Sunday, November 16, 2008
I finally chatted with my mother, when she was sober, about my father’s cancer. She was completely logical & calm, saying that she did not need me to visit, until she knew for sure something was wrong. This is the woman who raised me, not the inebriated one I spoke to the day before. I could tell she was in her no nonsense “nurse” mode. I will go ahead & listen to her advice & sit tight, until she has further news.
I have learned that I do not like being around sick people. They make me feel helpless, because I cannot help them. In my father’s case, I would not stay away, simply for that reason. He is the exception.
I realize that such a notion is a failing in my personality, which is a bit odd, considering I was raised by a nurse. I have an old boyfriend who was chronically sick, with epilepsy, sleep apnea, & other assorted ailments. He was the first sick boy I ever dated. He will also be the last.
When I was with him, I was always concerned something was going to happen, such as a seizure. I also got am icky feeling in my tummy, when I saw his army of medication of the counter of my bathroom, when he visited overnight.