do know will happen, the cosmos apparently decided that what you needed most was a quart of potato salad to the head.
Life is bizarre. And life continues, despite itself. Could be worse, ultimately – at the very least, potato salad will remind you of your father forever.