Life Sux

Sorry for the wording, but it does.

My father is now a widower for the second time. And he’s not doing ok with it-understandably. The first time, I hear he wept and wept daily. This time, I only witnessed tears on the day of my mother’s funeral. It was terrible.

And now it is worse. He’s been in and out of hospital this week. He was sitting in a chair on Tuesday and suddenly couldn’t breathe, lost consciousness…Ambulance took him to the nearby day hospital and two days later they discharged him.

That very same night, it happened again and he’s now back in hospital. And this is not a nice hospital. It’s government, not private. And one of the worst I’ve been in, in a terrible area.

When I used to visit my mom, I was always shocked by the bullet holes in the glass doors. Gone are those doors. It’s now heavy metal bars that someone inside controls. You can’t walk in… And same with the gate. You get out your car, greet some guy who is probably be a gangster (Svhool children get shot to death en route to school in this area for Coloured people), and have to wait for the automated gate to be opened by someone else. A guard whose shed I think is bullet proof. And there are many security gates before you can enter the actual ward areas.

You come out, and the guy who could be a gangster is still there talking to you, telling you he kept your car from being stolen. And you know…Though nobody ever stole your car before, you have to thank him by giving him money.

The ward is one large ward for men and women. Lights on always. Shouting by the demented or psychotic patients mingles with the moans of those in pain.

No aircon in this cold weather. No warm blankets. My dad had two from home and still felt cold.

I went to the hospital again yesterday afternoon and was told he’d be discharged. There was no doctor with whom to discuss his diagnosis. They didn’t tell him anything. They gave us prednisone and when I asked the nurse why, she said it was for his chest. He wasn’t coughing or anything but get…

Just a few hours later, after getting home, it happened again. Lost consciousness and difficulty breathing. Again, my sister had to go to the nearest police station to meet the ambulance there. In our Black areas, some criminals attack ambulances amongst other types of vehicles, so the ambulance needed a police escort.

This time, the diagnosis is epilepsy-no brain scan done. I hope a doctor witnessed an attack. I hope they know what they are doing, I wish I could ask them myself.

As for me? Pain. I have some swelling and pain and hard lump where the needle was removed, and my body is just bad. I emailed my rheumatologist to ask where we are in the process to get my meds covered by medical aid, and emailed the surgeon to ask about the increased pain.

None have responded. Emailed rheumy six days ago and surgeon a day ago.

Sigh

My poor dad.