he seems to be a real expert at rationalizing his own martydom.

I guess it's his way of trying to maintain some small degree of control over what's happening. I understand that -- his body is just completely falling to pieces and hurting and not working properly and he can't do anything under his own power to fix it. So he tries to control what he can.

The problem is, what he's exerting control over is not just his mode of transportation, but *me.* I'm trying to *help.* I'm trying to give him options -- more options means more control. But I guess when I don't fall in line with what he thinks should happen, it's like one more thing being taken out of his control.

I just don't know why he can't look to the left and see the other options.

((((Teppy)))) I'm with Jessica. Just show up. Then point out that his options are (1) let you drive him home, or (2) stay, which means you'll have wasted the trip. Which means, if you want to be evil, you get to play martyr.

Well, what I really want is for someone *else* to drive him home. I'm so sick and fucking tired of being the only one.

I know that's awful, but there it is.

The problem is, what he's exerting control over is not just his mode of transportation, but *me.*

Teppy, my grandmother is doing this to my mom and her brother, and it's absolutely a matter of control. She has to visit the nursing home where my grandfather is every day. She has to decide when. If they suggest she take a taxi, it's proof that they consider her a burden.

It's really not malicious. It's just a way of coping. It doesn't make it suck less for you, of course.

Or (3) call him a taxi from the hospital and push him in when it gets there. At least then it's just a trip to the hospital and back. And you still get the martyr option.

Okay? How do I even deal with that? He won't call the available person because he doesn't like the way she drives -- note that I did NOT say "beggars can't be choosers" -- but he's willing to martyr himself and stay in the hospital one more night because he doesn't want to inconvenience me tonight.

My gut instinct says "He's frightened and looking for an excuse to stay in the hospital overnight. He may not even realize this." My gut could be wrong of course.

Teppy, my parental situation is not the same as yours, at all. But I get the "I don't want to be *your* parent!" thing, and it's a really really hard one to grapple with. Can I just send a commiserly hug (if you'd allow it, that is), and tell you to back off as often as you can to assess his behavior and your reactions as dispassionately as possible? It really is time to let someone else handle as much as possible, so that you can maintain a healthy parent-child relationship. Recruit whomever you can to help as much as possible so you can maintain.

Let me just say that it took me eight years past my dad's death before I was able to remember him as the man he was. That's a lot of crap to work through without the other person there, and it's not something I wish on anybody else.

On an entirely other note--GC, the hair is beyond cute! It's really flattering and you look adorable. You always look adorable (I'm reclaiming this word on behalf of vocabularies everywhere. A certain loomy presence does not retain possession of it), but the hair adds the additional dash of oomph.

Treadmill has not arrived. I have resorted to vacuuming. Those who know me understand to what depths I have descended.

{{Teppy}}

Wish I had some good suggestions or options for you, babe, but unfortunately, I've got nuthin'. I did like Hec's suggestions of swilling vodka from a bud vase, but more for the imagery, than anything of actual use.

Barb? How's the ankle? Are you being kind to it and yourself?

I had kind of a hard night last night-- didn't realize just how much relief the heating pad had actually brought until I didn't have it. Darned auto-off. So my friend had the brilliant idea to go get those adhesive heating pads to use at night. And because she'd had a bad day yesterday, she decided we needed pie, so she drove, we went to the drugstore, had lunch, had pie, and then we picked up Abby's chocolate birthday pizza, so the upside is, at least I didn't have to drive, which probably would have really hurt. As it is, I'm pretty achy just from the small amount of walking we did.

But tomorrow all will be good because tomorrow is my baby's eleventh birthday. Man, when did that happen?

My gut instinct says "He's frightened and looking for an excuse to stay in the hospital overnight.

My gut went there too.

Mostly because, why would I have the phone numbers of my parents' friends?

So you don't have to play your Dad's dysfunction game by his rules? So you can handle these things on your terms?

I think you have to start setting some boundaries and terms to handle this. It's not up to him to just dump everything on you. You find it burdensome and stressful. So go ahead and set up the phone tree and parcel out the responsibility among those who can take it.