For YEARS my sister and I would complain about our father. His obsession with numbers and how he couldn't talk much about anything else. How he would never clean the house and trash for weeks on end. How after trying to have a conversation with him, we would want to beat our head on the table. How he could never see a positive side to things. How ANY change would set him off to be even more depressed or anxious or both. How he may not be able to remember something that we said, BUT he could have our phone number, library card number, our social security number, our income to the cent, our weight, our height, AND our checking account number memorized in a jiffy.
My dad's calculator stopped working years ago and of course, to add it to the list of things he won't replace, he hasn't bought a new one. He has been balancing his check book in his head. Of all the things that I pray and worry about it in my father's life, his finances aren't one of them.
Over the years while the internet and social media has taken over everyone's lives he has used the world wide web for one thing: to research animals. He even knows about a few different parasites in detail and their Latin names. If my dad isn't at home or work, then he is probably at the library.
Over the past 10 years or so, every once in awhile, I will catch a moment when his mind is healthier and how it "used to be." His laughter is contagious, he is rolling his eyes with a big grin, giving that hilarious perspective in a one liner comment and moving his head rhythmically to the beat of a 1970's classic rock song.
When we were kids our dad would love to make us laugh. He would roll his eyes as far as he could to the side and then calmly state with his paralyzed eyes, "oh my gosh, they're stuck." When spring would roll around, he would randomly bust out with the same poem, "Spring is sprung, the grass is ris', I wonders where the birdies is..." Then he would whistle to the best of his ability like a bird singing in the spring.
He is the man that introduced me to funny, what is funny and how to be funny. One time my mom informed me that I got the wit and sense of humor from my dad. It is one of the biggest compliments I have ever received.
This past week an accumulation of events and the ugly battle with his unhealthy mind led him to the ER. If he hadn't driven himself to the hospital... If he hadn't cried for help... If he hadn't admitted that he needs extreme psychiatric care he would have lost the battle completely. He is a victim to his mind. He CANNOT let go of his past and he CANNOT stop the anxiety of future events. He very rarely can enjoy a moment in life. He did not choose to be this way. If it were up to him he would have a different life. He has a mental disease and needs to be treated just like any other chronically ill patient. We almost lost him this week, but THANK GOD he is a fighter. In his very, very, VERY weird way my dad is a fighter. God loves him just as much as missionaries, just as much as doctors, and just as much as any person with a healthy mind.
