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My parents separated when I was 10 years old. While they were married my
Mom had taken care of my father. Cooked his meals, did his laundry, cleaned
the house, budgeted the money, etc. When they separated he got his own
apartment, they sold the house, my Mom got remarried and we moved out of state.
We still saw my father on a regular basis every couple of months. Everything
seemed OK at first, he was doing fine on his own, he said he was seeing a
new girlfriend, and work was going well. Then as the years passed, we started
to notice some odd behavior. When we would talk on the phone he'd tell us
these outlandish stories of things that supposedly happened to him. The first
couple times it didn't seem too out of whack, but by the fifth story we started
to question how much of this was made up. We also noticed that we were never
introduced to his girlfriend. Years went by and only stories, "clues" placed
to prove her existance, but no pictures or anything. She supposedly worked
in Atlantic City, and we began to think that maybe he had a gambling problem.
He also showed signs of being a slight hypochondriac, with a bruise being
exaggerated into a broken arm and the such, but we thought it just to be
an annoying behavior that could be dealt with.
Then, about 5 years ago, we got a call that he was in the hospital with
congestive heart failure. We rushed down there, obviously concerned about
his health, but also concerned about his health insurance since he had
recently given notice at his job and was going to start a new one. It turns
out the heart failure came on because he had a flu-ish sickness but continued
to put in 60+ hour weeks at a job he was going to leave anyway! We thought
this strange for someone who was a borderline hypochondriac. While he
was sick we decided to help get his affairs in order. We went to his apartment
and it looked like a bomb struck it. That really wouldn't have bothered
me that much but when we investigated the bedroom, we found three trashbags
worth of laundry. Instead of taking his stuff to the laundromat he just
kept buying more! From the number of pairs of underwear, it looked like
this was going on for months. Then the bills started to pile in. His car
payments, a Visa card maxed out, a Sears card maxed out (all those clothes),
a check for $5000 he had borrowed against his life insurance. He was
definitely in a financial crisis, even though he had received half the
money from when the house was sold. We called his new place of employment
to tell them he was sick, and the guy I talked to said to just tell him to
forget it, they'll get someone else. So now we were terrified for him.
The sickness, the weird behavior, the debt, and now no job. Several sleep-
less nights passed, where we tried to work out the financials, and figure
out what to do. He was out of intensive care so we sat down and went over
his bills with him, he assured us that we had all of them. The next day,
a Mastercard bill came in the mail, again maxed out. We brought it right to
the hospital and wanted to know why he didn't tell us about it. He said
to us "That's the same bill as the one you had in the other pile". No it
wasn't! It was a different account number, and a Mastercard to boot. I
pointed these things out to him and he still denied it. It took about
five minutes for him to admit it was a different card. I was furious! Here
we were trying to help him, and he was lying right to our face! We came
to the realization then that he was a pathological liar. All those strange
stories, the dubious girlfriend, all lies.
But he's our father, and he at least deserved a chance at atonement. He made
a quick recovery, and my brother (who was still in school and had time free
during the summer) stayed with him, made sure he was OK, got groceries with
him, and got him back on his feet. We loaned him some money to help start
to pay the bills, and showed him how to budget, and get his life back together.
He was able to go back to work in a few weeks, and he found a new job, moved
into a new apartment, quit smoking, and appeared to be back on track.
At this point we were skeptical about everything he said. We would ask him
questions about his health, his financial situation, and he'd answer, but
after the credit card fiasco, we never knew whether to believe him or
not. He seemed on most accounts to be OK, his "girlfriend" in Atlantic
City had suddenly moved away (gambling stopped?), he kept his apartment
clean, worked his job. The only concern we had is that he was going out
to eat at cheap diners rather than cook his own food, mostly because
we didn't think it fit in his budget.
Then, about two years ago, he ended up back in the hospital, this time for
preforated hernia. We found out that he had the hernia, and knew about it,
even before the heart problems and had done NOTHING about it for years.
He complained about every little stomach upset but totally ignored something
as major as this. He was operated on and out of the hospital in about two
days, but called to complain that he couldn't walk, was having
gastic disturbances and bowel disruptions and was very sick. I was on GEEP at
the time and couldn't take time off, so my brother took unpaid time off from
work (he didn't have vacation, my mom and I paid him his lost wages) and went
to take care of him.
When I called to see how everything was, my brother said "He's not that sick.
He can walk. His gastric disturbances are being caused by bad diet because
he's ordering out for bad food every night. He has no food in the house, nor
any utensils whatsoever for making food. He says he's hot, then turns down the
thermostat to 50, five minutes later he's cold so he turns it back up to 80,
then repeats the cycle over and over. His bathroom reeks of cigarettes." I was
so angry. He was in the hospital on the brink of death only three years
ago, yet did not make any effort to eat healthier, stop smoking, or be
up front about his medical problems. All his effort went into elaborate lies
about how well he was doing. He could have told us about the hernia, he could
have probably done something years ago before it hit crisis stage. He could
have probably done anything to take responsibility for his life, but that
wasn't necessary because when he got in trouble we'd come bail him out.
My brother bought him a set of pots and pans, sat down with him, outlined
a healthy diet, and taught him the basics of cooking, like how to make
spaghetti. He told him that he HAD to stop smoking. That he HAD to take
responsibility for his health because we couldn't keep bailing him out.
He stocked my father's fridge, ensured with his own eyes that my father
could walk, and at least get to the grocery store. Made sure that someone
from my father's workplace (his only acquaintances) would stop by on their
way home (my father lived very close to his workplace).
By now we were going over everything he said with a fine toothed comb. He
was starting to be up front with us about a few things, like that he was broke.
I dealt with that. We went over every expense that he had. He was still
eating every meal out. I told him he HAD to eat at home. I went over
how much money he could save a week by eating in. He told me he was too
tired when he got home. I told him to make a big batch of stuff on the
weekend when he was home and throw it in the microwave. I found out he was
sending his polyester wash-and-wear clothes out to the cleaners even though
he had a washer/dryer in the apartment. I told him
they could be washed at home. He said they needed to be pressed. I told him
to buy an iron. He ssaid he didn't know how to iron. I told him to learn.
I found out he was having a cleaning person clean his apartment. I told him
to do it himself. He said he was lonely. I went over ways to meet people
and make friends. He told me he was happier just hanging around the
apartment. I said he wasn't going to meet people that way. Apparently,
he didn't like my suggestions because they involved effort on his part
to change his ways. He called my Mom (who he had been divorced from 15 years
and who had been extremely patient in helping out during hard periods), and
asked for a second opinion. He didn't like that either. He called my
brother and asked for money.
He continued in his ways. His bathroom still stank. His "girlfriend" moved
back. We told him to stop gambling. He insisted he wasn't. The outlandish
stories came back. He continued to eat badly and, hence, the stomach
ailments/flu/illness of the day came back.
We didn't know how serious they really were. We were afraid he was taking
too many sick days. We continued to give him advice on how to solve the
problems of his life. He continued to ignore us.
Then came the straw that broke the camel's back. This past Thanksgiving,
we travelled to my maternal aunts house (we haven't seen my paternal aunt
since she moved out of easy travelling distance when I was 13, I don't think
my father's ever gone to see her either). My father lives not far away,
so he said he'd be there at 3:30pm to go out for a movie and dinner with us (I
was going to insist we pay, I know he's broke). I cut short plans with a good
friend I hadn't seen in years to get back by then. I found out my
father had called, he was delayed, wouldn't be there until 6:00pm. 6:30
comes, and my aunt, Mom, cousin, and friend are going out to eat. I wanted
desperately to go with them but my father was coming. At 7:30pm we ordered
a pizza. My brother was broiling. He didn't care that my father was late,
he just didn't want to hear a lie about it. At 8:15pm my father arrived at
the door, followed a minute later by my Mom and aunt back from eating.
The story he told was unbelievable,. must have taken him an hour to dream
it up. He probably just didn't want to take off from work, which we would
have understood. Instead, he lied, and ruined my day with my friend, ruined
dinner with my aunt (which I could have done without missing him). My brother
went through the roof. He just sat there grilling my father about the details
of the story, which my father was unable to provide. After all these years,
he couldn't even show us the least bit of respect to do something as
simple as tell us the truth. We just weren't going to deal with it anymore.
Now, the current problem surfaced. He called us a couple months ago to
tell us there was a personality conflict at work and that he thought he
might be fired. This was not good news to us. A month later he got canned.
We spent a long time on the phone talking about what was next. The process
for looking for a new job, getting his unemployment (his employer was at
least nice enough to put down that he was layed off and not fired for
disciplinary problems), what to do if it took a while to get a job. He told
that he knew it was coming so he saved up some money, he was getting
two weeks pay, and with the
unemployment, he'd be able to survive for a while. He got a resume
together, visited the employment office at Rutgers (he's alumni), and
checked the local papers, filed for unemployment, started getting the
checks. Three weeks later, he called my brother and asked for money because
he couldn't pay his rent.
My brother refused. We are so sick of him taking no responsibility,
ignoring our advice and efforts, and then expecting us to bail him out.
If he can't afford his rent (which is quite expensive), he could move
into a cheaper place, clean his own apartment, do his own clothes, cook his
own food, but he won't. He will expect us to help him out. My brother and
I have a united front that we won't take him in with us. We know from years
of experience that he will refuse to live by our rules, will make no effort
to do for himself if we're there to do it for him. We don't want his lies,
and we are terribly afraid of having to take on his debt. It seems to me
like tough love is definitely called for here, but at the same time he's
my father, and I don't want to see him out on the street.
I'm out of ideas, and that's why I've written this huge long note. I'm
not looking for condemnation of my fathers behavior. I'm looking
for solutions that don't involve us having to baby him. I really don't
know what to do.
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