Coconut

Still dealing with stuff, although I am in a lull. I’m sure things are going to get rougher, with being a tenant.

I’m pretty much at the end of my acceptance of home help not speaking English. There’s a note that says if you need a specific language, to just tell them. It seems that means any language other than English. I ask for english speakers and don’t get them. Bengali, Punjab, Urdu, you bet cha. I don’t speak any of those languages and it’s very frustrating.

I have agraphobia. Yet a couple of weeks ago, I went out twice. Once to go to an ATM and once to pick up a kitten. This kitten is adorable, except when he’s awake, then he is a demon disguised as a chocolate point siamese. His name is Coconut.

Two sides to a coin

So a person from my husband’s family took exception to me saying she was ghosting me when she didn’t respond to my inquiries. I was supposed to understand by her not replying, was just her saying, er, nothing? That she meant she didn’t know if she could help. but she didn’t say that, she just didn’t respond at all. She took great exception to being told she was ghosting me.

She huff and puffed, told me off, and blocked me. How dare I ‘faux educated’ her on ghosting, because absolutely, I knew she knew all about that.

Now, she was the only person who offered to help, so there is that loss.

She accused me of being – secretive? – not communicating with husband’s family. Which isn’t true. I tried connecting with a lot of them. Some just didn’t want to talk to me, some didn’t have time to talk with me (or meet up for coffee or tea), and after getting rebuffed so many times, I stopped trying. And I think my husband would tell them stuff (if they did call) that was asleep, or sick, or busy, or whatever to block them from talking to me.

It took me about 6 hours to stop wanting to reply to her missive. Being blocked helped. She blocked my husband’s phone, not mine or my landline, so if I wanted to be a dick, I could still reply to her. But I won’t. She wasn’t the only person hurt by this exchange. I felt bitch slapped a couple of times and absolutely felt ghosted. Because she did ghost me.

I’m already fucked, so fucked with her or without her makes no difference.

oh, and the really funny thing, I had never even heard of passive aggressive until I married him and his mother. Now it seems it comes out if I intend it to, or not.

The End

Nov 17, 2023.

He came home to die. I was able to be with him for a couple of hours. ended up in hospital due to breathing difficulties, not surprisingly, a bit stressful. he died 2 hours after i was admitted.

so it’s over. the good, the bad, the ugly.

people tell me to remember the good. there are literally only two things i can remember that aren’t negative. i am dealing with some of that shit today. the fact he refused to put me on the lease, the amount of hassle over that is back breaking.

so much stuff. trying to deal with it one thing a day.

Kinda Changing

I can’t really say how it’s changing, because it changes again in 12-24 hours. That’s not hyperbole, that’s just fact. I can’t keep up, so I’m more floating on the white cap in the Great Wave, than riding the wave. Hum, or maybe I’m on one of those boat’s that’s about to get hammered by that wave.

Previously, I’d been told I can’t get on the lease because ‘it was too hard’. So I’ve gone from just wishing it was over, to hoping it never ends, that he just lingers and lingers. The moment he dies, I’m homeless. But then one of his brothers found a work around – not just perfectly legal, but the way it is supposed to work. Which told me my partner had never intended to try and get me on the lease. This was a way that required him to do nothing. I needed to sign a couple of pages, show I was legal in this country, and bobs-your-uncle. It’s the best way he gets things done – other people do the work and he smiles and nods like it was his hard work that got it done. The government paperwork isn’t finished and returned – I’ve gotten no indication all is okay – but I have hope. Dangerous. Hope never works out.

I haven’t heard how he’s doing these last couple of days. I’ve spoken to him briefly, though. His voice is very rough, a sometimes indication of how well/ill he is. He just exaggerates it, so it’s not a true given. At that point, he’d been told he’d be home in a week if they can get his potassium leveled out. At the same time, they said his kidneys were fine. One of these statements is a lie.

I need a support animal. I wonder how I could get one? I wonder if his palliative care people have an inside track to getting one.

Dying? (again)

Emotionally, I’m doing better than I should be. How many times have I been told he’s dying, only to recover? And I mean that in this last episode, say, the last 3-4 months. You can’t keep flip flopping – relief, fear, relief, fear. That’s just impossible to maintain.

This time might be a little different. He is coming home, but he’s coming with palliative care nurses. At least, that’s the word right now. As always with him, it could change in 12 hours.

At first, he wanted me to visit him in the hospital, but I was like, if you’re coming home to die, why do I need to go to the hospital? So there might be a lie in there, somewhere, that I don’t know yet.

I am getting a little stressed out. It’s not about his dying, dying doesn’t scare me, it’s just part of life. But all the BS I’m going to go through afterward. I am overwhelmed with what I’m going to have to do.

Oops, I fell down this morning

I woke up just before my home help arrives, so figured I’d get up and have a smoke before she’d arrived. Got up, stood up and fell down. Hard.

I staggered, tried to grab something to get my balance, and didn’t. I hit the edge of my (very sturdy) art table, right across my right ear, and fell to my knees. I think that was the best thing, since I was already ‘up’ on my knees, I shuffled over to my bed step and sat down on it. A couple of minutes later, I used my bed as a pull up. It took 3 tries, but I was able to pull myself up on the bed, then get my feet under me, and hey presto, I’m up.

The home help arrived 10 minutes later, late.

I told her I fell down. She asked ‘are you awake?’ I’m like….yes? (I am sitting on my computer chair, speaking to her, so yeah, I’m awake.)

This is why I would really like someone who speaks English. If there’s an emergency, or something that really needs to be conveyed, I’d like to do it.

Anyway, 3 hours later, my neck and shoulder hurt. So does my ear lol, I took some painkillers and we’ll see how that goes. I know I should go to the hospital, it’s my neck that hurts after all. I could have screwed up my whole spine. but it’s fecking cold out there and I really don’t want to go. We’ll see.

oh dear

Two things. One, when I shared this blog with the police a few years ago, I gave them the wrong URL. I said it was ‘silent scream’, not ‘dear diary’. They may have never seen it nor did they tell me it was wrong, if it was.

Two, I discovered if I wanted this to be admissible evidence, I needed to include date and time of experience, when it happened. so anything I remember from the past, kick it offside. right after whatever happened, needed to be noted right then. There might be a couple of post like that, but it wouldn’t be a regular occurrence.

So yeah, 5 years of wasted effort. hahaha, invisible, indeed.

Revolving Door

Step right up! See the amazing resurrected man! Dead today, coming home in a week! And dead again, and coming home again. So he calls me and says ‘my liver, kidneys and heart are going. Is there anything I need to do for you?’ and I say yes, I want to be on the lease. He literally waves his hand, and says ‘done’. I just laughed.

I can’t even list everything that happened. I can’t get any information because I’m not on the lease. He’s now saying (currently) it’s too hard, because his mother is on the lease and she’s in asia and has been for close to 10 years. She has to do something or other to get off the lease, and being 97 yo and bed-bound, this isn’t going to happen.

so the day he dies, I’m homeless. My voice raised a bit which he took exception to.

I’ve no idea what to do. look for homeless shelters, I guess. maybe someplace for abused women, whatever good that will do. This is at least documented since 2018. Feels longer.

This is what an abusive sociopath’s playbook looks like. He wins. I lose. He will literally die to win.

edit: why am I still breathing? I should be so worked up my lungs don’t function. I’ve been less stressed and ended up in the hospital. But here I am. I get a bit teary eyed, but it’s more for me than him. The mental ticky box of things I’m going to have to do is overwhelming.

Again. When will I learn?

When I lay down, the whole situation fans out in chronological order. It makes sense. It’s clear and concise. But when I get up and open this program, my brain skitters like a puppy on linoleum.

honest to god, I’m an idiot.

TL;DR. BIL has conned me again that husband is dying, when he’s not.

This post is mainly about my brother in law, and lightly touches on my partner, who is not dying and probably coming home next week some time.

He was the one telling me all of my partner’s organs were shutting down (see previous post). it was a couple of days later I called the nurses’ station. I hadn’t before because they’d taken me off next of kin previously. but they didn’t this time. The nurse said he was non verbal, but aware of his surroundings. for some stupid reason, I believed BIL.

anyway, when I asked the kids (bil’s kids) how my husband was doing, they repeated BIL stance.

but really, it was a lie. a deliberate, nasty toxic lie. Its only purpose to hurt me, because I didn’t leave the house, I didn’t visit him on his ‘death bed’. When Bil told me these lies, I didn’t go into snot nose, ugly crying, sack cloth and grief screams.

It’s just evil. mean, because I can’t fight back. he backstabs and sneers, and whispers like a snake into husband’s ear ‘she’s smoking!’ and husband treats this like it’s a new thing. husband believes nothing I say about bil, it is pointless even trying. and to top it off, I don’t backstab. I do not say nasty things about people. i would say the truth but that’s pointless as it’s not believed.

So husband called me last night and said he’s probably coming home after the weekend. totally screwed up bil line about dying any time now.

i have a hard time understanding how bil thinks. just the evil coming off him. and my husband looks up to him like he’s a saint.

well, one or two more days/weeks and they’re gone. 6 months later his effect will wear off enough for me to talk to husband without him just parroting whatever that evil, toxic little man did to his brain.

edit; I forgot to mention me, how I’m reacting. The last 3 weeks, my lungs are ‘normal’. I’ve been breathing like a normal person. no stress, no whease, no cough. it was flipping amazing. Even when talking to my ‘dying’ partner didn’t change my breathing. then, through comments partner made, I realized bil was lying to me, backstabbing me, just generally having a good time poisoning my partner against me. once I realized that, my lungs started seizing up. I am constantly doing chest relaxation breathing techniques. the knowledge of what that ass wipe is doing and harmed my health. I have also come to the realization I really, really dislike that man.

once again into the breach

For the 3rd? 2nd? time in the last 12 months, my partner is on his death bed. as the doctor who has taken his case (in replacement of doctor strikes) has put him on NIL and no liquids. for 3 weeks. partner went in due to confusion and swelling in extremities. the ‘doctor’ wanted a culture of his hickman line, so nil for 3ish days. it’s going on 4 weeks. my partner can no longer talk or communicate in any way. his brain is not functioning, he can’t get out of bed. he’s lost bowel and bladder control. and he’s lost so much weight, he’s skeletal.

he is shutting down. again. i consider it a homicide. even a healthy person can die without food or water for 4 weeks. they now have him on glucose, because he just needs a bit of sugar to kick start his failing organs.

i may not have all the information, as his brother isn’t big on letting me know what is going on.

if you remember, i don’t leave the house. I don’t think I’ll die if i do, i know i will if i do. I am charging my mobility scooter. i have clothes picked out, and I’m going to go see him tomorrow. i don’t know if he’s going to be there when i get there.

knowing my BIL, he will clean out his bank accounts. i am not on the lease, so need to talk to them along with banks. doesn’t much matter because BIL is going to take care of everything, i will be informed not consulted. if that.

I’m in a pickle. on one side, my partner of 20+ years is dying. on the other side, my abusive partner of 20+ years is dying. how am i supposed to feel? at the moment, relief. tomorrow? terror.