Saturday, June 25, 2005
I'm not sure if I have made this clear. I watched a few years ago when my father's kidneys quit working. He was told by the doctors that he had food poisoning. But it was pretty bad before he actually went to a doctor. He had quit urinating for a few days. He was turning yellow and sweating piss. Well, we don't know what it was, but it sure smelled like it. The doctors told him that his organs were going to start shutting down one by one if he did nothing. Or something would rupture from retaining too much fluids. So he took the steroids. The steroids hurt his vision. Something to do with a cataract or something. He always said it couldn't be helped, but I don't know if that's fact or what he told me. He also had to go on dialysis before his kidneys actually did kick in. It was hard to look at those tubes coming out of his chest. He quit drinking right before he died. The problem is that quitting drinking wasn't enough. He would then drink Dr. Peppers until he got sick. I guess water is for the fishes.
He smoked most of my life. Until he couldn't breath anymore. He eventually got pneumonia. It was so bad that it pretty much came down to a life or death situation. They held him in the hospital for several days. That's when they found the cancer in his colon. He only quit smoking when he couldn't handle it anymore. Even going to the bar made him throw up. He would cough so hard it was amazing that he never got a hernia.
He was practically deaf. Hanging out in loud places like bars or something did that to him. You would have to shout for him to hear you sometimes. Of course, when it was first suggested that he get a hearing aid, he wouldn't. His hearing only got worse.
There were a lot of days when he would do nothing. He just laid around. He would go three or four days without eating. Then wouldn't understand why he was so "sick." His stomach seemed to reject everything he ate. Probably because it had gotten so weak. It was like this right before he went into the hospital the last time. Except the very day before. He ate like a pig. More than I can eat and I am a pretty big boy. Then he started vomiting. His stomach was hurting. He was swollen like a watermelon. It turns out he was full. The food was leaving the only way it could. The way it came in.
I can still remember the summer that I worked at the bar. It was while he was on dialysis. The doctor said that it was "food poisoning." Everyone else knew it was drinking. Drinking is a type of food poisoning. It's the toxins that actually make you drunk. Of course, you couldn't tell him that. When the doctor let him drink again, he did. I was there when he did. I remember I gave him a long look as I opened the beer. His best friend even commented on my look. Of course, another one of his friend set it straight to me. "The beer almost killed him once and he picked it right back up. I guess it'll kill him eventually," he said. I quit the bar a short time later.
A couple of years ago my Granny Gina, his mother, was diagnosed with cancer. Of course, we didn't find out straight away.
My brother was getting married in Hawaii. My parents offered to pay for GG's ticket, but she refused to attend the wedding. We found out later that she was injured from a car wreck and that she didn't want anyone to know. Granny Gina was too blind to be driving. Of course, a few months later they found her cancer. My mother told me about it straight away. Then my parents told me that they were trying to get her to move to Tennessee. I told my mother that she wouldn't. If she was well enough to come here, then she was well enough to stay in Texas on her own. If she wasn't well enough, well, I didn't mention that option.
After about six months of my father constantly traveling back and forth to Waco, Granny Gina passed away. She had originally turned down chemo and when she did ask for it, it was too late. I suspected that would happen after her ex-husband.
Grandpa Lewis got cancer when I was in high school. He said that if radiation could kill that many in WWII, it couldn't be good for him. That's why he turned down chemo. He died shortly thereafter. I don't remember much about it. It's been quite some time ago.
My father's sister died before I was born. She had diabetes. She had leukemia. I think. All this stuff comes second hand. She never took care of herself. The grave diggers made up a third of her memorial service.
Diane's daughter? Tammy is dead. I don't know what. No one bothered telling my dad until the day of the funeral. Or they didn't think about telling him. Does it matter. Before she died, Tammy was on welfare. She had one son by a guy who isn't ever around anymore. She had a daughter by a Mexican who was deported before Maria was even born. He went back to his wife and kids.
Diane's son is working for a carnival. The only time that anyone hears from him is when he is needing money or is in jail. He was stranded by the carnival in Idaho after GG's death. He was back working with them when my father died. He called him the night of the funeral. My mother told him that the man that he had grown up with as a brother had died. He then said that he was sorry to hear it. He was saving up money to go see his sister. Mom then told him that she had died last year. He asked about his nephew. He volunteered to go to a boys home while his mother was still alive. He wanted to get out of the projects. Maria is with her aunt. Who knows what kind of life she is living.
I've got a lot of family that rolled over and quit. I quit Wal-mart over seven months ago. What has it added up to? Three jobs and quite a bit of my savings dwindled. The last job was some crappy job for less than 2/3 of what I made at Wal-Mart. A failed purchase of a house. What's the point here? It's time to get my ass in gear. There are too many Walkers who have rolled over and died. I will not be one of them.
My life has been pretty pathetic for the past seven months. I haven't done anything significant. It's time for some shit to change. (I just hope I am not being bi-polar like Uncle Wesley. That's Mom's side of the family. If I get terrible from there, I haven't got a chance.)
He smoked most of my life. Until he couldn't breath anymore. He eventually got pneumonia. It was so bad that it pretty much came down to a life or death situation. They held him in the hospital for several days. That's when they found the cancer in his colon. He only quit smoking when he couldn't handle it anymore. Even going to the bar made him throw up. He would cough so hard it was amazing that he never got a hernia.
He was practically deaf. Hanging out in loud places like bars or something did that to him. You would have to shout for him to hear you sometimes. Of course, when it was first suggested that he get a hearing aid, he wouldn't. His hearing only got worse.
There were a lot of days when he would do nothing. He just laid around. He would go three or four days without eating. Then wouldn't understand why he was so "sick." His stomach seemed to reject everything he ate. Probably because it had gotten so weak. It was like this right before he went into the hospital the last time. Except the very day before. He ate like a pig. More than I can eat and I am a pretty big boy. Then he started vomiting. His stomach was hurting. He was swollen like a watermelon. It turns out he was full. The food was leaving the only way it could. The way it came in.
I can still remember the summer that I worked at the bar. It was while he was on dialysis. The doctor said that it was "food poisoning." Everyone else knew it was drinking. Drinking is a type of food poisoning. It's the toxins that actually make you drunk. Of course, you couldn't tell him that. When the doctor let him drink again, he did. I was there when he did. I remember I gave him a long look as I opened the beer. His best friend even commented on my look. Of course, another one of his friend set it straight to me. "The beer almost killed him once and he picked it right back up. I guess it'll kill him eventually," he said. I quit the bar a short time later.
A couple of years ago my Granny Gina, his mother, was diagnosed with cancer. Of course, we didn't find out straight away.
My brother was getting married in Hawaii. My parents offered to pay for GG's ticket, but she refused to attend the wedding. We found out later that she was injured from a car wreck and that she didn't want anyone to know. Granny Gina was too blind to be driving. Of course, a few months later they found her cancer. My mother told me about it straight away. Then my parents told me that they were trying to get her to move to Tennessee. I told my mother that she wouldn't. If she was well enough to come here, then she was well enough to stay in Texas on her own. If she wasn't well enough, well, I didn't mention that option.
After about six months of my father constantly traveling back and forth to Waco, Granny Gina passed away. She had originally turned down chemo and when she did ask for it, it was too late. I suspected that would happen after her ex-husband.
Grandpa Lewis got cancer when I was in high school. He said that if radiation could kill that many in WWII, it couldn't be good for him. That's why he turned down chemo. He died shortly thereafter. I don't remember much about it. It's been quite some time ago.
My father's sister died before I was born. She had diabetes. She had leukemia. I think. All this stuff comes second hand. She never took care of herself. The grave diggers made up a third of her memorial service.
Diane's daughter? Tammy is dead. I don't know what. No one bothered telling my dad until the day of the funeral. Or they didn't think about telling him. Does it matter. Before she died, Tammy was on welfare. She had one son by a guy who isn't ever around anymore. She had a daughter by a Mexican who was deported before Maria was even born. He went back to his wife and kids.
Diane's son is working for a carnival. The only time that anyone hears from him is when he is needing money or is in jail. He was stranded by the carnival in Idaho after GG's death. He was back working with them when my father died. He called him the night of the funeral. My mother told him that the man that he had grown up with as a brother had died. He then said that he was sorry to hear it. He was saving up money to go see his sister. Mom then told him that she had died last year. He asked about his nephew. He volunteered to go to a boys home while his mother was still alive. He wanted to get out of the projects. Maria is with her aunt. Who knows what kind of life she is living.
I've got a lot of family that rolled over and quit. I quit Wal-mart over seven months ago. What has it added up to? Three jobs and quite a bit of my savings dwindled. The last job was some crappy job for less than 2/3 of what I made at Wal-Mart. A failed purchase of a house. What's the point here? It's time to get my ass in gear. There are too many Walkers who have rolled over and died. I will not be one of them.
My life has been pretty pathetic for the past seven months. I haven't done anything significant. It's time for some shit to change. (I just hope I am not being bi-polar like Uncle Wesley. That's Mom's side of the family. If I get terrible from there, I haven't got a chance.)
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