"Pop's Outta Trol"

After dinner I had cleaned the kitchen and was sitting at my computer while the kids played in their playhouse. Dad was watching TV in the living room. I suddenly remembered I had promised Mama I would call her after dinner. I got her on the phone and our conversation got a little animated. (That part of the story is too long to write but I would love to share it some time as it is QUITE exciting!) Anyway, Dad was getting restless and kind of squirming in his chair. Even though they weren't loud, I cautioned the kids to keep it down. He continued his agitation and began making noises like banging his glass down on the table and sucking air through his teeth. I cut the conversation short and got off the phone.

I told the kids to pick up their stuff because it was almost time to go downstairs. Dad struggled to rise from his chair and turned to face the kids. He was shaky as he grabbed the back of his chair and said, "You kids get your sh*t out of here and go home. Don't you have parents somewhere?" Then he turned to me and said, "You, too. This is my Go#d*mn house and if you think I'm going to turn it over to you so you can run a nursery school, you're out of you f$*king mind! You better find another job because I don't want the likes of you here in MY house."

I bent down to the kids (they edged toward me quickly when he started his tirade). I hugged them close and told them to go downstairs to the spare room and watch TV til I got there. I looked Ayla straight in the eyes and made her promise to stay there and keep TyTy there until I got downstairs. She nodded her head and whispered seriously, "I know, Nonni. Pop's outta trol." She took TyTy by the hand and led him to the stairs.

I turned to the bar and began gathering my things (computer, charger, phone, paperwork, etc.). Dad tottered toward me. "Don't forget your walker, Dad," I reminded with my back to him. Suddenly, he grabbed my arm with more strength than I would have credited him for having and swung me around to face him. Less than a couple inches from my nose, he began yelling, "DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO! THIS IS MY GO#D*MN HOUSE! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE AND DON'T COME BACK. I DON'T WANT YOU HERE."

I was pinned between him and the bar with a bar stool on either side of me so couldn't easily move. My only way out was to bump a stool out of the way with my hip. I turned to do just that and Dad suddenly swung out with his right hand and smacked me across the face. My first thought was, "Wow, he has big hands!". He managed to catch me from my ear to my chin. Ear ringing and cheek stinging, I blinked back the tears that threatened.

With no hesitation, I reached out and grabbed him by the pockets on his shirt, using the fabric to give me something to keep him from falling, as I pushed him away from me. Snatching my stuff up, I made it halfway across the room before he shouted at me, "I'm going to call the police and have you thrown out of my house! I don't want you here and I'm not giving you another penny. I don't know who hired you and I don't care. I just want you out of here. GET OUT! GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE!!!"

Right this minute I wish I could. My cheek is a tiny bit sore still and my heart hurts. Life is getting harder with Dad. I sure wish there was somebody who could take care of him for a week and give me a break away. I feel like his disease is sucking the life right out of me. I deal with it day in and day out. Some days it's difficult to even go to the bathroom without causing him alarm. He hates me to be out of sight. The good times are the memories I will keep if I can keep the bad memories from dragging me under.

Lord, give me strength, wisdom and courage...