Notices by Charles ☭ H (celesteh@lgbt.io), page 5

Well my dad can now get calls from me.

Me: Hi dad, how are you?

Dad: I'm waiting to die.

Me: Um, well, did you have a good lunch today?

Dad: I can't really taste anything.

Me: You've lost your sense of taste?

Dad: Yes.

Me: Do you want me to send you hot sauce?

Dad: No.

A big part of me thinks I should put off my flight until my dad is released from hospital, which really ought to happen very soon. Its not good to keep him there for too long. Its disorienting and he's lying in bed all day, which is not good.

But it is so hostile around here.

My birth family all chose to move here recently. They actively chose this.

Plano is a diverse place that's full of migrants and seems to have an alternative scene, but the overwhelming vibe is fucking grim.

Apparently his vitamin shenanigans have been going on for months and an MRI suggests that some of what's happened to his brain is permanent.

Warning signs that we missed include getting pills from a chiropractor, which is a huge, flashing red flag.

But this is not a problem with an individualist solution. This could have been more easily averted if:

* Large vitamin doses should not be OTC. The supplement industry should be regulated to ensure the pills are safe.

* The chiropractic supplement sideline has got to stop. This must be regulated. Anyone dispensing supplement advice should have appropriate training based on evidence.

* The wellness industry is an online harm far greater than anything currently on the UK legislative agenda. Wellness advice is dangerous and is fundamentally underpinned by anti-autistic hostility. This is because of how closely aligned it is with the anti-vax movement. Wellness supplements are a major funding source for fascism. Their propaganda starts at neurobigotry and goes from there to the grand unified conspiracy theory of doom. People giving dangerous medical advice should be stopped. *

* OK, no I don't know. Obviously I don't want to arrest people with chronic disabilities sharing health advice and that's the most likely outcome of a carceral solution. There need to be some major intervention here, though.

And possible lung cancer which we will not be investigating because quality of life.

My plane is boarding.

Dad has been told about his diagnosis and is very unhappy about it.

I rang him today. He couldn't answer his phone without help. He said he was sorry for having dementia.

I said he would still have good days and bad days and could have more good days by eating and sleeping enough, and doing the physical and mental therapy on offer.

He said, "why bother?"

I said, we are all changing all time.time, but there are always opportunities to seize moments of happiness.

He said, "OK" in a very defeated voice.

Maybe I should have stayed in Texas longer.

Everyone over 80 in my family has gotten dementia (and skin cancer) so I guess this is my future too, if I live long enough. I guess I have about 30 years to make peace with that.

My dad has much less time and probably won't remember from one day to the next.

He said he was sad he wouldn't have a chance to say goodbye properly as he "disappears into [his] own head."

I didn't know what to say. What does one say? Only a very few people get to say proper goodbyes. Its so rare, the Catholic Church includes it as a consideration in sainting people.

I didn't say that. I talked about change and suggested listening to music. Because what does one say?

When my dad moved into the home he was pissed off about and refused to take anything familiar like furniture or art or any of his normal touchstones and now, roughly a fortnight on, he has declined precipitously and needs to move I to what is euphemistically called "memory care."

An entirely predictable but alarmingly rapid outcome.

I am so angry with him.

For fucking himself over at every fucking opportunity.

Trying to "honour his wishes" and "respect his autonomy" was fucking bullshit. All his "wishes" were just threats of self harm, which we acceded to and now he's fucking harmed.

Dad is being physically relocated to memory care next week and is enrolling in hospice today I guess.

This is just aging.

This is the fault of YouTube.

This is my fault.

This is his fault.

This is G-d's fault.

This is.

Dad is being relocated to memory care at a different facility nearer my brother's house.

His decline continues at dizzying speed.

I'm supposed to have surgery in June but I feel like I should just go back to Texas and avoid shopping malls, I guess.... If I stay here, there'll just be a conflict with his funeral.

I feel enormously terrible about how the conversation went and, like, next time I know not to ask him to talk about his fears, but I really think this is one of those times where I figure out what to do too late.

My SIL has been telling me that he's rarely lucid and I got those few moments and lead to him wishing for death. And, like, it's not like his doom loops are novel. I should have seen this coming.

It is really hard to chat with somebody who can't remember yesterday, has no plans for tomorrow and who didn't like lunch.

I had a phone consult today for my own (much delayed) scheduled surgery.

Me: How long do I have to wait after the surgery to travel in a family emergency?

Surgeon: How long is the flight?

Me: Ten hours.

Surgeon, perturbed: At least four weeks. But be aware that if you have a problem, your insurance won't cover you.

Me: I'd be going to Texas, so I'd have to come back here anyway. Insurance coverage would not get me care.

Surgeon: Well, even if you just have an infection.

Between, you, me and the while of the fediverse, I really don't think insurance is the major obstacle with "just an infection". I doubt I could get help from a GP at all.

The surgeon said I could reschedule, but, I mean, this whole thing could go on for months or years. Or it might end tomorrow. No doctor will give a prognosis. The head nurse at the care room says people declining at dad's rate tend to live about a year.

And when I say this surgery is "much delayed", I mean that it was supposed to happen in 2013. I hope I'm the spiders Georg of being messed around, but I suspect I'm not.

My SIL texted me to say my dad is barely alive, so I rang up and we said I love you to each other and I tried asking a couple of stupid questions and he couldn't answer so I guess I waited too long.

Then a fire alarm went off in the hospital I'm in, so I hung up and I feel like I should call back, but what does one say to a dying man over the phone?

Somebody tell me what to say

I've asked to be rung back when he wakes up.

(If he wakes up?)

Hospice nurse says its a few days to a week probably, but who can tell.

They're saying a day or two now.

I'm never going to see him again.

I can't even fly out for weeks because I just had surgery. Was this enormously selfish? Maybe, idk.

I made a choice