Last Tuesday we made the decision to let Kane go. He was my baby for 12 and a half years. I fought like hell to keep him alive most of his life. Then one day, it just hit me… He wasn’t having fun anymore. He wasn’t able to walk around the house even, he was having accidents which upset him. He wasn’t able to stand to eat, Monday he wasn’t able to stand to drink. He panted almost constantly, he coughed more and more, he got up and down a lot like he couldn’t get comfortable. I didn’t really plan on doing it Tuesday, I thought I’d have more time but there one thing that was super important to me:
He NEVER have to go back to the vet again, so we’d do it at home. He’d be surrounded by us, and know he was loved.
I’d called a mobile vet back in November when he was first diagnosed with a lung tumor and we decided not to operate. So I called her again. She said she was booked and leaving town, no way she could do it. I was super upset because I didn’t know of anyone else that comes out and I really didn’t want him to have to go back to the vet. A few minutes later she texted me and said she’d had a cancellation and could do it at 1:30 that day.
I wasn’t prepared for that, but I told her yes. I immediately bailed out from work, I didn’t care. I wanted to spend the last few hours with him. He was thrilled I was home, we fed him cookies and goodies. He napped and slowly followed me around. The vet showed up and our other dog freaked out, she barked at her, I kind of wonder if she knew what was up. But I’m probably just projecting.
We let Kane go, I don’t know if it was the right choice, if it was too soon, or if I was being selfish. I do know I hurt. I hurt in a way that’s indescribable. I’m lost, I’ve lost my shadow, my companion, my heart. But I know he’s not in pain anymore and any amount of pain for me is ok, because it means I loved him that much.
I like to imagine he’s with my dad now, able to run free and eat whatever he wants. I like to imagine he’ll be there when my time comes as well, waiting for me.
So after meeting with the surgeon yesterday and updating my pain levels. He immediately went to you need total knee replacement mode. Which makes me happy because it gives me an answer. We did discuss a Fulkerson’s procedure a little bit but I already have arthritis and because my kneecap is so far out he’s not sure he could get it to hold. He also said it’d just be buying me a few years before I’d need a total knee replacement anyways. Yes, I’m young, but I have serious deformities to my knee(s) and serious damage caused from that as well.
So now is my time to freak out. I have SO many questions. Apparently there’s a boot camp (ironic name right?) that he’d like me to attend.
I’m waiting on the surgery scheduler to call me and pick a date, it sounds like it could happen pretty quickly which is scary. I’m also a bit lost on getting my insurance in order etc. as I’ve never had insurance when needing surgery and I’m not entirely sure how all that works. I am glad that I previously found out they’ll only cover one hospital in town and none of the surgery centers, so at least I know that. The down side — it’s the hospital my dad died at. So some mixed feelings about that. I had my MRI there a few weeks ago, walking into the hospital alone is weird, brings back a lot feelings that I thought I’d mostly processed. So being stuck in there for 2-3 days… I’ll live but I’m weird about it. Probably being overdramatic.
Now it’s a matter of getting everything in order before surgery, and hoping my old boy doesn’t decide now is the time because he’s not been doing great lately. I toy with letting him go before surgery…. I don’t know how he’s going to fare without me. That sort of seems unfair, but I don’t know if he’ll survive and I’d rather do it while I’m home than have it happen while I’m in the hospital. So there’s that too.
I got very little sleep last night, my knee hurts, I had dreams about surgery and bank accounts and other weird things. So I’m living on coffee today. All I want is to curl up back in bed and pretend my life is perfect.
Nothing much to report really, I go back to the surgeon on Wednesday. I had an “OK” weekend mood wise. I am in considerably more pain, and with the pain the feeling of instability is increasing too. I attempted a walk down to the mailbox without my walker (but with my bf in tow, just in case). I made it there but my knee was really wonky on the way back. It was achy and there was some shooting pain on the inside of where I’d imagine a normal person’s kneecap would be. I can’t hurry so I just had to tough it out and slowly make my way back. I tried several things this weekend to see if this is all just in my head or what, because I feel like I’m being treated like it is. I’m not just scared to walk, there is something wrong with my knee and now, day 7 without Aleve, it’s actually quite painful at times. I guess that’s maybe a good thing.
Mood wise I don’t feel quite so depressed, I feel more angry now. I’m angry that all my life I’ve been put off, that I’ve been blamed for my knee problems, told it was my weight and if I’d simply just lose weight it’d be better. Then to find out over 30 years later that there’s actually a pretty severe deformity in my knee… I’m having a hard time with that. I know it is not the current surgeon’s fault, but I feel like he has similarly put me off. Though being 100lbs lighter, I’m not sure I can really blame it on my weight, but I am still overweight, so maybe it is. But if not, what is it about me that makes people think not important? I guess that’s what’s really been messing with my mind lately.
Dealing with some insurance woes as the physical therapy clinic didn’t pre-authorize my sessions despite me telling them they needed to and them assuring me they had. So now I may be on the hook for about $600 in physical therapy. So this is something I am going to have to watch very carefully in the future. And when I called the doctors office (PT is an extension of the same place), I was told I have an outstanding bill, to which I responded I had mailed a check earlier in the week so they should have it shortly if they didn’t already. But then was told I had not paid “any of my co-pays.” I informed them not only had I paid my co-pay prior to every single appointment, but they had double billed me twice for them. Upon a closer look into my account they see where I have but for some reason whoever is applying my payments isn’t applying them correctly. Also not a super great confidence building experience. I have a friend who works at this facility, in billing none the less, and another friend asked why I hadn’t talked to her about it. I simply responded because she seems annoyed when I ask her about things, especially when I’m having issues with them. And that’s the truth, the last time I asked something of her I got the response of “well what do you want me to do?” So I no longer ask for help, nor do I really blame her, I am hurt by the response, but maybe I ask too much of people.
My older boy isn’t doing really well, I’m scared I’m going to lose him soon. He doesn’t seem to want to eat without coaxing, he’s coughing more. I just pray if that’s what’s happening if happens before I get surgery or after I’m home if I end up having surgery. We’ve already kind of made arrangements for it to happen at home, it’s just such a difficult thing to “plan”, so that’s our plan for right now. It’s like when one thing happens 5 other bad things happen too, though his decline isn’t completely unexpected. We’ve had him around a lot longer than I expected. I really didn’t think after they told me he had a lung tumor in October that he’d make it through the holidays. But here we are 9 months later. I do sometimes wonder if I’m doing the wrong thing, but everyone says I’ll know when it’s time. I just pray I do.
Met with the surgeon yesterday, he is not thrilled about operating on someone who has a pain level of 2-3. Apparently they really like you to be in massive pain before they do something about it. I’m not a normal case though, I have structural problems with my knee, forcing my kneecap outwards and it now sits in a place that makes subluxations and dislocations much more possible. My kneecap has sat in the wrong place so long it’s actually worn a groove in it from the bone pressing on bone. There is no other procedure to fix this now that I have arthritis in my knee, it’s this or live with it.
My problem, I do not understand this concept of pain. Maybe I’m lucky in that sense. Let me elaborate, things hurt yes, but it’s not unrelenting pain. It’s sharp stabs and soreness and it makes things uncomfortable. The other catch, my other knee, the one that isn’t hanging out in limbo, as far as I know, hurts way worse than this one probably ever has. I fell on it a few years ago and it’s hurt ever since, but it hurt and was tight before that even. I also cut it all the way to the bone as a kid, so who knows? But same thing, at the time, I went and got x-rays, they told me I have horrific arthritis in that knee and I need a knee replacement but I’m too young. I was also too fat at that time, so lose weight.
It seems I’m always something that prevents me from being “fixed.” Too young, too fat, too poor, too something. I’m 41 and 100lbs lighter. Now what? not enough pain.
So I have an appointment in a week, I am supposed to stop taking my 4 daily Aleve and see if it’s possibly “masking the pain.” So I didn’t take any last night and I didn’t take any this morning. Everything hurts. My knee hurts, my other knee hurts worse, my hip hurts, my lower back hurts, my neck hurts, hell my head hurts. It’s it psychosomatic? Maybe?
So now “I” have to make the choice. Am I in enough pain to risk lifelong pain but never have to worry about my knee dislocating again? Is instability a good enough reason to risk pain? I know which way I’m leaning but it feels selfish. It feels like I’m crazy for wanting to go through pain and risk pain to get “normal.” Though I’ve never known what normal is, I don’t know what it’s like to not worry about falling constantly. I have given up so much in my life because of my knees. Mentally I’m not sure I can deal with a walker and shower chair and living my life waiting to be “in enough pain” to fix my leg. I’ve struggled with depression most my life and this seems like enough to be done. To make life not worth living anymore. It scares me that I feel that way, that something so simple could make life not worth living. But I have already given up so much, to ask me to give up more…. it feels like no.
About every two years I get desperate and alone enough to post here. Not that anyone’s listening or reading this but because I have nowhere else to turn. I need somewhere to purge all my feelings without them being judged. I don’t need someone to save me or fix me (well maybe – but more on that later). I just need someone to hear me, and while this isn’t a someone, it’s a something, and it’s all I’ve got.
My entire life I’ve had wonky knees. I remember falling and “hurting” my left knee for the first time when I was maybe 9 or 10, I very well could have been younger. I just remember falling and immense pain and no one knew what happened. From that point forward this happened a lot to me, my “knee would go out” I’d fall, it’d hurt, it’d swell up, I’d go on with my life until next time. I even did some stupid science project about it but really as far as I know, no one knew what was wrong or why it was doing it. As I got older it happened more and more, in little league I never had to run laps due to my knee. I blew it out in Senior League and ended up quitting because of it (well that and the kid who would not stop touching my ass in the dugout). I played basketball my freshman and half of my sophomore year, that’s really the first time I remember hurting my right leg, in the same manner… but like pain times 20. I think at this point I’d become pretty overweight and the main suggestion on what was wrong with my knees was …. well you’re fat… lose weight. Gotcha.
So lets attempted to count that up. By age 16 my knee(s) had limited what I could do in life pretty significantly. I didn’t see it that way then, but I sure do now. I loved baseball but I quit because I couldn’t run, I couldn’t run laps, I was afraid of falling, not just because of the pain but because it was embarrassing, no one else I knew just toppled over because their knee gave out. As far as I know the consensus was I needed to lose weight. I didn’t, so who knows, it might of helped. I even attempted to get my mom to send me to a fat camp one summer… she said she would then at the last minute she said no. We didn’t have the money so I don’t know why I ever thought I’d get to go. Maybe because it meant so much to me, but that didn’t matter. Regardless… no weight loss, kept getting fatter.
As a young adult I fell more, I fell on ice, I fell while out drinking, I blew out my right knee again pretty bad when a guy at the bar picked me up and tried to throw me (I was way over 200lbs at the time, wtf was he doing?). I fell at work as a janitor coming down slippery stairs after taking the trash to the dumpster. I fell pushing shopping carts back to the store when I worked for lowes. I fell down the stairs to my apartment while attempting to carry laundry down. I fell getting out of the truck because it was slippery and my foot slipped. I fell on dry ground because I’d stepped wrong. I fell…. and I got up. And I pretended like nothing had happened because I was scared of totally blowing out my knee and I thought if I could get back up, it showed I was ok. I had one big scare with my right knee after falling crossing the parking lot at work. I didn’t think I was going to be able to get back up or walk, but I did, and 6 months of physical therapy later it was ok. It hurts a lot, but I can walk. So I’ve fallen and gotten my ass back up more than anyone I know. Until now. And I didn’t even fall this time.
Almost 3 months ago, and now having lost almost 100lbs so I’d done “the work” to never have knee problems again. Anyway, I had a busy day planned, go to a health fair, get my blood work done, get my oil changed, repair the fence latches, clean up the yard, etc etc etc. So I did it, and I did it all, something my bf repeatedly tells me NOT to do. But I insist on doing because well I’m a tough gal and I don’t need nobody. I stood in line this day for like hours, which bugged my knees but I pushed on because nobody likes a whiner. I mean hell there’s people in Africa that can’t even stand! or something like that. So suck it up. So I did. I didn’t stop, I kept pushing and I was feeling quite full of myself and I found a “lucky” penny on the ground that day and just as I was finishing up putting the second latch on the gate and my day was almost done, I took a step. And something popped. In the back of my left knee. Like behind my knee. Not my knee. I never fell, I never even staggered. I just thought “whoa weird, that kinda hurt” and decided it was time to sit down. Especially since it was my good/bad knee (ie it’s good because it doesn’t even hurt anymore when it goes out and bad because it goes out A LOT, but at least it doesn’t hurt, mkay?). After sitting for maybe a half hour I discovered I couldn’t hardly walk, the crook of my knee was so painful I could barely put weight on it. I just thought I’d pulled something and it’d be fine in a few days. And it kinda did. Until I decided to be pissy and mow the lawn because my bf wasn’t doing it fast enough. And then it was back to like day 1. So a month went by with me barely being able to walk but pushing myself because I’m not a wimp. But in the back of my mind… I knew something was wrong. It didn’t feel right, something felt off, when I stood too long it felt like my kneecap was slipping and my leg was going to collapse. Begrudgingly, after lots of crying, I decided to make an appointment with the orthopedist. Thinking maybe I just need some more PT and it’ll be all good again!
So off I go and get X-rays, and the PA walks in and looks frankly at me and says “I’ve never seen anything like this before in my life.” Eh what? So he slaps up the x-rays and my kneecap is sitting….. on the outside edge of where it should be. Not like in the middle of my leg… not even remotely. It’s severely subluxed (new word I like to throw around all the time now). It’s not dislocated, but it’s hanging out in an area of like almost but not quite but if it moves a bit my knee will collapse because apparently subluxing is what I’ve been doing my whole goddamn life. I just now have a word for it. I somehow manage to convince this guy that a little bit of PT will fix me right up and off I waddle to go to physical therapy twice a week for two months. I spend my birthday, 4th of july weekend and now the majority of summer unable to really walk all that well. I also can’t straighten my leg voluntarily on my own. So like two sessions into physical therapy I mention to my physical therapist that I’m going to go ahead and get an MRI so they can see what’s wrong with my knee and my physical therapist looks at me and says “I think we’re wasting your money here, there is nothing I can do that will move your kneecap over into a position it should sit in.” Mkay, so got discharged from physical therapy after just two visits. To his credit, I REALLY like him, I feel he has my best interest in mind and his concern was more that my co-pay was $70 a visit and he’s really not able to do anything to fix me. He even calls the PA and talks to him about potential plans because I’m so worked up over the what-ifs that I basically melt down in his presence. All because my ass can’t stay off the internet and has goggled every possible procedure known to man and decided that I’m most likely going to need an osteotomy where they cut your damn knee off and realign it and it’s horrifically painful and takes 6-8 weeks of non weight bearing to recover from. And that’s best case. Most people take much longer and aren’t fully recovered for like a year to a year and a half. But it fixes them so woot! PA and Physical Therapist confer and sure enough Fulkerson’s (type of osteotomy), lateral release and MPFL reconstruction. So 3 things, 3 very very painful things… well ok 2 painful things and one just kinda ouchy one but still. 3 g-d things to my knee. Cue the freak out. 3-2-1 yeah. Uncontrollable crying. Somewhere in here my mom came and stayed a day because I’m a mess… etc etc etc.
Also…. medical shit’s slow people. There is no just pop in and get a little MRI and pop over and see what it said and then pop in and fix it. No. there’s ask for an MRI, wait for your cut rate insurance to hem and haw over if you really need it, wait two weeks for appointment, wait 30 minutes extra in the waiting room an hour in a paper gown trying to play your games on your cell phone in an area with NO SIGNAL while the guy in front of you loses. his. shit. and you’re kinda freaked out because you’ve never had an MRI before and you’re all alone (damn fucking why do I always insist I’ll be fine and I’m tough and I don’t fucking need anyone, I DO NEED SOMEONE, I’m WEAK and SCARED). Regardless so you finally get taken back (oh and by the way they make you take out all your piercings and you’re kinda pissy about it because even though you’re 41, this is your shiz) and while you let out a little freaked out giggle when they first slid you in the machine you are able to hold your shit together to get the dang thing done. Thank god for the multiplication tables because really that’s the only thing that kept me from bolting out of there like a wounded elk-gazelle crossbreed. So yea I’m a nerd. Then it’s like another week to go talk to the dr so he can tell you what the MRI said. Which is…..
You have a shallow groove so your knee cap really has no place to go, its like not really deep enough to guide it so it just flails about all willy nilly wherever it wants to. Gee has it been this way your entire life? I mean like uh…. how. the. fuck. would. I know? It doesn’t LOOK weird, I mean it’s not like with my fat fat legs I can even tell WHERE my kneecap is. Let alone if it’s normal. Also I’ve got a torn meniscus, some random floaty thing in there that’s probably a foreign body, ie. piece of bone or some shit. Maybe it’s what’s left of my twin I didn’t eat. Who the hell knows. I also have… badum! Osteoarthritis! Isn’t that exciting? Kinda already knew that… or I know that my other knee has it from when I hurt it and they basically said “oh gee you knee a knee replacement cuz your knee is just riddled with arthritis but gee you’re only 38 so no! Gotta just live with it, here’s some PT and take some Aleeve!” But yea, this knee has it, though I assume not nearly as bad because it’s never felt like as big of an asshole as my right knee does. But none the less, I have it, it has me, we’re a giant happy family. So now…. the moment of truth. Osteotomy? No probably not. I’ve got arthritis already and really what the cutty of the bone thingie does is just delay a Total Knee Replacement (TKR). Blink. Blink. Well I’m too young for that. Except, turns out they do them occasionally in people my age and younger when need be but it’s basically known that I’ll have to have another later in life because it’ll wear out. So. Now. I’m officially old.
I’m still in the middle of this process and I’m still freaking out on almost a daily basis. I just today got an appointment with the surgeon to find out what it is he really wants to do because up until now it’s just mostly a PA of some other Dr. telling me gee we all agree you need this but I’ve not actually talked to the surgeon or anyone on his team. But Monday I have that appointment, to which I’ll go alone. Because well I’m honestly an asshole and I’ve managed to alienate like… everyone? Some of them kinda deserved it. Like my mom should probably not be telling me she’s worried about how hooked I’m going to get on pain meds before I even say yes to surgery. Or repeatedly mentioning that she had her ACL repair with no pain meds what so ever. She’s also stayed awake for damn near every surgery they’ll allow her to. I am not my mother. I don’t know what my pain tolerance is like. I’ve had one surgery and that was my gallbladder out and I think I took 2-3 days worth of pain meds but they kept making me fall asleep and I didn’t like it and I couldn’t drive with them so I quit? Kinda different though. They kinda cut and grind off your bone in this… and flay your knee open… and lord knows what else (well lets hope the surgeon knows). So there’s that which made me kinda try to head that conversation off at the pass which was a mistake to do, and an even bigger mistake to do in front of my brother, who then stormed off. Left me sobbing trying to talk to my mom, who says I can talk to her about anything but if I say anything about feeling suicidal or hopeless or depressed get told “we don’t talk about those things.” So yeah I can’t talk to her about annnnything exactly. Just happy things about how strong I am and how I’m going to get this new knee shove it in myself and just take off running, with no pain meds!
My bf is so sick of hearing about my knee that I’m surprised he hasn’t dumped me and bailed. He’s also an asshole though. He’s an asshole who cares but doesn’t care. He will always be #1 on his list so what’s happening to me has really no bearing on him. Which… I guess that’s how most people are? I’m kinda not, I’m always trying to please everyone else even if it hurts me or what not. I blame myself when my brother gets a DWI, that’s me, and that’s so fucking mental that I probably need years of therapy but not gonna happen. Regardless, he’s got his issues, I’ve got mine. He’s still here but I think he just wants this to be over so I’ll stop randomly freaking out over stuff I don’t know anything about and asking him stuff and changing my mind and feeling bad because he now has to mow the lawn and take out the trash and do all the stuff I used to and now can’t. Yet he still can’t put a dish in the sink. Ugh I digress, this isn’t about his terrible habits but I mean REALLY, is it THAT hard? No. No it is not.
But yea, at 41 I’m probably going to have a total knee replacement. At 41. Sorry I’m just stuck on the fact that I’m 41 because really up until now I still felt like I was saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay 26 or so? But in the past few months I’ve had to eat crow and use a walker which I’m sure makes that “oh you look so young” thing mean nothing now. I’m using a goddamn walker. No point in getting rid of the greys now, gonna just embrace them and also can I start wearing polyester pants suits now? Cuz that shit looks comfy. But I guess Monday’s the day… to find out, to make a decision. Part of me wants it done, the thought of not having to worry about my knee subluxing is like amazingly exciting (although instability and dislocations are a complication of TKR, Thanks Google!) . But part of me doesn’t want to have to deal with any of this. Not at my age. Not right now. I think I’m long past that point though. Part of me wants to run away and hide from it all. Except the goddamn wheel on my walker squeaks so like everyone will just be able to follow that shit and find me. And I’m using a walker, and I haven’t ran since I was like… 16? So running isn’t a real thing I can do anymore, or probably ever again. But yeah, I can’t avoid dealing with this, or really ignore it anymore. But it’s scary and it sucks and I don’t wanna. I want to say I’m going to use this space to document how this all goes because really there’s zero information out there about having this done at my age, save for a few warnings and also there’s zero out there about having it done for what’s wrong with me either. But honestly I don’t know if I will. I want to. Not that anyone listens to me or can find this. I feel like over the next year or so things are going to be hard and I’m going to need “somebody” to listen again.
2016 was pretty awful. 2017 is shaping up to be just about as bad if not worse. The positives, I did finally graduate college, I even kept my 4.0 despite my father passing away in the middle of everything. I’m still with my fiance so I haven’t managed to fuck that up completely. We’re supposed to be getting new floors this summer, we’ve even paid for part of them.
Then there’s the bads. My grandma is going to die, she has liver cancer and may only have a few months to live. My mom has thickening of her intestines, which could mean cancer again. Kane is not going to be around much longer if we can’t get his IBD under control. I fell and royally forked up my knee at the beginning of December, it’s still not back to normal and I just started physical therapy a week ago.
I feel like I am drowning in no good stuff. I feel like there’s never going to be a time again where I think things are ok. I can’t relate to anyone at work, I can’t relate to anyone at home. I feel isolated and alone and like it’s always going to be this way. I don’t even know why I’m writing, it’s not like anyone reads it.
A little over a month ago my dad had a stroke, things were getting better then all the sudden they weren’t. He went into congestive heart failure and was building up water. They moved him to the cardiac unit because in the rehab unit they can’t really give him IV drugs to combat that water buildup. After about a week in the cardiac unit I called my mom to see how things were going, she told me she thought I should come over as soon as possible. I’d been out shopping, thinking things were just holding steady, they weren’t. I got to the hospital and my dad informed me he was done, he was tired and he no longer wanted any treatments, he just wanted to die. I was sad but I also didn’t blame him. We called my brother, who was on the slope at the time, he started the process of getting home, we just hoped it’d be in time. During the time between when we stopped treatment and my brother got back, my dad asked me several times to kill him, that request will probably haunt me forever. I tried explaining that I couldn’t, that it’s illegal, that it’s not something he’d want me to do, but he just got angry and turned away from me.
My brother got back and barged in and insisted my dad reconsider, told him it was ok if he’d changed his mind. Shortly after that conversation, the doctor came to talk to us, he told us there was no getting better for my dad, it was just making him comfortable until he passed. They’d tried every drug combination possible to fix his congestive heart failure, but none of them worked, his heart was just too weak. I guess my brother accepted that, we did take the doctors recommendation and put him on a morphine pump to make him more comfortable. I never saw my dad conscious again after they put him on that pump. There’s so much I wish I had the guts to say before that, that I’ll never have the chance to say now. My dad died on March 31, 2015, I don’t know exactly what time, but it was around 7pm. I didn’t want to ever watch someone die, I can’t get the image out of my head, but I wouldn’t have wanted to not be there either. I don’t want to remember my mom crying, saying she just wasn’t ready to let him go, or the stone cold look on my brother’s face, but it’s all there in my head, forever. I wanted to be a coward, to run and hide and deny it was happening and when it was done, I just wanted to go home and sleep forever. My mom made me call my fiance’ and he came home, but I really just wanted to be alone.
My dad was pretty modest, he didn’t want a funeral, he and my mom both want to be cremated and thier ashes spread back in Gakona, where they had built thier home and lived the majority of thier life. So that’s what we did, the three of us took him up there and spread his ashes. A handful of people from the community showed up, people I haven’t seen in probably 10-15 years. I’m not surprised though, there wasn’t anyone who met my dad that he didn’t ultimately end up being friends with. And a lot of those people in the community had been helped out by my dad in some way. The things my dad did in life were really amazing, from being a hunting guide, to building his own cabin in the middle of the wilderness so marrying my mom and them building a home in Gakona out of basically nothing. I guess having known him for so long I take for granted these things aren’t just things “normal” people do, he was an extraordinary man and did amazing things that touched many people’s lives.
So now he’s gone, his ashes have been spread, and I just feel numb, or at least until recently I’ve just felt numb. Tuesday I spent the day sobbing and angry, to the point that I called in sick to work. At night I’m kinda prone to break down and cry, especially when I’m alone which is a lot now that my fiance’ has a different job working nights. I also get VERY angry. My friend broke her ankle the other day, 87 people offered to help, my dad died, 28 people said something about it, and some of the people who I thought I was the closest to, never said a word. I guess finding out that I really don’t have any friends and I’m really that alone in the world hurts, a lot. To top everything off my ex-best friend, who hasn’t spoken to me since October, finally un-friended me on Facebook. Am I surprised? not really, am I hurt, I’m not even sure, It’s just weird. It’s like everything in the past year has changed so much that I no longer know what life is really supposed to look like. I’m not sure if I will feel like this forever, I hope not because I feel like I’m a mix between heartless and insane most the time.
My fiance’ has been going a bit insane lately too, staying out late after work, not answering phone calls, not answering texts. I don’t know what’s up with him and I feel like it’s all my fault. I want to ask him what he’d think if I just didn’t come home from work one day, didn’t answer my phone, didn’t answer my texts, then rolled in 4-5 hours later acting like it was no big thing. I actually went out looking for him last Saturday night, he laughed at me, which just made me angrier. He said maybe the solution is him moving out, but I don’t want that, but I also can’t live wondering. Why is it so hard to pick up a phone? Why is it so hard to tell me he’s ok? Or do I just not matter enough to bother?
I’m angry a lot and maybe that’s wrong… I was going to write a post on the things I wished I had said to my father before he died, I think I’ll save that for later because I’m already weepy.