|Who needs a shrink? I'm totally fine. |
April 14, 2019
Yesterday was a long, mentally draining day. I don't know which shocked me more, the shape my cousin was in, or the conditions of his apartment. On our way to the city Mi lives in, Mel called his landlady to see if she could be let in if we couldn't find Mi in person. The landlady said Mi had been taken to the hospital via ambulance but couldn't remember exactly what day, and didn't know what hospital. Got lucky and found him at the first place Mel checked, he's in for pancreatitis he said. When we walked through the door to his hospital room, I'm sure the shock registered on my face when I saw him. Bri was under 120 lbs when Mel had seen him a few months ago. Mi, might be 130,, big MIGHT there. He looked like a 75-80 year old man laying there, he's actually 50. He has to have a walker to get back and forth to the bathroom, he has no strength because he never ate, only drank alcohol. His phone was out of minutes, Mel n I started out on what should have been a simple mission to get him some. He gave us the wrong info to get into his account at the phone store, it took them over an hour to figure out what the real info was. Then after they got it figured out, there were still multiple hoops to jump through. Long story short,, She said fuck this and just got him a new phone. Back at the hospital, we're trying to piece together things. His wallet is missing, he said he laid it on the table next to the couch and when he woke up the door to the apartment was open and the wallet was gone. The landlady confirms that when she saw Mi on Wed, he was clean and sober, she said she was shocked at how well he looked. He was missing the wallet then, she said he didn't have the gash on his head then. Mi said he got the gash at Wal-Mart, but can't remember much about that. He called 911 to come get him Thursday evening.
When we left the hospital, Mel talked to the landlady about getting into his apartment to see if we could find the missing wallet. When we walked in, the smell of piss immediately hit us. In the end days, Bri wasn't able to get up to walk to the bathroom, he was peeing in Gatorade jugs which were still sitting there in the living room. There was a couch, 2 makeshift tables at each end. Across the living room from the couch was a glass top desk/table holding a small TV. As for furniture,, that was it. No beds, no dressers, no kitchen table/chairs, no decorations. The 2 bedrooms weren't used, they were still in pretty decent shape. And the sad thing is, between the 2 of them, they had more than enough money coming in to make that place livable. The bathroom, kitchen and living room were completely disgusting. The landlady said she had told them in March to clean the place up, said she checked it right after that and it was much better. So what we saw, happened since March. I've seen a lot of places that shocked me. I've never had any scar my brain like this has because it's my FAMILY living like that. Bri laid on the floor of that nasty apartment in his own filth for 3 days before Mi figured out he was dead. And now Mi has shut down mentally, the Dr asked him if there was anyone at home to help him when he gets out, Mi told him, "Yea, My brother Bri." He doesn't remember his brother is dead.
When I was really young, 4 yo, I'm guessing. No older than 5, I'm sure. I had this small box someone had gotten a necklace in once upon a time. I had my favorite small treasures in it; pretty rocks, small trinkets, stuff only a little girl finds interesting. It was the summer, Mi and Bri were in IL with their Ma visiting family. The rest of the family was outside, I don't know why we happened to be inside, I don't remember all that. I do remember Mi, taking that little box of junk and putting it down his shorts and telling me if I ever wanted it back, I'd have to get it back myself. I knew what he was trying to do was wrong, but at that age, I was totally convinced that he was telling the truth and I'd never see my pretties again if I didn't reach down his pants for them. I got the box back, but that wasn't enough for him. He took it away again, this time shoved it even farther down. I remember Bri, standing in the kitchen doorway saying, "Come on, Mi. You're going to get us in trouble." At that Mi grabbed my hand, shoved it down his shorts. He was old enough that I felt the coarse hair, had to feel around to find the box. I was mad/humiliated/frustrated/scared. Someone came into the house, saved me from anything further. That was the first time I ever touched a penis.
And I can't seem to smoke enough pot today to erase any of this from my brain.