Weird cardiologist asked me if I still love my kids. I think he was attempting to identify my support structure. With no legs, it might be hard to undergo cardiac procedures without help.
When I lost my second leg, I kind of forgot. I got out my hospital bed to pee and tried to walk. I fell, pissed, ripped my staples wide open, and seriously injured my spine. As I laid whimpering in a puddle of blood and pee, the nurse responded to my bed alarm. Then security because i screamed at the nurse. Then more security because I screamed at the first security. One of the idiots threatened to throw me out for my language and volume. So I started crawling, naked but for a hospital gown, butt likely exposed, towards the exit and a snow storm.
I think it is called chemical restraint. But not a knock out shot. It was the ‘I love you man’ shot. Starts with a ‘B’. As someone was cleaning up my mess, I confessed why I’d been so angry.
While sitting in a mixture of my own blood and pee with no legs, I realized my children dont give a shit about me. While still in ‘I love you’ town, I made the conscious decision not to give a shit about them. It is a survival thing.
Do I still love my kids?
At first it was facade to combat crawling into a snow storm naked.
Later it helped me not harm myself in other ways. Not with a gun or overdose. But things like almost deciding to live outdoors rather than accept help from the VA. I wanted help from no one because I felt I dont deserve it. Maybe I am over that now.
So ye, maybe I love my children, even though they are little assholes.