Andy (The Book)

Chapter 5

Andy's mom continues to change her attitude towards us. She no longer says, "You can't do that" to everything we say!

Recently we'd been to Albuquerque to visit Andy's sister and her family. Her life could make another book. Realize, she is the only sibling Andy has that had the same two parents as him. She was raised by them when their grandparents took Andy into their home. That's why I know, that at some level his mom is aware of the abuse Andy suffered from his father, a pedophile that likes little boys. Otherwise, why would she have chosen to raise him and not *Lorie. She doesn't appear to dissociate, at least not to the same extent as Andy and it doesn't seem that she was sexually abused by her father. But she is very dysfunctional and obviously had a very hard life.

In the past, we'd refused to have anything to do with her as she appeared to use people in the same way as their biological mother, Susan. She has a history of substance abuse and years of homelessness. We've always, however, been concerned about her little boy, our nephew. I met them both once, when we visited Andy's biological mother, Susan, years ago. That was when Andy and I had first moved in together. It didn't take us long to learn that it was not a good thing for us to get involved with that part of the family. We felt used after that visit and Susan started calling us asking for things. We had to refuse her collect calls for months before she got the idea.

Then last Thanksgiving, his sister notified us through their grandmother, that she was doing well and wanted us to come for Thanksgiving. She was with a new man, who was treating her well, and she was getting the help she needed to get her life together. We went for Thanksgiving and it was wonderful. But it didn't last. Andy became friends with her new husband, *Rick, and we like him. But he has problems, too. He had trouble keeping a job and it became obvious that he was drinking. They ended up living with his parents and Lorie called, complaining about the way they were treating her. We tried to be supportive and encouraging, but there was little we could do to help.

Eventually, he stayed with a job long enough for them to qualify for a huge mortgage on a mobile home. Andy even went to Albuquerque to help them move into it. I couldn't go, because Lorie smokes cigarettes and last year I ended up in the hospital with an asthma attack. Andy said they seemed stressed and they fought a lot. We hoped that it would help, that they had a place of their own. Lorie's son, *Timmy, had become very attached to *Rick and was doing extremely well in school.

Lorie started calling more often. She begged Andy to come and help her. He visited a couple of times and it stressed him very much. And Andy stayed with them, when he went to see his cardiologist. But, their constant fighting was more then he could handle. Soon, her collect phone calls became more frequent and it was expensive. She wanted Andy to visit, but we couldn't afford unnecessary trips to Albuquerque. We started to screen our phone calls using the answer machine and we didn't call her back.

Then we decided to make a one day trip to Albuquerque so I could look for warm shoes in the bigger thrift stores. I'm impossible to fit, money was tight, but winter was on it's way. While there we stopped at their home to visit. We found Rick home alone. He was sleeping at 6 o'clock in the evening and Lorie was at the emergency room trying to see a doctor. She's had numerous health problems, typical of people who've been under a lot of stress and have a history of homelessness and drug abuse. Timmy was with her.

We went with Rick to pick them up. It became apparent that Rick was fed up with her "problems". She claimed that he was not only drinking, but now doing drugs and that he'd been abusing her. It did appear that she was trying. We encouraged her to take *Timmy and leave, if it got too bad. We told her that she could even stay with us, as long as she wasn't using and was willing to get therapy. She said she'd call if it got worse.

And she did. A week later, we made another trip to Albuquerque. We took Lorie and Timmy out for pizza and spent several hours with them. We tried to get her to go to a shelter for abused women, reminding her how the constant fighting must be effecting Timmy. She was skinnier then ever and so weak that we had to help her walk. At first, we thought her health was that bad. By the time the evening was over, it was apparent that she was unwilling to get help and set on destroying her life.

Andy and I both spent time alone with Timmy, while Lorie was at the other end of the house fighting with Rick. He is an extremely sweet and quiet child. It is unbelievable how together he appears despite what he's been through in his short nine years. I made sure that he had our phone number. I told him to keep it with him at all times and call us if he needed help. He was able to talk to us about his feelings in regard to the drug abuse he's seen in the adults around him. Our prayer is that he's been talking to his school counselor and his teacher. Timmy seemed most troubled by the change in Rick's attitude toward him, then anything. He seemed to need, very much, the closeness that he once had with his newest step-dad.

We left them as they were, and we prayed and worried. Andy's chest pains got worse again. I had many sleepless nights, trying to figure ways that we could help them without hurting ourselves. Lorie called, collect, almost continuously for days. At first we accepted the calls and tried to talk to her. Eventually, we accepted that she was likely using again herself. Andy and I talked about Timmy and the possibility that we could help him. Despite all our problems, no one could deny that we were best equipped to help someone like him. We'd been through it all ourselves.

One day, Andy's mom and I were talking on the phone. She brought up the subject of Lorie and Timmy. I told her how we gave him our phone number and we hoped that someday a social worker or school counselor will call us for him. I told her that he didn't have to end up like Lorie, he was still young enough to get the help he needed. I told her we could take care of him. She directed the conversation to the schools in town and the problems with the gangsters. I told her he'd go here (out of town) to the valley school if he was here now. If the schools in town weren't improved, by the time he was in high school, I could home school him. To my amazement, she then said, "maybe we could see about the school at Immaculate Conception (Catholic church)". Did this mean that she'd consider it possible that we could care for him?

We did eventually call Children, Youth and Families to express concern about Timmy. First I called. Then a few weeks later Andy called. We told them we'd be glad to care for Timmy, if they ever took him from Lorie.

While Andy's made a lot of changes, so has his mom. When I first went to Oakdale for a visit with Andy, she warned me never to argue with him. She said he was dangerous and we had to do what he wanted. She never turned her back on him and she kept all her windows locked, even in summer. She kept both the front door and the back door triple locked and she had locks also on her bedroom door. I, who always had trouble sleeping, needed somewhere to pace in the middle of the night. 

I craved fresh air, and wanted to open a door but she had the keys. It frightened me when I thought what would happen if there was a fire. I felt like a caged animal. The next two nights, Andy and I slept in a tent, locked outdoors in the yard. Eventually I managed to fix the screen to the window in his bedroom. We rearranged the furniture so we could reach the window from the inside. Then we found a fan and placed it on a dresser under the window. And every time we left the room, his mom would ask, "Did you lock that window back up?"

Gradually, after Andy and I had been together about 4 years, she began to open a few windows. She took the padlock off of her bedroom door, and even started leaving the front door open, locking only the screen door with a single hook during the day. For years she'd had plumbing and electrical problems but was afraid to let anyone in her house to fix anything. Finally, she hired a plumber to fix a few things.

It appeared that she hadn't thrown anything away for decades, at least since Andy's grandfather died. The house had always been so cluttered, one could barely walk through it. Andy and I began by taking out and throwing away all the old newspapers, magazines, broken toys, and old clothes from his room. We did it when she wasn't looking. He'd get her talking, in the front of the house, and I'd sneak them out the back door. There I'd drop them over the back fence. Later Andy and I would go for a walk, where we'd pick up the trash from the alley and take it to the dumpster.

For years, she never left us alone in her house. If she needed something from the store or the post office, she'd take us with her. Eventually, she took only Andy. We figured this meant that she trusted me, just not him. Eventually she began to leave Andy in the house, too.

She has a three bedroom house, a full basement, a room off the back porch, a large living room, a full garage and a storage shed. But she still didn't have room for all her things. She'd complain all the time, "if only I could win the lottery, I'd buy a bigger house". Andy didn't remember when he'd ever even been in the room off the porch, the garage, or the storage shed. She was the only one with keys to the padlocks on those places. We knew she had an extra freezer in the room off the porch and he said he heard there was a boat in the garage.

One day, when they went to the post office, I felt compelled to see what was in the third bedroom. It wasn't easy to even get the door open, because of the junk blocking it. I managed to get in, and that's when I found something disturbing. There were about a dozen vacuum cleaner bags, filled with dust, stacked against one wall. I took several and dropped them over the back fence, meanwhile pondering what they meant. I realized, if I took them all away, she'd notice. If she saved vacuum cleaner bags full of dirt, she had a real problem. I decided it would be best, if I left them alone. I didn't want to upset her, when she'd finally started to trust us. I told Andy about it, and he agreed.

I knew there must be a psychiatric diagnosis that would explain what she was doing. The locks on the windows and doors, were probably a result of Andy's alters that once tormented her. Saving everything was probably the result of his grandfather's death. She was not someone that you could talk to about these things. She'd come to accept that Andy was D.I.D. and not schizophrenic. But we didn't talk about how he became D.I.D. There was no way she'd accept that her son had sexually abused her grandson. She'd seemed willing to accept that Susan had neglected Andy as an infant, and we left it at that.

Then one night I saw a segment on a TV news program about a condition called hoarding. It's a type of obsessive-compulsive disorder. Some of the people identified in the program kept even spoiled food and couldn't wash their dishes. Andy's mom wasn't that bad. Her house was very clean, just extremely cluttered. Otherwise, the diagnosis fit perfectly. Andy and I talked about it, but realized we still had no idea what we could do about it.

Then Christmas, 1999, progress was made further. Mom and I were in the kitchen, doing the dishes together. That, in itself, was remarkable, as once she didn't let anyone in her kitchen. Gradually she let us get sodas from the fridge, then she let me make a sandwich. A few months before she'd let me cook my own breakfast and ever since then, I'd been doing some of the dishes. At last we were talking.

She told me she'd seen a program on TV, apparently a rerun of the news show I'd seen. I told her I'd seen it, and quite truthfully, that it reminded me of her. I put my arm around her as I said it, I didn't want her to think I meant it to hurt. She said, "I'm not that bad, though, am I?" I told her, "of course, not." Her house is always clean. But there would be so much more room, if she could part with some of the things she doesn't use. She agreed and we talked about some things she was going to throw away. She was going to clean off some shelves in her dining room so that she could move the stacks of papers and old magazines that were taking up half the table. And she was going to throw away the TV guides she'd collected for the last couple decades. Then last, she'd get someone to help her cart away the old broken TV sets from the living room. She also had bought a paper shredder and was going to put it to use to get rid of a bunch of old papers.

Andy and I encouraged her, and assured her we'd help anytime. She said, "no" she had to do it herself. We told her we'd let her decide what to get rid of, but please call us if she wants. We could help by carrying it to the dumpster. I told her, I'd help her paint her walls, if she got rid of enough things do so. That seemed to be something she'd like and she said she'd let us know.

We visited Oakdale a few weeks later and she'd forgotten her vow to get rid of things. It appeared she'd thrown away about 1/2 the old TV guides, but that was all. She was talking again about her need for a bigger house, and how she hoped she'd win the lottery so she could buy one.

The reason we went to Oakdale that Jan. was to try and talk to her about our money problems. We were hoping it would be practical for us to move up there for a few months to save some money. But since she'd made no real progress in throwing things away, it was obvious there'd be no room for us.

I've been homeless, I've been hungry and I've started over numerous times in my life. But it gets harder every time and with our health the way it is, I've been scared.

The only time that Andy and I made ends meet on our disability incomes alone, was when we were in Montezuma. The rent there was only $250 and for most of a year our car was parked, needing repairs we couldn't afford. We were lucky because, at that time, the town had a bus that came to the area 3 times/day. We also had far fewer medical bills at the time. We did a lot of walking and I didn't have any warm shoes, wearing rubber goulashes stuffed with house-slippers when I went to town. I wasn't diabetic then and we ate a lot of beans. Every year our expenses have gone up three times more then the cost of living increases in our disability checks.

Last summer, my mother said she could help us with a down payment and closing costs so we could get something decent with payments we could afford. We looked and found a used mobile home on 3 1/2 acres. Nothing fancy, just simple and decent. Then she said she couldn't after all. We really had our hopes up. She had a lot of money a few years ago. Money she got from the asbestos companies after Dad died. She said the last of the investments would be gone in 5 to 6 months. She'd been taking out $1000/month, sending us $300 of it. To me, that added up to $700 beyond her monthly income, that she felt she needed to live. Almost three times what I lived on.

A few months later, she admitted that she had two other investments that she hadn't even touched yet. I began to think she was playing with my mind, again. I'd put a lot of effort into forgetting the past, when she left me homeless and sick. I tried to let it slide, after all she had no obligation to help us. I was, after all, an adult. I just wished she'd never made the offer last summer and got our hopes up. And I certainly never wanted my mother to have to do without in order to help us.

Then in January she let me know she was mad because the Christmas letter I enclosed, with the few cards I sent, was too negative. Maybe I should never have written it, if I couldn't tell everyone we were healthy and doing well. I tend to be quite honest to people, though I did make a conscious effort to make it light, or so I thought.

My mother offered the same message she gave me when I lost my job in Roswell. Just change your thinking and all will be well. She truly believes that people are only poor or sick if they have no faith in God. "Just change your thinking and life will be perfect, health and prosperity are just a matter of faith."

She doesn't believe me, that I had that faith at one time, and look where it got me. Yes, I choose to be with Andy, but I don't choose because I want the stress, I want to be poor or I want to be sick. I choose because it's the right thing to help him, and anyone else that I see as less fortunate then me. Even if I didn't love him, I'd have to help in whatever way I could. She just couldn't understand. Besides, anyone with any brains would know that I'd never be able to afford a place to live on my meager $700/month. I can easily spend that much on medical expenses, alone!

Andy hadn't been to the Cafe in a few weeks, since one of the waitresses had made threat to Dennis, the owner, and Andy. Of course there was nothing to the threats, the other waitresses would agree. But Andy didn't want to be in the middle of that kind of controversy. It scared him because of his past. Dennis and he had become friends. But Andy seemed to be avoiding him, even though Dennis called and told Andy he had tickets for them to go to a wrestling match in Albuquerque. That was something I'd expect Andy to really enjoy. He said he talked to Dr. Lewis about it.

I finally received a call about a job interview. I played phone tag with the person calling me for two days then decided to make a trip to Santa Fe. I'd been through the listings at the employment office in Las Vegas when I was there to take the test for working the census. But they had no idea when they'd actually hire anyone for the census and there was nothing else in Las Vegas. All the appropriate jobs in that town were state jobs and the state will not hire part time.

I wanted to go to Santa Fe alone, but Andy insisted he had to come with me. He said he felt good and wanted to look for work, too. Besides, the children alters wanted to trade in video games at Soft-ware Etc. Larry had given them some of his old games to trade and it wouldn't cost anything. His argument made sense, even though I had a hard time shaking the thought that he still seemed afraid to let me go alone.

We spent several hours at the employment office, where I got one referral for a part-time professional position in the Santa Fe area. While waiting, I managed to contact the person who'd been calling me about the other job and set up an interview for that afternoon. I went to the interview and Andy waited.

It was an awake at night position working with disturbed Native American teens. They needed for me to check out the residences that I'd be working at, to be sure I'd want the job. They provided two weeks of training and wanted to be sure people they hired stayed for a while. We even discussed how to work the training around my sleep problems.

I told Andy that I was going to visit the residences, if he wanted to drop me off, he could use the car. The first group home had invited me to stay for supper with the day staff and the residents. He became upset, said he was having chest pains. He had to go home. I reminded him, that he knew I needed to work. I suggested he rest in the car or if the pains were that bad go to the hospital. He seemed agitated, but agreed to be back in an hour.

He came back only 20 minutes later. He came to the door of the residence and demanded I leave now, with him. He said they couldn't see him at the ER because the doctors were busy with drive-by shooting victims. And when the nurse asked the doctor from the walk-in clinic to see him, he refused. They told him he needed to go to Albuquerque to see his cardiologist.

I knew he was working himself into a heart attack because he was upset over me going to work. I asked if he had tried to see Dr. Lewis, his therapist, while he was at the hospital. He said, yes, but she was out of town and couldn't be reached. We had to go to Albuquerque.

I suggested he call to make sure *Dr. Gaines, his cardiologist could see him. We stopped at a payphone and he called. They told him that a lawsuit had been filed against Dr. Gaines and he was no longer in practice. If he wanted, he could see the other cardiologist in the office. But he didn't want to see the other doctor because he didn't like him. We parked in the parking lot of the mall and I got him into a reclining position in the passenger seat, where he had several mild heart attacks in a row.

Afterwards, he didn't want to try and go back to the hospital in Santa Fe, or on to an Albuquerque hospital. He wanted to just go home and rest in his own bed. So I drove him home and put him to bed, downstairs.

He had many milds that night and the next day. Then he tried to take a hot bath, to relax his muscles. I stayed with him, as I do when he gets bad, in case he went numb while in the tub. And he did. And this time he couldn't even hold his head up or balance himself to keep from falling. I held his head, because he was having a hard time breathing. He had several milds in a row, without me being able to get him out of the tub. Then he started having convulsions, while also numb. I held on as tight as I could, to keep him from hurting himself or going under water as he thrashed about. It was very scary. Finally I got him out of the tub and into bed. He had several more milds and more convulsions that night.

The next couple days, he gradually had fewer mild attacks, and no more convulsions. He called Dr. Lewis' office several times and eventually she was back in town. Her brother had died and she'd been at his funeral. By then, Andy felt a little better, so he gave her a few days to catch up on her in-patient clients. Then he went to talk to her.

Andy promised me he'd talk to Dr. Lewis about helping him find a place where he could stay while I worked. He had no answer, the first time I'd asked. A week later, he saw her again, and this time I sent a letter with him. I still couldn't work, without somewhere for Andy to stay. I did, however, convince *David to find work for me to do, in exchange for weekly massages. Or, so I thought.

Andy stayed home for only a few days, before he returned to playing pool. His team won in Las Vegas and would represent the town in the state APA tournament in Albuquerque. Playing pool did get his mind off the pain for a while. He was still considered a rookie, yet he'd beaten several of the pros. His teammates really wanted him to go. They told him he would share in $15,000 prize money and an all expense paid trip to the APA national tournament in Las Vegas, Nevada, if they won. Larry agreed and arranged to take time off to go with him, and they would stay with relatives of Joe.

It also turned out that the state APA tournament was the same weekend as the fight for which Dennis had bought tickets. Larry had a ticket for himself and they agreed to meet Dennis there.

The Spring APA leagues started, plus Andy and his teammates began to practice for the state tournament. He was gone every night again. At first, he'd be gone from about 7PM until 9PM. The nights got longer until one night he came home after 1:30AM.

Andy came in, all excited over a new pool stick that he had an opportunity to buy. Actually, it turned out, he'd already bought it. He just pretended to ask my permission, so I'd think him considerate. He knew I couldn't say no to him about things like that.

I'd done without so many things, because Andy needed a new video game, or video game system. After all, that's part of his therapy. He'd had two new winter jackets with sports logos, before I had one warm, plain jacket. He had hats for all his favorite football teams and a new train set with all kinds of accessories. He had, just about, every game imaginable for my computer when I still didn't have a printer or a complete word program for it. And he'd been telling me for years that it was because Jim or Dr. Lewis had told him to reward the children. How could I argue against that?!

And I'm the one who worries about money for rent and propane and basic utilities and food. And I'm the one who feels like crap, every day of my life, because I took money from my mother. And just that night, another relative had called to harass me about taking money from my mother, when everyone knows I should have a job like everyone else.

So, what do I say? I say nothing.

I can't deflate his happiness over money. I just can't. He says they're going to win the $15,000, and the new pool stick will make all the difference. He said he shot 6, 8-ball breaks (whatever they are) in a row with the new stick. If it had been during tournament games, instead of practice, it would have been a record. If they don't win the money and go to Las Vegas, NV, then they'll win in spring. All the other teammates are pros and all have been to national tournaments where they've won money.

Plus, Yolanda at the Ringside wants to hire him to work there where he can practice everyday, or so he says. (Doesn't happen.) Oh, yeah, and he saw his medical doctor at the hospital while in town. Andy stopped by when he knew his doctor would be checking on his patients in the hospital and they talked about the latest test results. The heart muscles are almost all healed and he will be able to work by summer and we can begin to have a real life. And Dr. Lewis said he could stay at the in-patient unit whenever I have to work. (But I don't find work and she leaves town.) He just hadn't told me because he was scared. But he's not scared anymore because Dr. Elliot told him he'll be okay.

Andy and I argue, but it's not alters and I, anymore. The following is a typical example. One night, Andy took a break from his video games and came downstairs to go outside and smoke. He's down to 3 cigarettes a day and hopes to quit anytime, but I heard that 6 years ago. Anyways, he stops in the doorway and says "That movie's 2 1/2 hours long". Of course I said, "which movie?" And that started an argument. Andy swore I knew which movie he was talking about and proceeded to tell me he'd told me everything, repeating about 4 sentences that I'd never heard. He accused me of not listening, and I accused him of expecting me to read his mind. But you know what? Couples have arguments like that, perfectly normal couples. I think I listened, but that the first 4 sentences he'd thought he'd said were only in his head. The point is, that 6 years ago, his mom would have sworn I'd be killed for speaking back to him that way. Now he can react like a normal person.

The night after he came home with the new pool stick, just one night before going to Albuquerque for the tournaments, we had a mild misunderstanding. I've been very anxious staying home and doing nothing, with Andy gone every night now. I knew he'd be gone and I'd be isolated here for the weekend without a car. It makes me very uncomfortable to know I'd have no way of going anywhere, especially should an emergency arise. I tried to explain this to him.

I'd taken Daisy, my dog, for a walk in the canyon just down the street this morning. But I still felt the need to get out more. I tried to get Andy to let me drive him to his teammate's house, where he was to practice at 2PM. Then, he could get a ride to the Ringside with him. I could pick him up anytime in the evening. I even suggested errands I thought I should run before he leaves me without a car, such as a trip to Walmart, or a dip in the hot springs during the day on a weekday when it wasn't too busy. He said he'd go to Walmart. I reminded him that I needed to use the printer at DVR, if by chance it was fixed by today. He suggested I could do it Monday just as easily.

I was just about to get mad, thinking he was trying to keep me home again. Then he told me, "I'm sorry. It's just that I have a fear of abandonment, if you just drop me off. I'd feel much safer if I have the car and don't have to rely on my teammates or you to get me, later."

I kissed him on the cheek, knowing some of the children must be integrated. And I told him, "Thank you. I appreciate you talking to me about it and being honest. I understand and it's okay. I'll be fine."