Where have I been?!

Hey, hello everypony that remembers me! Maybe two of you by now.

Seriously, though, I haven't died, or quit unannounced. I have,however, had a rough couple of months. Let me elaborate.

In early September, my father became ill. He apparently had an infection in his liver, and he came pretty close to dieing - twice. He apparently had an abscess on his liver, which goes to show you the importance of brushing your teeth. He hardly ever did, and now he has many thousands of dollars of dental work, lots of pain, and the infection spread to his liver as a result, and filling his pleura with fluid. Or, to use the technical term the doctor gave us, gunk. The pleura, by the way, is the large sack each your lungs sit in. And after a week of giving him some fairly hard pain medication, as well as antibiotic, he had a new problem - his memory failed him. For a while, he completely forgot where he was, or why he was there, and even had trouble recognizing my brother. The doctors think they over-did the medication. Afterwards, until about three weeks ago, he had some memory lapses. He didn't forget who he was, or who I was, or things like that. It was little things, like, he'd become fixated on his oxygen mask, and kept wanting me to crank it up higher, even though there was no way I could do that.

The whole time he was sick, about four or five weeks, I had a hard time caring. You see, my father and me, we don't get along very well at all. Although, it's only been these last few months that I began to realize just how bad and damaged our relationship is. You see, he's a bully. As long as he gets his way, and i do what he says, we're fine. Do what I want, try to stand up for myself, and there's trouble. And, oddly enough, even though I realized his controlling ways years ago, I never thought of him as a bully until my dear friend pointed it out, and, slowly, I'll admit, I realized she was right.

I could go on about my father for quite a while, but I don't think there's any need. Let's just say, he was very sick, and I really didn't care. I only wondered if he died, what kinds of things would I have to do?

And just as he was getting better, I learned my cat had hyperthyroidism. He's taking medicine, and getting better, but then he had an episode of throwing up all night. Turned out to be an inflamed stomach lining. He seems to have recovered from that, except he's not drinking much water. And I got about two hours before I can call the vet.

I know, TL/DR. Well, now that you've skipped to here, here's the short of it: My dad was sick, and I didn't care. My cat is sick, and I care more about him than him.

And work! Don't talk to me about work!