Great start to the day...not.

I have just had a flashback of thoughts from yesteryear. Something my Mum and I always thought happened but we were never certain. His carer arrived, she is one of the regulars so he knows her quite well by now. Her first task is to unleash the catheter night bag, empty it and throw it away in the outside bin. This morning she had rolled over the bottom of his duvet by 30cms and uncovered his feet to get to said bag. I heard her tell him she would be back soon but he should get up in the meantime. She came into the kitchen and I told her about the physiotherapist coming yesterday to give him various leg exercises to do.

I went to explain to him that he should do the exercises back on his bed when he is dressed before he has his breakfast in the lounge. So he can keep warm. As I entered his bedroom, I could hear her coming out of the bathroom. Before I could say anything he ragingly lashed out verbally at me to cover up his feet as she had left the covers undone. She came in to see this happening and as soon as he saw her, his face relaxed and he just gently told her that he was cold as she had uncovered his feet. But she had seen and heard what he is like with me. She apologised and said she thought he was going to get up while she was out of the room.

The memories came flooding back. My Mum and I knew that my dad really wanted to blow a fuse at times but because he was in others' company, he would hold back. Then, afterwards, when it was just him and us, he would explode. At one time, we wondered if it was our faces because it seemed like every time he would see our faces, we would get it full guns blazing. Of course in hindsight I realise he was putting on an act in front of everyone and did not want them to see the real him. But today, once again, I innocently walked in and received all of his venom.

40 minutes later….

As soon as the carer left, I got blasted by a rocket launcher in the form of a human male.

And breathe.

I have not felt the full force of all his vitriol and hatred for a long time and right now, it has turned me into a crumpled mess. All the inner tears that were never shed are falling now. I can hardly write, I am in such distress.

Breathe.

I realise there seems to be a theme of weaponry in this post. I hate guns. I hate the decimation and destruction that weaponry causes in our world. It always causes overwhelming sadness in me. Exactly how I feel at this moment in time.

Once I had seen the carer out of the front door, my dad turned to me with that twisted mouth and those hardened lazer eyes and spat out with such disgust that I talk too much to the carers. He ranted on for the next ten minutes about me and how stupid I am to do so blah blah blah. I had got the gist of his words but my main objective was to evade the vision of the face that still terrifies me to this day.

I tried to explain that I have just been told off this morning by the carer as I had not told their office that he could now shower. (He had to wait until his wounds were okay.) The carer told me I have to communicate anything and everything with their office. No-one has previously told me this so I had had no idea that I had to do so.

And now here he was telling me to shut up and not talk so much.

Now, there is a lot to untangle here. But let me try...

He hates getting old and losing his independence.

He hates strange people coming in to care for him.

He has to behave himself when they are around.

He does not like anyone touching him.

He hates being told what to do by anyone but especially women. (There are only 2 male carers on the monthly rota, so it is predominantly women who come to see him.)

He feels that I am belittling him by telling the carers about his bout of diarrhoea or that he fell out of the bed, etc.

He has always hated my Mum and I getting any attention when he is around. (Even if he was not present but heard about it later.) He should be the one to get all of the attention at all times.

He feels that the carers look to me for guidance and assistance. They do. That is another hate of his.

He reads their notes and apparently my name gets mentioned a lot because they write that I have told them about this or that.

Firstly, he hates the fact that they keep notes on him.

Secondly, as far as he is concerned, he feels that if they have to write notes about him, his should be the only name mentioned.

We have different ideas about carers.

He sees them as servants who come in to do a job and then leave.

I see them as wonderful, amazing people, each with their own story, who have kindly come to help him.

I try and remember their names so when they arrive they receive a warm welcome.

I ask how they are when they arrive and hope their day goes well when they leave. At times I hear him say thank you as they leave.

I am willing to help the carers but I do not want to do their job and help him. He cannot understand why that is the case. I cared for my Mum for ten years so why can I also not care for him. I wonder why.

We both respect the carers but treat them very differently.

If they are late, he moans that they are not there for him. I on the other hand realise, and have often tried explaining to him that he is not their first person of the day. They have seen one or two people before him who could be extremely poorly. I heard one carer on the phone being told that their person had passed away just after they had left the house. That wonderful carer put his phone away and carried on dealing with my dad. He just held it together and did his job. I sincerely hope they have someone they can talk to as caring is a really difficult job.

In summation, he feels that I am enjoying his misery and thriving on the telling of his downfall.

He may be like that but I am not like that. I am genuinely concerned for his wellbeing as I would be for anyone else's. As I have previously mentioned, I try to offer him the dignity and respect he never gave me and as I am his main carer for 23.5hrs of each day, I have a duty of care to uphold. I will do that to the best of my ability whatever torrent of abuse flattens me.

Thank goodness for this blog where I can let loose and set free his maliciousness.

I am now calm and can go about my day caring for the ungrateful male who is sitting in the lounge. Joys.