Last Stop Before Boarding the Train Home

My father has gone to hospice. It is very doubtful that he will ever go home again. He is in too much pain and too weak. I'm going to go with my son to see him later this afternoon.

I'm glad he's in hospice and not the nursing home. The hospice center is beautiful. He hated the nursing home whenever had had to go there for rehab.

Not much else to say. There's so much I wish I could tell him. I wish that I had learned about my bipolar disorder ten--or better yet twenty--years ago so I could have been treated and not gone into raging outbursts at him the way I did for so many years. He was a loving but--believe me--an incredibly abrasive and controlling person and he always managed to push my buttons. I would rail at him, throw things, scream. My risk-taking behaviors were very painful to him. I wish that I had been like I became after the age of 38 when I was diagnosed--but particularly the way I've become in the past year--a lot sooner.

I'm glad he held on for this long. But he's in too much pain and it's time for him to go now.

Happy Thanksgiving, people. I mean that. Have a good one with your family, whichever family is best for you.

Love,

Faycin