i drove him out to his doctor in fair oaks in my mom’s minivan. he was obnoxious and gave me far too many directions at every fucking hundred feet. we finally get there, we are waiting in the waiting room, and he is called to go in. he tells me to come in with him. i say that i don’t want to. but he asks me again, and i feel like i have to go with him since his doctor is looking at me like i’m the most horrible person in the world for not wanting to accompany my dying father into the doctor’s office. anyways, he sits down in one of the chemo chairs – he wasn’t getting chemo today, he was just getting a refill of his oxycotin and morphine. the doctor writes him a prescription and then leaves to get him a lab test form. during her absense, my dad said, see, this is the chemo machine and it just goes whoo – making a motion from the chemo machine cord to his inner elbow, showing me the path of the chemo with a little whoo noise. at this point he starts crying, trying not to though, probably thinking about his approaching death and who knows what else. i sat there, stoic in my chair across the room, not saying anything to comfort him or hugging him or anything. i didn’t know what to do, i felt like i should not have seen this – i did not know how to react. the doctor came back with the lab form and showed sympathy and asked him what was wrong and gave him tissues and talked to him. and i sat there ten feet away, but mentally miles away – i was so distant from that action in that room. i really was mad at my dad that he basically forced me to come with him into the doctor’s room even though i stated that i really did not want to go.
he then drops of his prescription, seeing some 30ish blonde women that he knows and they talk for a while. i stand to the side, staring at the tv that is playing headline news, but not processing anything that was being aired. i might as well have been starting at a wall. he gets his labwork done and then we wait for his prescription – he starts talking again to this woman. they finally call his name, we go and pay for it and my dad goes into the bathroom so he can take some of his medication. i am waiting outside the bathroom, when i see that woman move across the waiting area when she sees that my dad got his prescription. moving to a seat closer to the bathroom. and at this point, i realize that this woman has been waiting here all day because she knew my dad had an appointment today, and she wanted to score some oxycontin. he comes out of the bathroom, and they talk, and then the three of us ride down in the elevator together to the parking garage. level p2. i am already getting upset because i know my dad is about to be involved in some drug transaction that is going to make me pissed at him even more. they keep on talking, i don’t pay attention, i walk about twenty feet ahead of them to my mom’s white minivan. i am sitting at the driver’s seat, pissed as hell, and they both get in the middle seat, and my dad tells me to wait a minute. they start crushing up a pill. i can’t even believe that my dad is about to snort oxycontin with some white-trash broad in my mom’s white minivan in this suburban parking garage. it just does not seem real. well, my doubts about the reality of the situation were proved false as i turned a quick glance around and saw my dad bent over snorting shit through a rolled up dollar bill. this is o.o.c. and not in a good way. she then buys two pills off of him, and says she’ll call him tomorrow.
it upsets me to no end that my dad is involved in this little middle-aged suburban drug circle. he tells me on the way back all sorts of crap about what snorting it does – “the medicine takes effect quicker” and he doesn’t feel sick anymore. fucking bullshit – you’re a fucking junkie is what snorting it is. i stared ahead the whole time, focusing on the road, and not responding to his attempts to make conversation. anyways, the person he snorted with is the person’s house he used to live in – he said that he moved out because the roommates were asking for pills everyday. so my dad is not only a fucking drug addict, he’s also dealing stuff. he gets fifty pills a week, and he told me that he can sell ten and then still have enough to get through the week, which is very obviously not true, since he was going through withdrawal on sunday night.
when we got home, i went up to my room and called my mom and told her that i was not taking dad to the doctor anymore and i told her about him snorting and about how emotionally draining he is. and she sounded sort of annoyed when i told her about his antics, and she told me that i would not have to drive him anymore. and i really want her to come home, and tell him he needs to go back to manasas. but, i think she’s to worried about his health to do that.
and anyways, i’m not that mad about all of this – just sickened – i haven’t cried once today. i just sort of wanted to document that this actually happened so later when i recall it, i will not think that i am exaggerating or making it up. and i just want to get out of the house and hang out with someone, but no one is fucking home – this is another reason i am writing this, to occupy time. i’m considering a trip to wal-mart just to escape this house for a while. oh, i hope sarah gets home soon and will go do something with me. this is what is not so hot about va – i know about three people. the few friends that i hang out with over breaks are far away actually going to college. and so i know sarah, who commutes to college, and joni who’s taking a semester off, and rebecca, who lives about half an hour away, and is busy tonight anyways. i really do know just three people here. how does one make new friends? this is why i need a job so i can meet some more people. i guess i can read more of my book. okay, i’m going to quit whining and end this here before i make myself sound even more pathetic.