So since the last time that I actually blogged, I discussed my trials with quitting smoking, and I am proud to say that I have been a non-smoker for ten months now, and I am feeling better as the days go by. There are occasions where I feel like that COPD commercial with the elephant sitting on me and inhibiting my movements, but I am chalking that up to the fact that my lungs are rebuilding themselves. I do wish however that I was truly in a smokefree environment, but it is what it is.
My father’s brother, who happened to be my favorite uncle, had his house foreclosed on and he needed a place to stay so he calls us up out of the blue and asks if he can stay here. I was terribly apprehensive at the thought, because I know what it’s like to live with family members, and when it doesn’t work out, a family tie is broken. Which is what happened in this case. My sister decided to approve of him staying here, so we let him stay. Everyone seemed to like the idea that my uncle was going to stay here. Even our grandmother Nanny cosigned on Donny being here. Problem was that this man is a sever drug addict and he misuses his prescription medication. Now keep in mind that he never told me he did drugs or anything like that, he did however tell my sister that he did drugs. This man abused his Nortriplene and Oxycotin. He would take 10 of the Oxycotin every time he “claimed” he was in pain. I’m sorry I never bought the amount of pain that he was in. His shivering and shaking and moaning and groaning seemed to be contrived and he only seemed to put on that act whenever someone was around.
He would hallucinate, and claim, “big beings as large as brown cats” were disappearing through the walls. He would literally eat us out of house and home. Never replacing what he ate. He would rummage through our cabinets at night while we slept. Then he would turn around and accuse us of stealing from him. He would sit in the living room and count his Oxycotin claiming pills were missing. Yeah you think idiot? I mean really you take 10 of them at a time, that bottle surely is not going to last you.
What would get me the most about this man was the fact that we would pay him to take my sister to work and he would never get her to work on time because he would always like pull over to the side of the road because he had the “urge” to urinate. Oh yeah I forgot to mention that he had Interstitial Cystitis, so he would live in the bathroom every moment because of his urge to urinate that would never seem to happen and he would fall asleep on the toilet. Luckily for us we had a bathroom in the basement, but just because we have one does not mean I want to use it. Or rather I am forced to use it because some jackass was that inconsiderate of his hosts.
Everyday he would leave this house late to go sit with Nanny (oh yeah I forgot to mention how he would grift me out of funds because he was making unnecessary trips to pick up Nanny to ride with him while he took my sister to work. That would be another reason why he would get my sister to work late. My grandmother lived the opposite way of my sister’s job. Complete opposite by a lot of miles and he would make these roundabout trips everyday. Each time claiming he didn’t know how he would be able to pick up my sister because his car was out of gas.
When we finally got the nerve up to ask this man to leave, his behavior got even more strange. As a matter of fact the day I reinforced my sister’s request for him to leave, he sat in the dark in the living room. That was freaky, because I stopped coming our of my room the entire time he was here because he was creeping me out. He was losing his boundaries, and I was tired of him being here. I don’t like drug addicts and I don’t like alcoholics. I don’t know what is worse between the two, but I don’t like it around me.
Well as he sat there in the dark, it kept me on edge, then he finally turned on the light and fell and broke our dining room table. However, when you look at the table, the break is not a result of his foot getting caught in the rug and falling on the table, but a direct hit with a fist. The data presented contradicted what he said, so my guess is he called himself coming around the corner to ambush me and got caught up. The stuff on the table was not moved from a fall, and the thick glass was cracked not because he hit his head on the table, but because he put his fist through it.
I was putting him out the next day, and I couldn’t wait for him to leave. Only thing was he pulled his extreme urge to urinate act for 5 hours, until I came out of my room and made him “wrap it up” and leave. That man was creepy. I don’t like him now, and I am extremely bitter over the ordeal that my sister and I had to go through.
Then to make matters worse we found out that he was sending his money to someone in Jamaica (some type of get rich quick scheme). He never contributed to this household. Never offered a dollar or two for food. Yet he had the audacity to send it to Jamaica? He watched us struggle to feed the members in this house and that was the payback that we got.
I remember after our dad died, no one on his side of the family ever came around to see if we needed anything or even offered us food (partly because they didn’t like our mother) yet here was this man (who really was my favorite uncle until now) showed up at our doorstep for help. I don’t even remember him showing up to our house with so much as a loaf of bread, but he needed our help. Like I explained to him that I wanted things to stay the way that they were. If no-one ever came around or did things with us, I wanted it to stay that way. I wanted it to remain consistent.
Now? He can’t even come by and ask for a glass of water.
It doesn’t pay to take advantage of your family members.