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The first thing that came into my mind as the highlight of 2007 was the arrival of my feline housemates, who I adopted at the beginning of this year (there are plenty of pictures of them in the cat thread) but then I read Seth’s post and thought Duh. How could I forget?? I’ve got a “dad story”, too:
My father stopped drinking in February. After 40 years. This time last year we didn’t think he had much longer to live; he was very seriously ill. He wasn’t even able to leave the house anymore and was so miserable and depressed, there was nothing you could say to make him feel better. I managed to drag him out of the house when I visited my parents in May ’06. We had to turn around again after just a few minutes but he enjoyed the short walk. He cried later that afternoon, as I was leaving for the airport. I had never seen him cry before and it broke my heart. I visited again in October. (I usually only go home twice a year including Christmas but this time I didn’t want to wait until December.) My father was in a terrible state. He showed me a note he had written to me. It said that he would never be able to go for a walk with me again and that if I needed anything, I should tell him. I just sort of scoffed at it; I didn’t know what to say.
He had an operation in November. My mum later told me that he had been absolutely terrified. If she hadn’t dragged him to the hospital he would have just stayed at home. I remember thinking how strange it seemed that someone who had been depressed for years (if not decades) and who got so little enjoyment out of life should be so scared of dying. I was hoping that before he passed away he would experience at least a little bit of happiness, maybe even just one brief moment of joy, something that would make the last few years of misery and suffering seem a little less bleak. That was all I was hoping for. His death seemed imminent.
He had another operation in January of this year, but still his condition deteriorated. I had just bought a house and he was so proud of me; he was absolutely devastated that he wasn’t able to see it. My mum came over in February, but only for a few days – from Friday morning to Monday evening. She didn’t want to leave my father on his own for too long. She was now just as housebound as he was. He just spent the entire time in bed and had to go to hospital again the following week. Which is when he stopped drinking. He simply didn’t have a choice I guess. He didn’t want to die.
It’s almost scary how quickly he got better. Only a month later, on their 30th wedding anniversary, I spoke to my mum on the phone. “We’ve been to a furniture store, looking for a new table,” she told me, “then we had lunch at a nice restaurant overlooking a lake and afterwards went for a walk.” I thought who is she talking about? I asked her if she had spent the day with her friends. “Oh no, just your father and me.”
It took me a long time to get used to my mum saying “we”. In fact, it still sounds strange. She used to do everything on her own, now my father even goes shopping with her. He used to complain about her seeing her mum every single week; he didn’t like being left alone even for just one afternoon. Now he happily tags along. I spoke to my gran recently and she’s also completely amazed at how much he’s changed. “You can have a proper conversation with him now!” she remarked. I remembered how much I had looked up to him when I was little because he was so wonderfully articulate. I used to listen to him debating politics and economics with my older brother, thinking he was the most intelligent person in the world. And my mum once told me that she fell in love with him while they were talking on the phone, because he had such a beautiful voice. But over the last few years he had become a mumbling mess, not making any sense and constantly repeating himself.
But now he is his old self again. He is also so much more positive. Shortly after he had stopped drinking I asked him if he was now sleeping better (he used to moan a lot about his insomnia). He replied that he still woke up very early. But instead of banging on about it and whinging and moaning, he told me that he was no longer taking sleeping pills and that my mother always got up very early as well and that at his age, he didn’t really need that much sleep anyway. He is so much more upbeat now. His entire outlook has changed.
He is also able to drive again and is no longer so dependent on my mum. She went on a 10-day cycling trip in September, which would have been unthinkable at the beginning of the year. My father was perfectly fine on his own and because he had the car, he was able to visit friends, my sister and my brother. And then, in October, my parents went to Majorca together.
I have suggested to my mum that now that my father is so much better and able to travel again, they can finally come and visit me and stay at my house. Her reply: “Nah, I know what it looks like now.” Cheers, mum, never mind that I’ve been flying home twice a year for the past ten years!
But I’m looking forward to going home next week and seeing my dad again. And the three of us are already planning to meet up in Scotland next summer. And we will go on plenty of walks…
Erm, Merry Christmas everyone! |
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