Dad, every time you say something really nasty to me, I fantasize about dropping you off at the closest ER and disappearing.
Because of you, I have no life. I've given it all to you. That would make it so damned easy to just leave, because I have no ties. Except you. And I don't want you.
Sorry guys. I'm just having a rough day with a man I grew up loving, liking, and respecting. Somewhere between 2008 and 2012 he almost certainly had a stroke and he wasn't the brilliant, resourceful, and kind man that he was before.
I don't like this person. I didn't like the person he was before the Alzheimer's. This is all duty. Duty to take care of my father because that's what a good man does, and duty to myself, or rather, my self-image. I owe it to him and me to be as kind and generous as I know how to be towards someone I don't like or respect. I think I'm doing pretty well, all things considered. But I can't talk about this specific part with my sibling, his other caretaker, and the only other person who's here with me carrying this albatross (and we're not even the ones who shot the damned thing).