Dan's arrival time was 12n. I'm running a bit late (okay, I was literally dragging my feet, my instincts have kicked in and I'm not feeling so good about this) and during the days before his arrival, I'm letting a few people know what we were doing and of course, I'm getting the "Wow, that is so kind of you" and other nice admiration's. It wasn't exactly what I expected, nor wanted- I was fairly focused on the fact we were going to try and help another get the same deserved treatment and care that I had received, the intent was honorable, but altruism ALWAYS has a motive and that is a very simple one- the motive is based in how it makes the altruist "feel" about their own self-esteem. I wasn't thinking about that at the time, yet I was getting some nice accolades, except one person sent me a fair warning- and that still sticks in my mind.
Up to this point, Dan has told me:
1. He doesn't drink coffee
2. He doesn't watch TV, claiming it's mindless crap.
3. He's got degrees in Economics and Business.
4. He worries about "spreading the disease".
5. He's worried about what he will do if "he gets lonely".
6. He has trouble eating (a clue I wasn't paying attention to)
7. He has terrible diarrhea (like I needed to know, but wait- this was an obvious clue!)
Yeah, the flags are flying and I'm on my way to pick him up at the airport, thinking, "I've made a huge, huge mistake".
I can't find a parking space in the short term lot to save my life- I'm 20 minutes late, calling Dan's cell, he's not answering and I'm figuring the plane is late. I get in the airport, the flight HAS arrived, I have him paged, no show. He's not on the scheduled flight. I'm thinking, "Leave now, walk away from this", still- I wait in line at the check-in counter at the appropriate airline and the woman checks the computer after I give her his name, she is unable to verify if he's on the next flight, but tells me the next flight comes in such and such gate in 50 more minutes.
Plane lands, my cell rings and he's walking out of the boarding area- I'm checking this out thinking, "Oh shit, Albuquerque Junkie". I wanted to run screaming from that airport, demand that TSA put him right back on the next plane out of there, to anywhere!
We meet again, oh happy, happy- he's just so happy he's here and geez, why didn't you make your scheduled flight? I wait outside the mens room, with his laptop, for at least 15 minutes, calling my friend back home, telling her, "This isn't good, I wasn't thinking, I made a horrible mistake." He's still in the bathroom, I'm on the phone and he's still in the bathroom, for 20 minutes.
He comes out, I ask him if he's eaten. "No, I only had 2 cups of coffee". Flag starts flying again..... hmmm, diabetic, no food, only coffee, stated to me several times that he doesn't drink coffee. Okay. It's only 1pm........
"Did you take your insulin?"
"No, not yet".
Oh dear GAWD! So, the radar is in high gear, I get him to the car, he injects his insulin, just like a junkie pro (something about how they hold that syringe- it's subtle, but oh man, I'm really starting to think, "how I can ditch this dude?"). I'm looking at his arms, the tracks are there and geez, it's completely obvious that Dan has been at "this" for a long, long time. I don't think I've seen tracks that bad in over 30 years and I know what I see.
He's dressed all in black and we aren't talking "goth", he just looks like a dressed up junkie, with a yarmulke on his head. We bug out of the airport and I'm looking for a decent place to feed him, I find a Ruby Tuesday, pull in to park and he says, "I don't like to wear my yarmulke in a restaurant, people look and think I'm not eating kosher". This statement just blows me away. I respond with an abrupt, "I think that's your problem, I seriously doubt anyone even notices."
Yeppers, I have a real live problem on my hands and I'm already thinking, this isn't going to work.
I've already contacted the best medical facility in the world, gone in the back door- getting to the correct department and started the process to get him seen. I've emailed my own doctor, to obtain primary care and got a roadblock on that deal- serious shortage, not taking any new patients. I can deal with that, but I'm getting things lined up with the correct people at the clinic where he really needs to be seen and I'm having serious thoughts about this, because his logic is so freakin' skewed.
We leave the restaurant, I'm looking at his horrendously out of style dress shoes, thinking "these are NOT going to work in a rural environment", so I take him to Dillards- walk right to the shoe department (womens, oops!) and he immediately starts chatting up the saleswomen. I'm gagging, seriously gagging, looking for a shovel to choke on.
I take him downstairs to the mens shoe department, he picks out a pair that I would expect a 70 year old man to choose, not a man of 53- but that's fine, they're on sale and affordable. Run that card, it's only money! We go back upstairs to leave and he gravitates towards the high end cosmetics counter, talking to the nice looking young, unassuming woman- and I'm doing the "jaw-drop". I'm floored, embarrassed and I want to sneak out of that store and vanish. I'm not kidding. I mean, this dude is NOT that attractive- not anymore. He just looks like an old, burnt out junkie and he's trying to pick up chicks half his age.
I drag him away from the counter, telling him, "We really need to leave", get him in the car and head out for home.
Every 15 minutes or so, he's looking at himself in the visor mirror- after the 10th time, I'm finally asking, "Why do you keep looking in the mirror at yourself? He says, "I'm looking at my eyes".
"What's wrong with your eyes?" No answer.
I'm asking questions about his children, making conversation, killing time and driving like a bat out of hell to get home- he's evasive, gives me vague answers, being blatantly secretive. Especially when I hone in on the situation with his youngest son, who he claims is 25, staying with his mother, whom he doesn't care for and he's already asked if his son could come up here, too. (BIG FLAG)
He finally admits, the 25 year old son is sitting in jail, on drug charges. And he wants this kid to join him here with us? I don't think so!
We finally pull in, late- it's almost dark and he meets my husband, he's being very low-key and cooperative. We take him to the other house, where fresh, clean linens await- all the comforts that are necessary and leave for the night. I have some time alone to talk to my husband and tell him about all the odd behavior and I don't sleep very well. My radar is still in high gear.
Up to this point, Dan has told me:
1. He doesn't drink coffee
2. He doesn't watch TV, claiming it's mindless crap.
3. He's got degrees in Economics and Business.
4. He worries about "spreading the disease".
5. He's worried about what he will do if "he gets lonely".
6. He has trouble eating (a clue I wasn't paying attention to)
7. He has terrible diarrhea (like I needed to know, but wait- this was an obvious clue!)
Yeah, the flags are flying and I'm on my way to pick him up at the airport, thinking, "I've made a huge, huge mistake".
I can't find a parking space in the short term lot to save my life- I'm 20 minutes late, calling Dan's cell, he's not answering and I'm figuring the plane is late. I get in the airport, the flight HAS arrived, I have him paged, no show. He's not on the scheduled flight. I'm thinking, "Leave now, walk away from this", still- I wait in line at the check-in counter at the appropriate airline and the woman checks the computer after I give her his name, she is unable to verify if he's on the next flight, but tells me the next flight comes in such and such gate in 50 more minutes.
Plane lands, my cell rings and he's walking out of the boarding area- I'm checking this out thinking, "Oh shit, Albuquerque Junkie". I wanted to run screaming from that airport, demand that TSA put him right back on the next plane out of there, to anywhere!
We meet again, oh happy, happy- he's just so happy he's here and geez, why didn't you make your scheduled flight? I wait outside the mens room, with his laptop, for at least 15 minutes, calling my friend back home, telling her, "This isn't good, I wasn't thinking, I made a horrible mistake." He's still in the bathroom, I'm on the phone and he's still in the bathroom, for 20 minutes.
He comes out, I ask him if he's eaten. "No, I only had 2 cups of coffee". Flag starts flying again..... hmmm, diabetic, no food, only coffee, stated to me several times that he doesn't drink coffee. Okay. It's only 1pm........
"Did you take your insulin?"
"No, not yet".
Oh dear GAWD! So, the radar is in high gear, I get him to the car, he injects his insulin, just like a junkie pro (something about how they hold that syringe- it's subtle, but oh man, I'm really starting to think, "how I can ditch this dude?"). I'm looking at his arms, the tracks are there and geez, it's completely obvious that Dan has been at "this" for a long, long time. I don't think I've seen tracks that bad in over 30 years and I know what I see.
He's dressed all in black and we aren't talking "goth", he just looks like a dressed up junkie, with a yarmulke on his head. We bug out of the airport and I'm looking for a decent place to feed him, I find a Ruby Tuesday, pull in to park and he says, "I don't like to wear my yarmulke in a restaurant, people look and think I'm not eating kosher". This statement just blows me away. I respond with an abrupt, "I think that's your problem, I seriously doubt anyone even notices."
Yeppers, I have a real live problem on my hands and I'm already thinking, this isn't going to work.
I've already contacted the best medical facility in the world, gone in the back door- getting to the correct department and started the process to get him seen. I've emailed my own doctor, to obtain primary care and got a roadblock on that deal- serious shortage, not taking any new patients. I can deal with that, but I'm getting things lined up with the correct people at the clinic where he really needs to be seen and I'm having serious thoughts about this, because his logic is so freakin' skewed.
We leave the restaurant, I'm looking at his horrendously out of style dress shoes, thinking "these are NOT going to work in a rural environment", so I take him to Dillards- walk right to the shoe department (womens, oops!) and he immediately starts chatting up the saleswomen. I'm gagging, seriously gagging, looking for a shovel to choke on.
I take him downstairs to the mens shoe department, he picks out a pair that I would expect a 70 year old man to choose, not a man of 53- but that's fine, they're on sale and affordable. Run that card, it's only money! We go back upstairs to leave and he gravitates towards the high end cosmetics counter, talking to the nice looking young, unassuming woman- and I'm doing the "jaw-drop". I'm floored, embarrassed and I want to sneak out of that store and vanish. I'm not kidding. I mean, this dude is NOT that attractive- not anymore. He just looks like an old, burnt out junkie and he's trying to pick up chicks half his age.
I drag him away from the counter, telling him, "We really need to leave", get him in the car and head out for home.
Every 15 minutes or so, he's looking at himself in the visor mirror- after the 10th time, I'm finally asking, "Why do you keep looking in the mirror at yourself? He says, "I'm looking at my eyes".
"What's wrong with your eyes?" No answer.
I'm asking questions about his children, making conversation, killing time and driving like a bat out of hell to get home- he's evasive, gives me vague answers, being blatantly secretive. Especially when I hone in on the situation with his youngest son, who he claims is 25, staying with his mother, whom he doesn't care for and he's already asked if his son could come up here, too. (BIG FLAG)
He finally admits, the 25 year old son is sitting in jail, on drug charges. And he wants this kid to join him here with us? I don't think so!
We finally pull in, late- it's almost dark and he meets my husband, he's being very low-key and cooperative. We take him to the other house, where fresh, clean linens await- all the comforts that are necessary and leave for the night. I have some time alone to talk to my husband and tell him about all the odd behavior and I don't sleep very well. My radar is still in high gear.
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