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screensaver400
Veteran Member
 
Join Date: Jan 2005
 
2008-10-21, 13:55

Quote:
Originally Posted by Moogs View Post
I haven't seen the other thread so apologies if you already described him there...
Nah. I just mentioned his death in passing.

Basically, he was a good father for my first 8 or 9 years of life. He did things like dress as Santa Claus for Christmas parties, take me to stock car races, and help me build my pinewood derby car.

However, he always had substance abuse issues. He started drinking alcohol when he was 12 or 13, at family parties and the like. I think his maturity level kind of stuck at that point when he was sober.

When he was drinking, he was friendly, outgoing, and fun to be around. When he wasn't, he was downright awkward. He was never physically abusive or anything, but he and my mother did argue.

Around the time I was 8 or 9, he started having trouble with drugs. The big issue was prescription painkillers, but he did meth on a few occasions. He had a "shoulder injury" (who knows how bad it really was), which required more painkillers. He eventually got blacklisted by the pharmacies in the area, and would go to Mexico to purchase the medication.

When I was 10 or so, my parents divorced. My mother was hoping to get him to turn his life around. He never did.

He lived with his parents for a while, not working. He continued with the painkillers. Around the time I was 14, they put him in a rehabilitation program. He got out, and moved into a group home with other addicts. He eventually moved into his own apartment. Things were going okay, but he wasn't working regularly, and his parents were mostly supporting him. He did have painkillers, but we weren't sure if he was using them properly or not

My sister and I saw him on and off during this period. He was never a fixture in our lives. He was never someone we could depend on. When I was 17, he was involved in a single vehicle collision just before Christmas. I'll always believe that it was either a suicide attempt, or an attempt to injure himself in order to get painkillers.

He's been in the hospital ever since. He had all the painkillers he wanted. He was shuffled from facility to facility, from hospital to convalescent home to hospital. He never seemed to be making any serious effort at rehabilitation. He would start to get a little better when his parents got fed up, and then would go back to his old ways. He's a classic manipulator, able to persuade his parents to purchase him all sorts of things. There are boxes and boxes of DVD movies, a laptop computer, a high-end cell phone, and various other items they purchased for him. They would bring him snack foods, all sorts of stuff. He was able to just stay in bed all day, with IV painkillers streaming into his system, living the high life.

This lasted nearly three years, during which neither myself nor my sister saw him.

However, it can't last forever. He eventually got an infection in various parts of his body. It probably has something to do with living such a sedentary lifestyle in a hospital, with those "superbugs," though I'm not sure. His liver and kidneys failed, and he passed away last Tuesday. The last time I talked to him was December of 2005.

What I've learned from his life... I don't smoke. I don't drink, not even a sip. I definitely don't do drugs. I never will. I have a strong work ethic. I hate staying at home, even on the weekends. I have a strong sense of morality, of right and wrong.

So anyway... That's the Cliff's Notes, but it should give you some idea.

Last edited by screensaver400 : 2008-10-21 at 14:22.
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