Sorry, Dad

I almost knocked my dad out tonight.

It upset me on many levels.

My dad is the one who physically does the most for me. He drives me home from work four days a week, makes my lunch, does my laundry, picks things up for me. So an injured would definitely be a blow to my lifestyle. Others would step in, but he would be missed.

I also felt a little guilty because I often feel my disability has hurt him most -- other than me, I mean.

I know he doesn't regret me or anything, but I am also sure that by his 70th birthday he did not plan to have to be chauffeur and butler his youngest son.

It wasn't entirely my fault either, and I guess I was a little annoyed at the situation, too. He went into my condo ahead of me and the door shut behind him, which was fine. It's cold out. I was in my power wheelchair so when I got to the door, I just barreled into it and knocked it open. He was right there reaching to open it; hence the near concussion.

I should have known he would open the door. My dad tries to do everything for me because, I guess, it is easier for him to most things than it it for me. Of course, I neither want nor need someone to do everything, and I react poorly sometimes. That is another reason I feel that the disability must pain him so much -- my reactions to kindness, albeit over-kindness but still kindness.