Ok babies…

NEW URL:  http://vixensview.com/blog.  NEW home for Vixen’s View!  C’mon over and see the place!  I think you’ll like it!

July 14, 2006 at 8:30 pm 2 comments

Well, kids, I’m doing it again…

…I’ve purchased my own domain with Bluehost, and will be moving the blog to it!  I’ve already got the archives moved over and all the posts set up.  I’m just waiting on the designer I purchased a template from to contact me and get the template set up. 🙂

I promise, this will be the last move.  I’m going to try and set up a redirect here on this blog, so that y’all will be directed to the new one, and you can change your links then.  Just not yet.  I want it all puuuurrrrdeee first.

July 14, 2006 at 2:49 pm Leave a comment

Fire in the sky…

Wow…it’s really smokey here from the fire in San Bernardino.  You know how the sun glows orange when there’s a fire?  We’ve got that, and it’s casting a lovely shade over the valley.  Problem is, it’s also very smokey, burns the eyes and throat, and doesn’t smell that great!  Add in 100 degrees, and you have the makings for a truly rockin’ day!  Hell yeah! *sarcasm*

Other than that, not a whole lot going on here.  Dad’s still being dumb, I’m still banging my head against that old proverbial brick wall, and there’s a new post up on A Matter of Opinion.

Oh, and I go back to my dentist tomorrow morning at 9, to start all the impressions for my lower denture.  Oh it’s going to be so much fun!  All that hot, burning black tar they put in the mouth!  Yes, *sarcasm* again.

*sigh*

July 12, 2006 at 5:51 pm 6 comments

Wanna know?

Ya know what pisses me off? I mean, truly, fully, red face, thumping in my head, heart racing, hot ears pisses me off?

People who delete comments because they disagree with their post. Not because they are flaming, not because they are vulgar. Because they intelligently disagree in a calm manner, which completely refutes the naive message the post author is trying to convey.

God forbid if someone comes along, with proof that they are wrong, and very calmly posts a comment, using calm words, no cussing, no name calling, just an intelligent comment stating the facts that are quite well known.

But the author of the post deletes the comment because it proves them wrong. Yes, it’s their right. It’s their blog. But when they don’t also delete their own comments, it’s censorship and THAT PISSES ME OFF!

Thank you. I feel better now. 🙂

July 9, 2006 at 2:50 pm 14 comments

Me? A saint?

Thank you everyone, for your kind comments in regards to my taking care of dad, but trust me, I am no saint, nor am I doing this out of the goodness of my heart.

I need to back up the story here. When my mom had her strokes in January of 1996, I did quit my job to take care of her. That was out of kindness and love. I adored my mom, and there was no way a stranger was going to lay a hand on her. Also at that time, most of the news magazine shows (Dateline NBC, 20/20, etc) were running pieces about abuse of the elderly by the convalescent hospital industry, and home health care workers. I was not going to take the chance that someone would come into the home and abuse her or steal from her. So, I moved in and took that on full time, and did that until she passed away in May of 1998. Again, let me reiterate: I did this voluntarily.

At the time of her death, dad was still able to get around using a walker, but in his mind, he felt that since I had taken care of mom, I would take care of him. I told him that no, that wasn’t going to happen because I’ve already given up 2.5 years of my life and I wanted it back. The look on his face, when we had that conversation, is etched in my mind and keeps jumping to the front part of my brain whenever I think or look at him. He was angry. Very angry. Indignant even. But there was no way I was going to let him take my life away from me.

So, I went back to school, and in a years time had my certification for massage therapy. I went through all the FBI background checks required to obtain a business license, as I had planned on opening my own therapy office. I received my license in January of 2000, and started building up a promising business. I was doing employee massages at all the branches of one of the local credit unions, plus a few other business. It was starting to really take off.

Dad didn’t like this. At all. One day in 2000, he decided that he wasn’t going to walk anymore, and that he couldn’t do anything without full time help. Seriously. Even his doctor has said that there is no medical reason for him to be the shape he is in, other than him wanting it this way. He is perfectly content to sit on his ass all day, and have everything on this earth that he could ever possibly need done for him, brought to him, cooked for him, washed for him, etc. He truly feels that it is my duty to take care of him, and that he has no need to thank me, or appreciate it. He doesn’t care that I have to put anything that I want to do on hold indefinitely, so that he is taken care of first. First, second, third and always. He is treating me the same way he treated mom: woman is here to serve man.

Now, this brings us to why I’m doing this: fear and guilt.

Fear of what would happen to him if he was placed in a home. Not because I love him, though it pains me to admit that somewhere, deep, deep inside I do, but out of respect for another human being. Something he has never given anyone. I am the extreme opposite of what my father is for a reason. I never liked the person he was when I was growing up. He’s a narrow minded bigot, and I vowed to never be like him, and thankfully, I am not.

Guilt, because it would haunt me to my dieing day if I placed him in a home, and he was abused, neglected, etc. He doesn’t have that many days left on this earth, and I do not want any type of repercussions to hit me when he is gone. I want that time of my life to be free. Care free, worry free, guilt free. This is why I insisted we sell the house and buy this condo outright. I’ve not worked for 10 years now, and the thought that I’d be able to afford a $1,000 + mortgage is ludicrous. At least this way, I will have a roof over my head that is completely paid for. I also feel he owes it to me. Yes, owes it to me. Right or wrong, that man owes his good life to me. He’s an extremely lucky 82 year old man, who doesn’t have to worry about money, and can sit on his ass in the comfort of his own home and not have to worry about a damn thing. So yes, he owes me.

As does my sister. She has not had to lift one fucking finger to help me these past 10 years. Oh sure, she’d come up a couple of times a year, like 3, for a weekend, and “help” with mom so that I could “get away”. It never worked that way. She had no clue as to how to do anything for her, which surprised me, because she’s a mother. She had two kids, and took damn good care of them. This was no different. Except mom was a little bit heavier than a baby would be, but not by much. So, when she’d come up, I’d have to go over everything she’d have to do, then would only be able to be away for, at the most, 3 hours, which was no different from a normal day for me. So, my sister, good person that she is, is just as selfish as dad. And that is something that completely surprised me, considering on how she feels just as bitter towards him as I do. But she is her father’s daughter. She is just as narrow minded and bigoted as he is. This is a woman that has 4 tattoos on her body, but thinks that other people who have them where they show are disgusting. Yeah, piece of work that one, huh?

Extremely long story even longer, I am no saint. The hateful thoughts I have about my dad, on a daily basis, is staggering. Yet I also remind myself how damn lucky I am. Yes, damn lucky. I don’t have to work outside the home. Granted, this also means I have no medical benefits, but I also don’t have to work. Anything I need I can get. Notice I said need, not want. I have to pay full price for any medical/dental needs, but I can do that. Not very many people can say the same thing. I also don’t have to worry, too much at least, about paying bills and buying groceries. Not very many people can do that either. So yes, I know how damn lucky I am.

Would I trade all of that luck to be able to work full-time, go out and have fun with friends, actually make some friends, and date? Yes. In a heart beat. I would rather worry about making ends meet than to be stuck here, sitting on my ass, just waiting for that old man to yell for me. Every day. Every fucking day.

Saint? No. Stuck? Yes. Pissed off? Oh yeah, big time, but mostly at myself for allowing this to happen. For allowing that old Irish Catholic upbringing to rear it’s ugly head and tell me, every time I seriously think about placing dad in a home, that the guilt will eat at me for the rest of my life and ruin any chance I might have at having a somewhat happy future. Whenever that starts.

[Edit] Please, none of you, take this as a criticism of your kind comments. It’s not. You will never know how much it means to me, to find people that try to understand this, and even though I truly do not believe I am that strong, or that good of a person, I greatly, greatly, appreciate each and every word that I read in the comments from the last post. I just needed to vent some of this, and to show you why I am doing what I am doing, and why I am putting up with that asshat of an old man. I’m just keeping my head down, plugging through each day, and thinking of that freedom I long for.

However that freedom comes.

July 7, 2006 at 9:55 am 3 comments

I shouldn’t be surprised…

My dad is recklessly stubborn. Very recklessly. He’s endangering his health, and there isn’t one damn thing I can do about it.

How is he doing this? Well, I’ll tell ya…

He uses a urine bottle when he needs to pee. During the day, it’s not a problem, as I can always here him snap it shut, so that I know it’s time to empty it. Overnight is where the problem arises. I always put both of his urine bottles on his bed railings, so that when he needs to pee more than once, he can open an empty bottle, versus one that is already used. With the sores he has on his butt, he doesn’t need to be laying in pee.

Does he use that 2nd bottle? No. He refuses to. He insists that the wet stain that is on the sheet, after I get him up in the morning, is the medicine I put on his butt every night. It isn’t. It reeks of urine. Very. Strong. Smell. I keep telling him that with the open sores on his butt, he doesn’t need to be laying in that pee as the bacteria is going to end up entering his body through those open sores, and it will make him very very ill, if not kill him. I’ve even asked him if that’s what he wants, to die. He says no. But I’m thinking he does, as his actions are speaking louder.

So, when I change his sheets later today, I am going to take that bottom sheet, and force him to smell it, so that he sees that it’s his pee. I just hope it knocks a little bit of sense into him and gets him to use that 2nd bottle.

Then again, this is dad I’m talking about, and the odds of him actually doing what he’s supposed to do are extremely low. He’s not followed a single order from his doctor, which is why he’s in worse shape now than a year ago. Stupid, stupid, man. Yes, he’s stupid. Being stubborn is one thing, but he’s taken it beyond that. He actually thinks he knows better than everyone else on this earth. This is something that the entire family has battled all of our lives, and now, well, it’s killing him. No amount of my talking, crying, and yelling is doing any good, but I won’t give up. I refuse to give up.

That stubbornness runs deep in the family. Yea for being Irish.

psst: There’s a new post up at A Matter of Opinion. Just in case you’re interested! 🙂

July 5, 2006 at 10:41 am 10 comments

Proud…*

And I’m proud to be an American
Where at least I know I’m free
And I won’t forget the men who died
Who gave that right to me

And I gladly stand up next to you
And defend her still today
‘Cause there ain’t no doubt I love this land
God Bless the USA

 

*psst: this is post #147. When in the heck did I reach #100?? And my links are on their own page now. 🙂

psst #2:  I just subscribed to Bloglines, and I’d like to know why in the hell it took me so damn long to do this?  This is a much easier way to find out if someone has posted something new or not.

July 3, 2006 at 7:04 pm 5 comments

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