…the harder they fall

I think about my dad dying a lot. That sounds and looks horrible now that I actually typed it, but let me explain. Throughout the years, my father has done some terrible things and treated his family very poorly. Being an alcoholic has made him very mean, abusive and controlling. But I still love him and I worry about what is going to happen to him because of what he has done to his body. He drinks straight vodka, sometimes starting as early as 7 am, smokes about two packs of cigarettes a day, eats like crap and gets no exercise.

You know that expression “God protects fools and drunks”? My dad must have some kind of guardian angel that has protected him all these years because he has never had many consequences for his actions. Even when he was arrested for assault (lucky recipient: me), he only got a slap on the wrist. But lately, something strange has been happening that gives me a very ominous feeling. My father has been falling. Like, down flights of stairs. No one has been home to see him do it, but my mother has found the evidence. Two times we know about he put his head through a wall. He blames tripping or “carrying too many things at once” or his hip giving out. It is really scary to think that my mother could come home from work to find him unconscious or worse.

A few years ago, my dad was mowing the lawn and somehow rolled the riding lawn mower down a small hill. When my mother came home, he was still pinned underneath the running motor and blade. It was a scary near-miss, but afterwards we found it mostly funny…like a victimless drunk driving accident. It seemed like an isolated incident and because of the pain associated with the shoulder he dislocated, we thought maybe he learned a lesson. Nope.

Last night he fell again. My mother found him in bed with blood running down his elbow. He shrugs it off like it is normal and god knows a lot of really crazy things have become normal in my family, but it has to scare him. I used to worry about liver disease, lung cancer, etc. but now I worry more about him having a heart attack or literally breaking his neck.

On a lighter note: he now is saying he thinks he broke his thumb. My first thought: maybe now he can’t write emails! My mother burst that bubble by explaining he has always typed with two fingers.