After my first chemo, I laid in pools of my own vomit and shinola and urine for 10 hours. I couldn’t get up. My husband was hunting, I had no way to call anyone and I had no idea who I could have called. I finally crawled my way to the bathtub and got in the hottest water I could bear. No worries about the mastectomy incision and infection.

I listened to Tommy banging on the bedroom door yelling, “please let me help you Mom” thinking, “there is absolutely NO WAY in ANY circle of hell I will EVER allow a child of mine to see me this way.” He finally gave up.

I’d rather die. That’s not hyperbolic — I’d rather die than have one of my children see me like that.

FWIW, I do place an extremely low value on my life. I’m just sure if I died tonight, everyone would move on just fine.

So, for me, in thinking back on my last visit to Dallas, *I* think the worst thing that could happen to Daddy happened. The WORST. His daughter and his son wiped his ass, his grandson got into the shower fully clothed to spray all of the crap off of him, and I almost threw up trying to empty the potty chair. That doesn’t even touch on what happened two days before.

And I think it is indefensible that this witty man of dignity and grace would EVER be in that position again and I think I’m the only one who sees that.

It makes me REALLY ANGRY that y’all are willing to sit by and let mother dictate how this is going to go when we all know returning to that house is a looming death sentence for him — brief upticks against a series of falls where he will eventually break something.

I’m so discouraged to find that the meanest person doesn’t just win on the national stage — the meanest person — my very own mother -- wins in my actual family.

It’s not a level playing field between Mother and Daddy — she’s willing to be as mean as it takes to get what she wants and he won’t. In my opinion, it is up to me to try to level that playing field for his benefit and I’ll go to the mat with that woman if doing so will allow me to move forward with a clear conscience.

I do love you all SO MUCH but come on — are you really OK with this?

Think of me as an advocate for Daddy. I’m not trying to create a fuss between us but I do think that everyone is so focused on not pissing off that woman that you’ve lost sight of the fact that there is another person involved whose life would be IMMEDIATELY and MATERIALLY improved by moving to an assisted living environment.

She can sleep anywhere.

Bidden or not bidden God is present.