Monthly Archives: September 2012

One Rainy Night Part I

One night, my girlfriend and I were at a rehearsal dinner for our friend’s wedding (that was the next day).  We had been out for quite a few hours and throughout this time there had been a constant stream of light rain.  On the drive home, the rain seemed to pick up a bit and my girlfriend mentioned that she hopes that my father did not leave our dog outside.  As I have mentioned before, my father has a track record of letting my dog out to go to the bathroom and forgetting about her.

When we pulled up the driveway, we could see my little dog in the backyard hiding under the patio table.  We sat in the car for a minute or so (not too long!) to see if my father would let her in.  No one came to the side door.

So, my girlfriend and I opened the garage, let our dog in with us and waited about five minutes more to see if my father would let her in.  Still, he did not come to let her in.

My dog’s fur was damp and it seemed like she had been outside for a little while, but it could have been hard to tell since we did not know how long she was under the patio table trying to stay dry.  This angered me that my father would do something like this, which is, leave a little 9 pound dog outside in the rain after I had specifically told him that he does not have to let her out and that I would take care of it.

As we walked to the side door to go inside I assumed he was drunk and forgot about her.  But, when I approached the door, something made me think that he intentionally left my dog outside.  When I tried to open the door, the door was locked!

My father came straight to the door.  He said, “Sorry, I thought you were at a wedding”.  Immediately, to my surprise, my girlfriend said “that does not mean you can leave our dog outside in the rain all night”.  I assumed my girlfriend was thinking the same thing I was: that my father let my dog outside with no plans of letting her in.  We were gone for the night, so that gives him free reign to let my dog outside all night so he could relax in peace without her “bothering” him, right?

My father must have been in shock that my girlfriend said something to him because he did not reply.  My girlfriend and I just walked past my father and took our dog upstairs to dry her off.



Tension in the Air

One creepy evening, after spending some time in the basement watching TV,  my girlfriend and I thought my father had gone to sleep which was our cue to sneak back upstairs to where we stayed.

This night, however, we misjudged the silence and as I turned the corner from the basement stairs, I saw my father staring at us.  My girlfriend was walking in front of me and as soon as she got to the next set of stairs to go to our living area, my father asked if I could talk to him for a minute.  I was leery about what he could possibly want to talk to me about.

My father began to talk to me about how my girlfriend and I were making it uncomfortable for him in his own house.  He proceeded to talk about how we were making the entire living situation awkward and he did not think he could live like that.  He said something had to change  (I remember thinking, “yeah, you need to stop drinking!”).

He brought up the fact that we walk by him several times a day and ignore him, especially my girlfriend.  He even went as far to say that she was the one who was creating tension around the house and walks around like a “smug, arrogant b***h”.  I had to remind him, once again, that she does a lot for him and he is the one who creepily stares us down.

I told him that when he is drunk, he is creepy.  I said that the reason we do not talk to him is because he is drunk all the time and I did not want to talk to him when he was drunk and did not want my girlfriend to either.  My father just played it off like he did not know what I was talking about.

The Routine

My father dove right into his old routine, just as I suspected.  This time, I couldn’t stand to see the sight of him.  I tried to avoid him at all costs.  This time, his drinking was a lot more darker.  Since the day he returned from his third trip to rehab, his mood seemed more ominous.

He rarely talked, rarely moved from the couch and would only take his eyes off the TV when my girlfriend and I would walk past him.  When we would be around him, he would stare us down.  It was a nightmare.

While my father had a routine of drinking day in and day out, my girlfriend and I had a routine of our own.  We would only go downstairs when my father was sleeping – or when we did not smell the smoke from his cigarettes (that’s how we knew he was sleeping).  We would still prepare dinner and keep up with chores, but we would only clean the living room -where my father spent his days…and nights – when he would go to the store to get a fresh case.

The only time we would be around him was when we would make dinner.  After dinner, we would spend a good portion of our nights and weekends at my brothers house.

Things were getting worse and you could feel it in the air.

Same Old, Same Old

The car ride home was pretty awkward.  I knew I was taking my father back home so he could pick up right where he left off.  My father continued to talk about the people, how EVERYone else had problems, and he was not like them, he did not have problems….right.

As we got closer to the house, my father asked me if I could stop by the store so he can pick up a case of beer.  Really?

“Are you [insert expletive] serious?!?! You want me to stop and get you alcohol on the drive back from rehab??!” I said… Does he not remember everything that happened a few days ago and why I had to take him to the hospital?

I did not take him to the store, instead I pulled in the driveway and walked into the house.  My father ended up taking the car and driving himself to the liquor store to bring back a case of beer…pathetic!

I could not even look at my father any more.  Seeing him drink completely disgusted me.  About every half hour, I would hear the fresh “crack” of a new beer.  That night, he drank the entire case of beer he bought earlier that day.


Round Three Comes to An End

While my father was at rehab, I felt relieved.  However, I did not get my hopes up that he would come back and stay sober.  I knew the drill.  I knew he was not going to quit drinking, but at least I would get a few days of peace and quiet.

The day after I took my father to the hospital, my father had called me.  I was afraid he was going to tell me to come pick him up.  Instead, he was complaining about all the people in the  hospital and how he was not as messed up as they were.  He was angry that the doctors would not let him leave.

I was pleased that the doctor was not letting him come home yet even though I’m sure my dad was putting up a fight about it – he needed to get better and to realize he needs to stop drinking.  The calls continued for the next few days.  I just told my father that he needed to stay there and get help.

After 3 days of being in the hospital, my father called me and told me he has been released and he needs to be picked up.  That was short, I thought.  I was not surprised.  I also knew things would not go well once he came home, I knew he would go back to drinking every day, all day long.

My Father’s Third Trip to Rehab Part III

Not even fifteen minutes in the bed and my father started to talk about how he does not belong there and all the people around were completely “messed up”.  In particular, he was blatantly talking about the man in the bed next to him – who simply had a broken leg by the way – saying that this guy was “pitiful and disturbing”.

This raised my embarrassment even more as the man in the bed next to my father was completely awake and could hear and understand everything my father was saying.

The next doctor came into his room and explained that they need to keep my father for evaluation for a minimum of 48 hours, but said that he will probably keep my father longer.  FINALLY! Someone thinks he has a problem and is going to keep him here until he realizes he has a problem.

I said my goodbyes to my father and stepped out of the room with the doctor.  I told the doctor that my dad is seriously messed up.  I told the doctor that he drinks constantly and that my father will try to downplay his drinking.  I mentioned that he has been to rehab before and when he gets out he drinks twice as hard and to be careful with him.

As I walked out of the hospital, it felt like all the nurses and employees were looking at me.  It could have been my imagination, however, I knew that my embarrassment had come back.  I tried to push my embarrassment away by thinking about how relaxing it was going to be at home for at least 48 hours while my father was gone.

My Father’s Third Trip to Rehab Part II

As we arrived at the emergency room, it was pretty crowded and it looked like there was a bit of a wait.  This meant I had to sit in public with my father, in the state that he was in, for a while.

Actually, we did not sit because there were no open seats available.  I did not have a problem standing up against the wall, I just wished there was a seat available for my father who slowly started to slide down the wall, slowly.  He did not stop sliding either.  Slowly, but surely he ended up on the ground…not sitting on the ground, he was literally lying on the ground.

This was pretty much the most embarrassing moment of my life as my father was completely sprawled out on the floor in the emergency room.  To make things worse, a gentleman who appeared to have a severe drug addiction stood up and told me “this s*** is embarrassing, put that guy in a chair”.

So, I reached down and had to lift my immobile father off the ground and into the chair where he passed out until he was called to be seen by a doctor.  The doctor asked him a series of questions about why he was there and what happened.  My father replied “I drink too much and I need help”.

The doctor asked if he was willing to go through treatment and to do whatever is necessary to stop drinking.  My father said, “yes”.   The doctor proceeded to admit him, put him into a bed in the ER.

My Father’s Third Trip to Rehab Part I

One morning I had some errands to run with my girlfriend.  As we walked out of the house I had seen that my father was passed out on the couch in the living room as usual.  When our errands were nearly finished I got a phone call from my mother.  When I had answered the phone she sounded very upset.  She had told me that my father had called her and said that he was going to die and that he was sorry and goodbye.  Unsure of what was actually happening, she asked me to hurry back to the house and take him to the hospital.

I got in the car and hurried back to the house to check on him.  Even after what my mother had told me on the phone, I was not really prepared for what I was about to see.  I walked into the house and my father was in rare form.  He was right in the middle of what appeared to be him hitting rock bottom.

He was hunched over on the couch with his head in his hand.  His other trembling hand was holding what was probably his tenth cigarette in the hour and a half since we had left.  The thick smoke in the air was choking me and irritating my eyes.  The entire scene was disgusting.

He was crying and basically hysterical.  He was completely drunk.  This was the worst I had ever seen him.  It looked as if he had fallen again because the cut on his forehead was opened back up and there was a little fresh blood on his face, I also later found blood on the kitchen floor near the refrigerator.  Perhaps he fell on his way to get more booze.

He looked up at me from the couch and could barely speak.  He was crying pretty hard and slurring his speech just as bad.  He said that he felt like he was dying and he asked me to take him to the hospital.  He said that he was sorry for not being a better father and that “this was the end”.

I told him to get up and that I was going to take him to the hospital.

BIG Fall

My father was getting to the point where he would black out at any time and any place.  He would black out so often, I felt I had to walk past him every so often to check and see if he was still alive.

There was a time when my girlfriend and I were eating dinner in the basement, watching TV.  All of a sudden we heard a loud THUD on the ceiling above us.  That just so happened to be the floor of my father’s bedroom.  Disappointed, I went upstairs to check on him.  He was lying on the floor of his bedroom, knocked out.  I saw that he was breathing and figured I would check on him later on.  He obviously needed to sleep this one off.

Later on, when he woke up, I noticed he had a minor cut on his head.  He must have hit his head on the corner of the desk in his room but he did not seem to mind or care.  When I asked if he was ok, he acted like he did not know what I was talking about.  I just shook my head and walked out of the room.  I don’t think he will ever realize the panic and stress he put me through.