To My Father-in-Law
It’s been some time since I have spoken to you. I wanted you to know that I felt badly that I didn’t embrace you when you were dying in the hospital. The room, the hospital, the way the nasty pulmonary doctor with dermatitis tried to "put me in my place" as a psychiatrist when he was wrong sending you out of the hospital before your infection was fully treated; his callousness and my inability to get him to readmit you sooner, and the ego deflation; but more so I felt that I was a somewhat responsible for not getting you readmitted faster. So I turned my sense of failure and insignificance into being disgusted with the steaming mask and grease and mess. I was angry that you were in this situation that you were stubborn yet it wasn’t your fault you didn’t realize just how sick you were. I was annoyed with the lack of real understanding by anyone but me of just how sick you were. When you became so easily short of breath in the rehab center even before you had a chance to settle in, it was all so Florida. Nobody gave a shit and nobody knew what needed to be done or cared. They all are so used to older people, other people’s parents dying; they just were annoyed to be caring for them, like the angry pulmonary doctor with seborrhea. I just was feeling disgust and now I regret that I wasn’t sweeter and kinder to you before you died. I was glad that I got off the phone with mom in time for her to see you before you died. I still want to punch the ER doc and I want you to forgive me but you just didn’t even get the fact that maybe I wasn’t being attentive enough. By that time I was sick of old people the mess leading up to and the dying. I was so sick of being there and being responsible for you. So once again I am so sorry and I miss your uncensored loving manner.
Love, your daughter-in-law