Dad
My father worked in concrete for 4o years. It’s all he’s done since he was a teenager. He’s worked for various companies, even started up his own company which dissolved when my mother left him. It did very well for itself. When I was little we weren’t dirt poor, but poor enough. My father and mother had health insurance, we were -okay-.
In 1984 or 1985, and I was barely a squirt, my father had a heart attack and wound up in the hospital. He had to be 34 or 35. While in the hospital, the nurses had left a heating pad on his leg full blast the entire night. It had burnt his leg so bad that the blood valves in his leg were virtually ruined. The circulation in that leg would be forever ruined and would eventually lead to what is now Phlebitis.
His leg is now permanently purple due to lack of circulation. Eventually, he had the same growing ulcer on his leg for 2 years straight before we were able to seek some medical help at the Johns Hopkins wound care facility in Baltimore. After unsuccessful skin graphs, they were able to finally clear up the determined ulcer and my dad would be ulcer free. For the first time in years he had a clear leg besides the purple tint.
The doctor told him he had to quit work, or he would indefinitely lose his leg. So we struggled for two years to get him on disability, which we finally got in 2002 after surviving on my $8/hour salary at the Veterinary hospital I worked at.
Disability still isn’t much, but our salaries combined is allowing is to live comfortably, and I am able to amount a small savings with my new job. His health insurance alone is $600 a month, because of course they will not give him normal health insurance for some unknown reason. He has no retirement, he has no money, he has nothing.
I was looking at his leg today, and I can see the ulcers starting to come back. The skin itself is starting to bubble and fester. I will provide pictures below that are not for the faint of heart.
I am deathly worried for my father. Farming is our way of life, and if he were to lose his leg and prevent him from being able to do all of the things he enjoys doings, it would kill him. I am praying for any sort of miracle that this doesn’t happen. I just want my father to be okay. The entire reason I moved back in was to take care of him after his stroke.
Anyway, to the pictures. They are pretty gross, and my good camera is broken, so the quality is pretty poor.
Picture #1
Picture #2
Picture #3
Picture #4
So add this stress on to some arguments with some friends, and another cryptic message from a friend earlier this evening, my vacation isn’t starting out so well.
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