I recently got into a fight with my dad about him not following new house rules about where to smoke cigarettes. (I don’t smoke, he does.) While I was yelling at him to put his cigarette out and go to the designated space, he taunted me by lighting one new cigarette after another (chainsmoking), intentionally and very dramatically blowing smoke at me while giving me a threatening stare, and saying, “Fuck you,” to me.
I yelled at the top of my lungs, “PLEASE DIE FROM A HEART ATTACK FROM YOUR SMOKING!” When he was about to light his 3rd or 4th cigarette, I rushed at him and attempted to yank it from his mouth, but he leaned back quickly enough for me to miss. He said, “If you touch me, I’ll have you arrested!” Then he got up out of his chair and came at me like he was going to attack me, so I said, “I’m going outside so everybody can see this,” and started going out the door. He grabbed me by my arm, trying to keep me from making it outside, giving me these bruises:
I yelled for help, and some neighbors who had overheard the whole thing and were watching it from their window called the police. Like always when it comes to my family, the police sided with the abuser instead of the victim, and acted like I was just mentally ill.
I accepted defeat for the moment, but kept thinking, “Something needs to happen to him.” I’m married to Satan, and three days later, my dad was driving home from work when, out of nowhere, his blood pressure went crazy, causing him to black out and lose control of his car. He ran a red light, got T-boned, and ended up driving his car up against some kind of concrete thing that blew his tires out. He was knocked unconscious by the airbags and taken to a hospital in an ambulance. Once there, they had to keep him sedated so he wouldn’t have a heart attack. My mom said they also did that thing where they shock your chest to bring you back to life. He was in the hospital for several days and my mom, brother, and I had no idea but we weren’t worried because we assumed he was on another bender in a cheap hotel somewhere. (He’s an alcoholic.)
He was put on medication and sent home, with a follow up appointment later. He’s on short-term disability and can’t go back to work until a doctor clears him. I expected he would be inspired to quit smoking (having been given a second, undeserved chance at life), and he claimed he was going to for New Year’s, but New Year’s rolled around and he didn’t even make it one day. His follow up appointment was a few days ago. For a few days leading up to it, we’d been getting into fights about his smoking again (specifically, where he smokes, because it’s too close to me). I told him he shouldn’t be smoking anyway because he has a heart condition. He said his doctor never told him to stop smoking. I said, “Well, he needs to lose his license, then.”
I thought to myself, “It’d be great if he goes to this appointment and the doctor finds something bad enough that he has to immediately put him in surgery, but that’s too good to be true.” But that’s exactly what happened. The doctor sent him back to the hospital by ambulance because the condition he has is overpowering the medicine. The doctor supposedly also told him he has to quit smoking. He’s been in the hospital for the past few days because of the procedure they had to do on him. I’m hoping something goes wrong and he never comes home, but it might take several rounds of this before that miracle happens. Gonna be THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE…
I tell Satan, “Next, we’ll work on my mom.” Hehehehehe.