Dear Diary,
So here I am. I am still standing!
Two years ago I lost my very lucrative corporate career to the Covid-19 pandemic. Like everyone else who lost a career, it came from out of nowhere. I had planned to stay in my line of work until I retired or died, whichever came first. God had other plans for me.
I am now the full-time caretaker of my father, aged 81. He suffers from Chronic Kidney Disease (CKD) and is in Stage 4 Kidney failure. He requires dialysis three times a week for four hours. I moved home from New York City in 2017 when my father required surgery on his lower back. I never wanted to leave New York. I was as much in love with the city as I was with the man I gave my heart to who did not feel the same. Losing both of them and moving home dealt a huge blow to my soul. But here I am for better or worse.
My former life was so exciting. I lived, worked and moved among celebrities, million and billionaires and partied at some high-end venues as as a perk of my job. I still call many of these colleagues friends, although our correspondence has waned and I may never see them face to face again. I used to roam the halls of my office building in Rockefeller Center practically pinching myself daily due to the excitement of which celebrity I would encounter. The ones who became friends would call out to me and people with me would be impressed that I was known in that realm.
It was magical.
Now I am stuck in the mundaneness of caretaking. The same boring routine daily. I feel bad saying this, but truth is truth. I am responsible for everything. All meals are prepared by me. Housework and banking and medical appointments are now the order of the day. I fight times when I am bitter towards my father. If he had done his physical therapy after his back surgery and then listened to his primary care physician when he told him to drink more water because he was heading for kidney failure, things would be very different and I might have some semblance of a life of my own. Instead I am relied upon for every detail of my father's life. I feel sorry for him when he is reminded of things he will no longer be able to do. In return I am reminded of all the things I am unable to do as a result of being his caretaker. It is not like a regular job where you work towards a goal of time off or a holiday. It does not include pay and health insurance.
I haven't had a day off in 3 years or more. When I try to do something for myself, it is often derailed when my father starts feeling lonely or depressed. He is 81 and I just want to make whatever time he has left comfortable and happy. My intentions are true, but the bitterness does creep in. I'm just being honest.
Perhaps I will write more later today. If not this is a good start. I haven't written in years and it actually feels really great to have my thoughts and feelings out there finally.