Dear diary,

My mom texted me today.  She said that, my dad says, he’s feeling better.  The nurse however told her that he is very weak.  Well that’s just great.  He hasn’t been allowed to eat anything since he was admitted on Friday.  When he came in on Friday they said he looked very pale and possibly septic.  His blood pressure was very low.  I told my mom it’s like a big catch 22.  They told her he can’t have anything to eat (besides IV fluids) until they can tell his bowel is working.  But he can’t get stronger if he can’t eat.  I just don’t understand.  I don’t understand how seemingly starving someone is going to help them get stronger, get better?

I’ve had so many feelings I have been working through in these last couple days.  Sometimes I don’t feel anything at all; like it’s not happening.

Sometimes I get so angry.  I want to just be mad at everything.  I want to yell at everyone around me that continues to eat animal products.  I want to ask them if they really want to wind up like my dad?  Sick and dying so that they can enjoy the cheese that they “just can’t imagine giving up”.  I want to yell at the doctors for not doing more.  I just want to scream as loud as I can.

Other times I feel so sad.  I was out on my balcony this afternoon and looking up at the passing clouds and birds.  I was wondering if heaven really exists?  If my grandparents were really up there so that my dad wouldn’t be alone if he died.

Then I thought about dying.  Is it scary to know you couldn’t be dying?  Does my dad say he feels better because he really doesn’t feel anything at all?  Is he maybe ready to go?  Is he scared?  Does he feel alone even though my mom is there?  Does he really even know what is going on?  My mom said despite everything that his mind is still sharp.  He is having a hard time talking because his mouth and throat are so dried out.  Is he lost in is his own mind?  Kind of like when a someone is paralyzed and can hear everything around them but can’t respond?  I wish I could know.

I will admit, dying scares me.  Not the act of it, but maybe more so the act of living.  Is this all I’m really here for?  To live and watch others around me die?  To experience pain.  I mean, I have experienced many happy times as well but when the hard times are happening is when I tend to think about whether it is all really worth it or not.  My cat, Raspberry, whom I had for 13 years had to be put down in April of this year.  It was so painful.  It hurt so bad to have to say goodbye to her.  I have actually been wondering if the “higher power” took her from me just to prep me for what could be ahead?  I still miss her.  I can’t even begin to imagine what it will be like to miss a parent.

We don’t have any children.  We also don’t want any children.  I have never really wanted any my whole life.  In away I’m glad that I won’t have to cause someone else this much sadness when it is my time to go.  I mean I hope someone will miss me.  But I am glad that no one will miss me as much as a child will miss a parent.

~a MAD, american, Vegan


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