I need to get this out. Consider it a rant, vent and reflection.
I have been worried out of my mind about my postal worker. We argued at the end of August about his buying a car. Yes, ok, I get it. I have bad taste in men. We have been friendly since 1984. About 15 years ago, we agreed we should have married but since we didn’t, it really did work out.
Given that , we have never really argued. We would separate. Well, we did have a major fight somewhere around 1986 but it sorted. I never stood up to him until the end of August over the car. Since he has Parkinson’s and mini strokes, limited income, my feeling was that he shouldn’t drive and could use taxis.
Now, my birthday is end September and he always, always calls me, sends me a card, drops by or gives me a present whether I have been married or living with someone else. Freaked my landlord out once when they came home and found flowers on the steps. Maybe not on the exact date but within a week. This time nothing but I know he’s stubborn and not well. K is paranoid, for real. He will not answer unless he knows who is calling. Also, since the 80’s he always has a piece of music for voicemail. When I left him for real in 1988, he had Fine Young Cannibals “Good Thing” for weeks. There is no music and the memory is full.
We have always been there for each other. He came over with blues CDs and Clapton when Buster the Biker dumped me (just before current husband). And he was a drug and alcohol counselor when he was in the army so he has been very helpful to me as I have been on this journey with my husband. I have listened to him and held him as he has cried over breakups and his father’s death.
As I continued to be unable to reach him, I became increasingly upset. This is one of the reasons I stand by my husband. He called all the local hospitals for me last week. No results. We were about to do a drive by his home today and contact the police.
Yesterday, late afternoon the cellphone rang with a number in Baltimore. Ah, another IRS scam, I thought. Voice mail! From K. But it’s weird. There is someone in the background with an accent who seems to be telling him what to say and the callback number is different. I know he has a cousin in Maryland but I begin to freak. I rang him back. Someone else answers the phone. It sounds like he says he is a medical resident, whatever that means. A twisted tale. Somehow, K decided to live with his cousin in Baltimore but now he’s in assisted living? I saw him at the end of August and whilst he had issues walking, he was competent and functional. His story is garbled and makes little sense. He says he woke in his cousin’s house and crashed into things. This would be normal as he has definitive mobility issues and has been living in a room for about 10 years. The cousin called the paramedics and he was hospitalized for 5 -6 days. He was sent to assisted living. He is complaining about the food. He says that they are charging him $5500 a month. On his credit card! Now, K has been on postal disability since 1988. His monthly income is much, much less than that. We live in metro NYC area so there is no way he has that kind of savings. He tells me that he has to charge it. I ask him where he is. Someone puts the brochure in front of him. He has difficulty reading it but I get the name. This whole conversation is a torturous process , clearly not helped by my berating him as to why he didn’t let me know he was leaving.
He is a Vietnam era vet. He also should be a Medicaid candidate. This whole thing smells and stinks to me. I keep on telling him he has to get me on his HIPAA. He is a Luddite and I get the distinct impression he does not know what I am talking about. Even though we have been friends for over 30 years, I have no standing. LOL, that’s the reason I married my current husband – to have standing!
I also explain I am extremely limited as to what I can do on a Sunday. He gives me his landlord’s name and part of his phone number but also says the guy is a Jets fan and won’t pick up the phone. I also have his psychologist’s number. Again, no one knows me. I knew his first psychologist. I ask if he talks about me. He thinks so.
So, this morning I call the VA, landlord, psychologist. The VA can’t give me any information except to agree that it’s wrong and my best bet is to get a power of attorney. He is in another state. His cousin’s name is too common as are his brothers. No callbacks yet from landlord or psychologist. I gave them the number K gave me. I asked K what the number is and get a garbled explanation of patching through landline.
I do know where he was living and my husband says we will go there tomorrow. Husband is concerned about K’s stuff, too.
My college boyfriend is a public defender in MD. I speak to him every other year or so. I call him and he calls me back immediately. He confirms my instincts appear to be right; he knows the neighborhood where this assisted living place and confirms it’s in a bad place; and I need to get the POA to truly advocate for K.
So, here’s another thing. The attorney and I go back over 40 years and K and I over 30. K and I always reach out to each other in times of trouble. The attorney called me a few years back because he could see something was wrong from my handwriting on the Christmas card. He also was nuts after 9/11 because he couldn’t find me. When he finally reached me several weeks later, he sobbed. I hold my relationships. I was surprised this morning that my husband said it’s a good thing. He usually mocks me. I am not sure what it means. Ties that bind?
I believe in the divine and wonder if I am not working right now so that I can help. Worse case scenario, we know that I’ll drive down.
I am tired of being strong and responsible.
What is love at the end of the day?
It’s not ringing right for me. Has anyone had a similar experience with forced assisted living? Scam? Suggestions?