Jeff's online journal, ramblings, whatever.


Hee hee. I just finished reading Ben’s journal. You know the April 8th, 1994 entry? Well, that is nothing an, I mean NOTHING compared to Ben’s love “poetry.” Tee hee. Ben, if you are reading this, see previous entry. For those of you who don’t know, Ben is a bother. . .err–my brother. I wish school would start. I can just imagine you reading this right now with your eyes popping out of your head, but it’s true. There’s nothing to do. Dad is now sicker than a sick dog. He’s so sick that Meals on Wheels® has to come every night to feed him. It gives me the chills. Brrrrrrrrr! It’s not so mu. . .SLAP! Thanks. I needed that. It’s not so much he’s sick but he’s acting like a self-centered pig. No offense. Mom says it’s the medication for AIDS-related stuff that makes him irritable. I hope so. There are TOO MANY SPIDERS IN THIS HOUSE!!! We need to call an exterminator or something. It gives me the shivers. Oh no! Not again! I’ll see you later. Bye! SLAP! Thanks again.


One response

  1. Odd that I told Ben to keep out of my journal while flagrantly disregarding his right to privacy. Oh, well. I was twelve, what do you expect?

    I didn’t talk about my Dad a lot in my journal. This is probably the most discussion he ever gets. By this point he was bedridden and dying quickly. The AIDS had in turn opened the door for him to get neuropathy, a disease in which your nerves just stop working. By now he had lost all control of his legs and everything below his waist. I wonder now why we had to have Meals on Wheels come and feed him when the rest of us were just eating what was in the house, but I suppose that it’s because at this point we were quite poor (in liquid assets anyway), because most of Dad’s disability checks went straight to his meds, and my mother being a schoolteacher in Utah left little else for the rest of us. Plus, the man needed a good three square meals a day to survive, and nobody was home during the day to feed him; that is, until I got to high school and we just got him a feeding tube and filled it with Ensure. I don’t know if I’ll be able to drink that stuff when I get old now. Too many disgusting associations!

    January 6, 2007 at 11:37 am

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