My parents are suppose to fly back to Taiwan in two days. Except my father’s health is wobbly. He’s still experiencing dizziness on and off. From the outside, it seems more off than on because he can walk by himself, but who knows? I think they should still fly back and this is where it gets dicey. Yes, it’s partly for selfish reasons because I want my space back again. Ok, it’s mostly for that reason. I’ve been so focused on living alone again that it’s clouded my brain. I see all things through that lens at this moment–how can I get to that point? I will do almost anything to get there.
Side note: My mother’s brother is a doctor. I cardiologist, I think. He had plenty of advice to give when I had my heart issues, even though he had never seen me as a patient. That’s the Taiwanese way. Everybody gets all up in familial business, whether it’s warranted/welcomed or not. My mom was talking with him last night about my father’s dizziness and my uncle expressed surprise that the ENT didn’t prescribe something for the flight back. My uncle recommended postponing it, which, no. But also, he’s not an ENT. He has not seen my father. So he may be making an educated guess, but it’s still a guess. Here’s my educated guess knowing my father: The ENT recognized that the problem wasn’t as big as my parents have made it out to be because my father is a hypochondriac and my mother has Munchausen’s by Proxy. I have a little more basis for my educated guess than my uncle, but it’s still a guess.
Side note II: I just went on a morning constitutional with my parents and it was a balmy 39 degrees. No wind, so it was really nice. The last five minutes, though, my mom started talking about what she needed to pack for the trip back and it was nonstop fretting for the next five minutes. Her anxiety brain took over and she didn’t need any input from anyone else. Granted, they’re going to have to quarantine in a hotel for two weeks, but still. Not to be cruel, but there’s nothing I can do about that or their packing. And it wasn’t as if she wanted advice, anyway. She just needed to talk it out and was not going to be deterred by the fact that I did not say a word. I increased my speed so I was out of earshot and she did apologize later, but it didn’t mean anything because I knew she would do it again. Earlier in the visit, she apologized for dumping on me about my father and said she wouldn’t do it again. I told her not to say that because we both knew it wasn’t true. She admitted that it wasn’t true (and it was more her wishful thinking than anything else).
But my selfishness aside, I really do think it’s better for my father as well to be back in Taiwan. He knows the language and can talk to people more easily. He has friends who care about him and a community he can somewhat fit into (my mom tells me all his complaints about people slighting him in said community, but it’s something), and places he can go on the regular–like the local morning breakfast shop. He’s more comfortable there. Yes, he talks about wanting to be in America when he’s there, but that’s because he’s hollow inside and needs to be constantly flattered and admired, but he has more chance for that to happen there than here.
In addition, my mom says his paranoia and ‘bad moods’ aren’t as bad there as they are here. She’s not the most reliable of narrators, but I bet it’s true–even if not to the extent she professes. She says it happens once a month or so there whereas his paranoid episodes happen roughly once a week and the ‘bad moods’ are at least every other day. She might not be counting the pouting and the casually cruel comments, though, as they’re minor in comparison to the other shit.
But I can believe that he does better in Taiwan than he does here. Here, he’s a fish out of water. He hasn’t lived in America for almost thirty years and even then, his thinking was antiquated for the times–but not nearly as bad as it is now. He’ll ask me questions about Americans that are so off-base, there’s no way to even address the question without going into a ten minute explanation of why the question is so wrong. Oftentimes, I’ll just give him a simplified answer because one, I don’t have the patience and two, he won’t absorb/remember what I’ve told him, anyway.
I’m sure he has just as many stereotypical ideas about Taiwanese people (and believe me, I’ve heard some of them as well), but, well, to be cold, I don’t really care. Once he’s out of here, it’s not my problem any longer. I don’t have to brace myself wherever a particularly mulish look comes to his face (which means he’s going to ask n incredibly ignorant and/or problematic question) and scramble to figure out how I’m going to give a bland answer that won’t provoke him in some way without giving credence to the bullshit he’s spouting.
It’s funny. My mom scolded me for not being more respectful and loving towards him, but outright admitted that he wasn’t capable of doing the same for me. She blamed his pathology, but didn’t take it to the logical conclusion that she should have seen as a psychologist–therapy for him. Nope. The answer to her was that I, the ‘normal’ one (her word, not mine) should coddle him and pretend to feel something for him that I don’t. She suggested I view him as a patient, which is messed up. One, he’s my parent. He’s the one who’s supposed to be taking care of me, especially during this time. We knew that wasn’t going to happen, but at the very least, he could have just not done any harm. Well, no he couldn’t, because that’s not him. But ,in theory, as a father, you’d think he’d want to do the thing that would help me out the most. Ha. No.
Anyway, even if he were my patient, I wouldn’t love and/or respect him more just because. I don’t think that’s a good way to think of a patient, let alone a parent. I would treat the patient with compassion and to the best of my ability, which is what I’ve tried to do with my father. Without getting anything in return but grief, sexism, and anger. This is apart from the dementia, mind you. He’s always been a narcissistic, self-absorbed man who can’t think about anyone other than himself.
Whew. It’s all coming out now. During NaNoRebel, I had planned on writing about my recent traumatic experience from several different angles, but the one that really touched a nerve inside was when I started writing about family dysfunction and how a traumatic event didn’t necessarily make the dysfunction any better. And, in this case, it made it worse because my father couldn’t handle me being the focus of attention.
Two days. I’m holding my breath because so much can go wrong between now and then.