Old

My Grandfather was born in New Brunswick Canada in 1924 of Irish/Scottish/English heritage. He will turn 100 years old in November.
My Grandfather is the sweetest man I have ever known. Selfless, giving, caring of others…a gentle and quiet spirit.
I saw him yesterday at his retirement home. He lived with us until the age of 97 and was in decent health…although he has had basal cell carcinoma on his head and nose from the year I was born (for 35 years.)
A bout of pancreatitis sent him to the hospital and his health (and mind) rapidly declined in 2022.
Now, he is bedridden and almost deaf…his skin cancer has become severe and he seems to have dementia although he has not been diagnosed.
I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy, being 100 is not the pretty picture you see in the news. It’s ugly and sad…and if I think too long on it I get depressed because this fate has come to the most honourable of men. My Papa did not deserve this.

Let me tell you who he used to be:
A young man married with 2 children. The eldest a boy and a girl (who is my Mom.) He worked as a repairman at GM and stayed there 30 odd years retiring early due to his wife’s health. My Nana had Addison’s disease since her 30’s.
During all of this he diligently served his local Adventist Church as head elder for many years.
His hobbies included leather work/stained glass and gardening. Despite the fact that he suffered from digital tremor for much of his senior life.
He was the male influence in my life as my own father was largely absent. Even to this day in his confused state he tells my Mom that his “daughter” came to visit…while asking me who my Mom is. He has never once seen my face and not known me…

I love my Papa! If sanctification can be seen completed in the character of a human being it would be seen in him. The lovely character of Christ still shines even through all of his pain and all the deaths of loved ones including his own son…in his confusion he is as sweet and as polite as he’s always been. Never a vulgar or harsh word spoken.
He was and is my inspiration to continue in the faith…no we are never perfect in this life but we can try our hardest to live a good Christian one.

I wrote this because I don’t want the world to forget my Papa. Yes, he was/is your ordinary hard working man…but he was/is extraordinary to me.

I travelled 18 hours back and forth. With holdall bags larger than me on overflowing trains, sleeping and awaking from startling nightmares whilst aboard. I travelled a lot whilst in Wales. Yet none of it was beneficial.

Picture it. I was 18, confused, trying my best, doing what I was supposed to do.

This was the second coming of my internal struggles.

I have a vivid memory of when I was 11 years old, making myself sick after eating. Staying up after midnight and watching shows like The Villa?! I watched these young, clueless attractive people live out misogynistic nonsense and instead of questioning it I did 200 sit ups wishing I was attractive.

I remember my neighbour who was a few years younger commenting that my body looked weird because I had lumps on my nipples as my breasts were forming and that I stood oddly like my hips were too far forward.

I can remember a family friend making a comment along the lines of, ‘she’s grown into her looks’ when I was 15 years old. I have always had an intrinsic need to be liked and desired as I was under the impression that was my worth.

It wasn’t until I was almost 19 when I had my first near death crisis.

I can vaguely remember friends in my student halls of residence, using pint glasses to put my black vomit from the tiny sink in my room to the shared toilet. There were also a lot of things and actions I don't remember but my flatmates thought it was funny to spell out something along the lines of “Linny and x are lesbains, humping on the kitchen floor.”

I remember being told no one wanted to socialise with me and x cause we always fought (like a married couple).

It could be argued I wasn’t ready to be away from home but it could also be argued that it is what started the slow and painful process to where I am now.

I know what you’re thinking. Where were your parents? They were being spectacular. Working for the then semi functional NHS, saving lives, making a difference whilst also raising three girls. I could make assumptions about them, I could chastise them for decisions but I won’t because I know in my soul they did their best and luckily they’re still around and continue to support me albeit at an arm's length.

I would talk about my sisters more but I feel I have already burdened them with so much. They didn't’ ask to have a Bi-Polar, Borderline Personality Disorder, queer mess as a sister. What I will say however, is I truly regret the trauma I have probably caused them.

I did therapy. I continue to take medication. I am what is considered “stable”.

The fear though.

It never leaves. It is always there. The only time I’m not aware of it is when I am manic and being vivacious and what some consider ‘silly’.

#Bipolar #BPD #Depression #Anxiety #BorderlinePersonalityDisorder #Old #help #Broken #Recovery #Masking #Relateable

#Relationships #Friends #Old age
Today is my dad’s birthday. He has been gone for over 42 years. I still think of him w admiration and pride. He was a good dad.

But, my dad’s birthday has gotten me to think of my dad and the fact he had 6 kids. We were there for him. We were young, but did the best we could to visit him when he was sick. We were all very concerned about him every step of the way.

This brings me to think about me and my husband. We have no children. We have no one to be here for us if we get sick and no one to visit us in a hospital or other type institution. Who would get our groceries? Other needs? What about any problems where we live? Who would handle? We continue to work to pay for health care to help us as we age. But, when is enough work enough.

We would have to have someone manage the health care aides, pay them ( w our resources) and who would visit us? This is a luxury we just don’t have. Who could we get to manage this personnel.? Home healthcare aides have to be managed & paid. Who could we trust to handle this?

When you don’t have children, you are stuck. I don’t know any other way around this. Will we have enough to support this kind of care? If so, who can we get to manage them? These are all questions swimming around inside my head. These are the questions I have no answers for.