Moving on

I have an answer to a question I've been afraid to confirm.  I'm done. 

One of the most irritating things about being in a wheelchair is having to rely on someone else for things I used to be able to do.  Since John moved out, I've had my suspicions that he was only using me to babysit his kid, and now it's confirmed. 

My furnace filter is so choked with dog fur that it recycles too much.  I sent a text to John asking if he could change it for me, as my furnace is in the crawlspace.  I got home from dialysis and there was a really foul reply from his girlfriend demanding my fat motherfucker ass should stop asking john to do things or there will be big trouble. 

20 years ago I would have went ballistic, now I just don't care.  I waited until today to see if John had any comments on it...I ended up having to call him.  He's such a pussy. 

The first thing out of his mouth was asking me if I was intentionally trying to start shit with Trish and that I needed to 'slow my roll'.  No apology, explanation or even a conversation.  He was blaming me for her spastic episodes!  I firmly told him that all he had to do was say no, but if I couldn't even talk to him about anything, we were not friends.  

I've fought so much to keep people in my life that avoided me.  No longer, if someone wants to be my friend, they have to work for it.

Moving on.