Nonetheless, for a brief period of time I could think my own thoughts---which is not to say that I was there long enough to actually follow a chain of thought to its logical conclusion. Far from it.
And that, dear reader, is what makes my life torture: the certain knowledge that any intellectual skills I once possessed---the ability to read, analyze, write carefully, or to speak a foreign language---all of those skills which need regular exercise, which must either develop or decay......---all of those skills are atrophying.
Instead I spend my time in endless conversations with my mother about her (very genuine but irreversible) worries (worries about her health condition and my father's), or emptying my father's urinals, or helping him do his daily exercises, not to mention shopping for adult diapers and the various medicinal items old people need, as well as regular grocery shopping, etc.
And the visits by various health care professionals are a real time-killer. Their frequent phone calls--not to mention other phone calls----contribute to the overall noise, and put me on edge.
In my most unhappy moments I think: my life has been taken away from me so that my eighty-six year old father can talk about his life in the 1930's or 1940s' (his favorite time periods) and so that he can eat ice cream (his favorite food), or my life has been sacrificed so that my (eighty-five year old) mother can shout and complain to my father (which happens often during the day) and so that she can watch soap operas at night.
In all honesty, I think my elderly parents do deserve these things. They deserve to have a life.--- But at the price of my current unhappiness? And at the price of my future happiness? (Because three years of unemployment will certainly affect my future......--No, not merely three years of "unemployment", but three years of mental and intellectual idleness.)
And it is for all of these reasons (ignoring my social isolation and the absence of joy in my life) that I would like to die. I do not, however, plan to take my own life.
If I do not attempt suicide, it is only for one reason: I know of no painless, fool-proof method.
Any method might fail to kill me, and might lead only to serious injury. And if I did fail at suicide but became permanently disabled, my elderly parents would be in no position to care for me. (I currently have no health insurance.)
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