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Elderly Abuse

I heard a loud thud the other morning around 3:30 a.m. I checked my monitor but he'd once again turned it to the wall so I was unable to see if he was still in bed. I went downstairs right behind my sweet husband and dad was on the living room floor moaning and holding his head. He'd fallen. Hard.

The first picture is the day of the fall. The second is the day after. The black eye keeps blossoming. He has a gash on his head, hidden by his silver hair and he skinned his shoulder/arm. He's a mess.

Was he using his walker? Nope. 85 year old toddlers cannot be told what to do. Or rather, they can be told what to do, they simply won't comply. Ever. In fact they get down right angry and throw fits. It's not pretty.

His physical therapist came to the house the next day and strongly told him to use his walker EACH TIME HE STOOD UP. Has he? Nope. Nyet. He was very angry with me yesterday because I kept asking him to use his walker. Also, I asked him if he would put aside his dislike of the beach cabin (WHO HATES A BEACH CABIN???) and go for two days so that Julie and Charles (my sis and bro-in-law) could come over and do some crabbing over the fourth. He is adamant that he's staying home. He's fine. He can do it on his own. He can take care of the animals. He can get himself meals, etc. I told him that his colorful face told a different story and that he could not be left on his own. Not now. Possibly not ever. I asked him very nicely to allow us to bring him over. If he didn't, one of us, either my sister or myself would have to stay home. I told him that two days would not kill him. He angrily said that they would. I mentioned that we have given up a great deal to care for him and couldn't he just give us two days? Nope. He refuses.

So, there we are. For now. I love that man so much but like I've previously said, he tries my patience daily. I've held him in my arms as we've talked about how difficult this journey is for him. To lose his independence, not be able to drive, barely able to walk and not be able to do all the joyful gardening that he's loved his entire life. I've commiserated with him, and told him how sorry I am. That I'm only trying to help keep him safe. He sees me as his jailer. It hurts. He says hurtful things to me. He gets angry. He's not the dad I grew up with...he's not. And that is one more painful layer to this already excruciating time for us. I love him. It's what keeps me here. I'm on watch 24/7. He's my job. A labor of love....

After his fall he talked to me at the dining room table. I taped it, because it was hilarious. He said he was going to accuse me of elder abuse and have me put into prison. I later showed him the video and said now I had proof he'd be lying. I've tried to airdrop it here to my Mac but can't because issues. Oh well. At least I'll have it to show the coppers when they come round to take me in.


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A Poem to an Abusive Man

I've been doing a bit of research on abuse, domestic violence and how it usually ends. It's not pretty and it's painful and I hurt every time I read another woman's tale of horror.

Did you know that emotional abuse is as detrimental as physical abuse? And that most emotional abusers continue on to become physical abusers? I didn't. I do now. I found a site where formerly abused women, on the path to recovery from their abusers, have written poems. This one below is one that haunted me.

Thank You

You wooed me with poetry
I bit on the hook
Had I only first read
The name of the book

I would have avoided
The very first page
For pages kept turning
Revealing the rage

The ups were a great high
The ride was a bash
But I rode with my eyes closed
To avoid seeing the crash
I knew it would come soon
But I never knew when
The rage and the leaving
And the path to the end

You had to control things
Determined you would
Emotionally destroying me
Every way that you could



Back on the horse
Monkey on his back
I see no light
Not even a crack
Back to delusions
Back to the lies
I see through his words
He can't hear my cries

Back into his soul
Back into his veins
The poison he pours
Dark liquid his chains

Backed into a corner
Heartbroken and torn
Back into the needle
The eye of the storm

Back to the wall
Soul bruised torn and broken
Back to my pain
His eyes half open

Back into the horror
Will he ever come back
Back into the nightmare
A needle in a sack

Back into his childhood
I loved him with fury
Looking back on his life
His choices my jury

How did this happen
Back to evil and sin
How can he do this
Lines on his skin

Back to my weeping
Back to my sorrow
My son, my love,
Has no more tomorrows
(all rights reserved)


As I've been reading Conference Talks, I was touched by one by Elder Neil L. Anderson. He spoke of healing. Not in a physical sense, although that is also within the purview of the Lord, but about spiritual healing. When we've done something wrong, and everyone has, we should rightly feel guilt. Sometimes we feel shame. Some say that these feelings are not valid, they are bad and unproductive, and I agree in part. Those feelings are horrible, but they are not unproductive if they lead you to real repentance and a change for the better in your life.

We are counseled to come unto Christ, so that He may heal us. There is no sin that cannot be forgiven. There is no wrong that cannot, in the end and with proper steps taken, that cannot be wiped clean. I'm grateful for this promise--because the world needs peace and I need mercy. (That's another quote from one of the apostles).

I'm so grateful for so many things--not the least of which is the opportunity to c…