My dad is living

I was told by mom today that my dad is at the end of the last stage of Parkinson’s disease. My brothers and sisters are with him right now. I keep saying don’t think that way. See the truth that he is living. He fell down and he is tired. He’s sleeping. We are crying as we talk.

I don’t know whether to feel angry or sad, maybe both. I’d been preoccupied with getting the occupation of utter crap out of my life. Hopefully I have sealed the envelope on it today; an envelope addressed to the Labor Department that contains documented proof that the company I was working for as a temporary was pushing me out via abuse, harassment and overwork. It wasn’t a secret. I told my agency several times, I told the supervisor twice. I even told another attorney who perpetually goes around in denial because abuse has its way of doing that to you; you become it. The place did not treat me equally to my permanent counterparts.

I just know my Dad will be there for me when I arrive. He’s the only thing good in this world. Yes, a selfish hope from myself. I’ll be there for my dad however long he chooses to live in this world.

Its always this way; my brother is telling me my Dad has only a few weeks to live. My Dad always prevails. My Dad looks at me as I cry and smiles. Why? I am just overcome by everything dad. He looks at me with such compassion. He’s been through junk. Doctors who just prey upon health problems that they know they don’t have a solution for. A nursing home where they just left him unattended, naked in feces. My mom is saying he’ll have to go back there. I am saying no, I’ll be there for him.

Every single one of his children are alive today and thriving; they are by his bedside right now. All his grandchildren and his one greatgrandchild. They are with him today. For that I am grateful.

He fell a couple of days ago. He has internal bleeding. He cannot swallow, he coughs. He sleeps all day. My baby sister just told me all this. He is 80 years living with a strong joy for life, to live. Parkinson’s disease has competed for 20 of those years. He stayed in his job for 40 years as Chief Chemist. That company stole his pension, later a group of employees fought and got half of it back. I cringe because I have had to work for the same kind of swill that did that to my father.

My dad’s disease is from his job. Go figure. Sure he’s had a somewhat more secure life than me for staying.

He was always upset that I never kept a job permanently. After being an officer at Columbia University for a year I decided to ride the beckoning technology calls. I was a high ranking consultant. Though that field is very suck egg right now I don’t regret at all the time I had in it. It took me to Sweden, all over the nation, through some incredible projects, really using my intellect and creativity. I was never a servant before this swill. I know that I am coming back to something even better. I am just sorry my dad will never be able to understand that actually I have been incredibly lucky. Even though I was being hosed by law firms by day I was receiving rewards in art and other creative endeavors by night.

Its only selfishness that makes me hold on. I just know I was in a taxi accident where I was bruised up very badly. On 8th avenue and the 50s. The City had not taken care of the highway and it was one slick piece of ice. About 30 cars slid into each other and buildings. No police rescued us. Its so surreal. The cab driver threatens me not to tell anyone. He drops me off at this law firm. I tell them and they act like so what else is new. I work the shift. I go home. I sleep two days. I wake up. Life goes on.

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