Here we go again.
What a day.
Today was my mother's visitation day.
I had arranged to meet my father in the hospital lobby.
The moment I saw his irritated face through the revolving door, I had a bad feeling.
He was complaining from the very beginning.
Now, a month after the fact, he was suddenly angry that he had been tested for dementia.
The test had taken place over a month ago.
He had also been angry that I had stopped taking care of him, so perhaps that frustration had reignited his anger about the dementia evaluation.
He kept saying things like,
> "You had me tested without my permission! I'll sue you!"
There was simply no reasoning with him.
I was exhausted.
When I told his primary care physician what had happened, my father was effectively banned from returning to that clinic.
Honestly, I can't blame them.
We decided to find him a new doctor.
I left that entire issue to our care manager.
I'm sorry.
---
After visiting my mother, my father and I argued in front of the reception desk.
I don't even want to be involved with him anymore.
When I told him I was leaving, he said,
> "Why aren't you stopping by the house? Aren't you worried about me?"
Before we visited my mother, he had told me that he didn't know how to dispose of the garbage.
I think what he really wanted was for me to go back and deal with it for him.
Everything revolves around his own needs.
I've completely run out of patience.
When I eventually tell him that my mother will be moving to Okayama,
I'm sure his reaction will be far worse than this.
Just thinking about it fills me with dread.
Apparently, professionals don't get directly involved in conversations like that.
They told me that I have to tell him myself.
They will be present, though.
I can only hope that having them there will make some difference in his behavior.
---
My father is very good at putting on a good face in front of other people.
The day after I left home, our care manager and a staff member from the Welfare Division visited him.
Later they told me,
> "Your father says he has absolutely no memory of saying all those terrible things to you."
Because he has dementia, I thought perhaps that was actually true.
But today's conversation proved otherwise.
He remembered everything.
He even explained, in his own words, both the abusive things he had said to me and why he believed he had said them.
He knows that he said those terrible things.
He simply believes that **I** was the one who made him say them.
He said,
> "I told you to get out because you called me demented!"
I replied,
> "Dad, I only told you that you had dementia on the very last day.
> Before that, you'd already told me to 'get out' and 'go home' dozens of times."
At that point, I stopped trying to talk.
---
This wasn't a simple misunderstanding.
It wasn't faulty memory.
My father genuinely believes that I am the reason for his anger.
His version of reality and mine are completely different.
There is no way a meaningful conversation can exist under those circumstances.
He will never admit that he has done anything wrong.
If he hates me that much,
why does he keep depending on me?
I won't be taking care of my father anymore.
---
## Update
It's 4:00 a.m.
I'm unable to sleep again.
Whenever I have contact with my father, I can't sleep.
After I left home for the last time, my headaches disappeared, and I had finally started sleeping well again.
But not tonight.
Ever since what happened earlier today, everything my father has done over the past two months has come flooding back into my mind.
I'm lying here wide awake.
He hurls abusive words over selfish reasons.
He clings to me completely.
When he doesn't get what he wants, he explodes in anger.
I had finally escaped...
---
My father's words are a form of violence.
Verbal abuse is especially cruel.
Because it leaves no visible evidence, no one truly understands it.
> "No one will help me."
That is the hardest part.
"I will have no further involvement with my father."
That is the only solution left.
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