He recently hurt his back so badly that I had to help him get in and out of bed at night, and in the morning. When I was pregnant with my son, my foot broke because I fell down a ramp at work. I had to be placed in a boot and given a wheelchair because I couldn’t balance on crutches. I spent the night at his house, after that happened, and their hallway was too narrow for my wheelchair to fit. I asked for help and was told to stop complaining. I had to crawl to the toilet, down the hallway, because no one would help me. He brags about he used to intern at a hospital when he was in college. His job? Helping patients when the doctors placed them in traction with broken legs. I refuse to believe this man is my biological father. I swear he had someone else spit in an ancestry dna tube and just registered the tube to his email account.