After all that, with rehab set up for weeks out, everything arranged, finally this hell can get better, then he/they just decide he's good enough to go back home. Wait, what? I go apoplectic, I'm not taking him home, then everyone's yelling at me because I'm refusing to get the guy who can barely move in/out of my jeep alone. The guy you told me you'd have to keep for days, but now the night before Easter, everything closed, you'd rather just NOT? Hey, dad what year is this? He has no idea, out of his mind. I refuse to drive him. If I hadn't been here he would still be sitting in shit in that chair probably dead by now. And I could not, cannot move him. But despite anything I say, regardless of my crying that I weigh HALF what he does, I can't provide his care, they shove him in a taxi and just dump him in front of the house. He could walk (shuffle) in, high as a kite on oxy, right back into the shit chair. The pain med script didn't even get filled because the dr phoned it on an out of state lisence - Tbone's got 2016 hydros from knee surgery, so 'no problem'.
And now I'm stuck here scheduled to TAKE HIM TO THE DOCTOR omfg I just took him to the god damn hospital HE'S 100% FUCKED, what part of that needs its cholesterol checked? And how am I getting him in/out of a car? AND WHY BOTHER?? He can drive himself, he screams at me, from the chair he's not moving out of til Tuesday, until I try to move him, call 911 if I can't...or a taxi?....
Nebraska was texting incessantly throughout, not about this hell I'm trying to navigate, just about taking him back. Finally I give him a quick update on the grim details I've got going on here, and he says "my Amazon packages got stolen off my porch", and if he had been kidding that would be soooo funny, just the joke I needed. I blocked his number. Giving up on "amicable".
One by one by one by one. I try one last time. One last skinny gasp of effort. To break the insane cycle of Tbone killing Tbone, in this case. But the answer is always the same, in every category: LET GO. Stop trying. Give up.
I woke up already crying under a crushing weight of complete, total, all encompassing resignation. At some point, I'll have to go downstairs and see why it's so quiet. I'm not afraid of nor hoping for his death.