As promised, this post will talk about my absolutely fruit loop Auntie.
First however, it might be important to explain to any new readers that “Stories of a rather dull boy” is a true story about my life, it is also being kept in a roughly chronological order.
The story began at “The non blob, blog” where you can learn about my early years prior to any post on this blog.
If any of the posts confuse you or make references to previous events that you don’t understand or recognise then it’s your own fault for not being here at the beginning.....you could of course just read from Post 1 onwards....there’s not too many and if you don’t enjoy every one I offer a money back guarantee, just supply your full bank details in an email with your estimate of the time spent to read whichever post is deemed to be of insufficient loveliness and I’ll be sure to transfer the necessary funds....don't forget to include the 3 digit code on the back and details of a current standing order on your account.
Anyway....back to my mental Auntie (she’s the one who’s house I visited as a punishment for getting caught smoking pot in “dullboyblog goes live – Post 1”)...
She was a lovely person, a great mother, a doting wife and an all round good character. However, she was struck down with a cancerous brain tumour in her 40’s and underwent life saving surgery.
The surgery was so aggressive that it unintentionally left her in a coma for 3 months.
I visited her limp, lifeless body several times during these months only to watch machines pump liquid and air into her fragile casing. It was an awful site to behold, shaven head sporting a huge pinched scar, bloated limbs due to water retention and a bag of piss and shit hanging on the side of the bed.
Eventually to our surprise and relief she awoke, bleary eyed and confused as if a new born, although admittedly less noisy. Her muscles had deteriorated whilst in the coma and she couldn’t lift herself from the bed let alone contemplate walking. For several weeks she didn’t know who we were, that includes her own mother, sister and children.
After many months of rehabilitation she walked and talked at close to a normal level and the doctors began drip feeding reality back into her life. She returned home confused and lonely and proceeded to go slowly nuts.
No one can blame her fragile state of mind on anything other than the trauma that preceded it but her future actions certainly made some ripples throughout our relatively steady family life.
She once chased her daughter out of her own house after a petty argument, grabbing the nearest thing to swing at her, which happened to be one of those steering wheel security bars. My cousin, the daughter, ran along the street and clambered into her car for safety. My auntie continued the chase like a rabid beast and when realising she couldn’t open the door jumped onto the bonnet and attempted to smash her way in through the front windscreen.
It wasn’t long after this that she was committed for the first time.
I visited a tall, grey, secure building, somewhere obscure, within the outskirts of London. We were buzzed in after taking it in turns to show our face to camera so images could be stored in preparation for our memorials or the soon to be newspaper article concerning our demise at the fists of a gang of dangerous mental patients.
Whilst waiting for my Auntie to appear I suggested a game of pool with one of the other “clients”, my request was met with a unexplainably blank yet angry stare and a smidgen of full body twitching. I waited longer than I should for a response and eventually backed away fearing I may have just signed my own death certificate, or at the very least added an asterix so someone knew where to sign.
When my Auntie did arrive she had in tow a hulk of a man, at least 6’6” and as wide as a small outhouse built for disposing of human waste. He was introduced as her new boyfriend and had an amazingly soul searching glare that was intensely magnified by the thickest bottle top glasses I have ever seen. Seriously, I didn’t know you could hang that much glass on someone’s face without fear of causing serious neck injury!
Two weeks after this visit I received a phone call to say that my Auntie was in police holding cells, she and her bottle topped boyfriend had made their way to the roof of the secure hospital and despite efforts from Police helicopters would not come down. Eventually the escape was thwarted with delicate words and fast acting tranquilisers. She and the hulk were released from police custody under the mental health act and deposited in two different hospitals.
Eventually my Auntie was deemed fit for integration back into society and moved into her own home on the fringes of London. For several years I would endure heart wrenching phone calls as most of my family, including her mother and daughters, could not cope with the intricacies of her prescribed drug fuelled fantasies so I became the one she would call when she wanted attention.
She would often ring me on a Friday night to share her woes. Once she called to say goodbye, reporting that she had swallowed several packets of her favourite pills and was waiting for them to take effect. I wiped my tear stained face and immediately called my mother who in turn informed the police. We both lived miles away and felt helpless, the police arrived at my Aunties house, broke down the front door and found her sat in the front room doing a jigsaw and drinking tea.
Another similar scenario ...she rang me from the car explaining that she was drunk and had ingested too many anti depressants. Her plan was to drive into something hard or off of something high (she hadn’t decided which yet) and again was ringing to say good bye. This one ended in her being non contactable for several days and reappearing stating that she had just stayed with some friends for a while....what were we all worried about?
Eventually her attention seeking wore thin with all family members and most have now disowned her completely. I still take or make the occasional phone call and always send Birthday and Christmas cards but she seems to have succeeded in alienating everyone who loves her and has prescribed herself a lonely if not fantastically delusional route to the grave.
Eventually her attention seeking wore thin with all family members and most have now disowned her completely. I still take or make the occasional phone call and always send Birthday and Christmas cards but she seems to have succeeded in alienating everyone who loves her and has prescribed herself a lonely if not fantastically delusional route to the grave.
VERY intense stuff here, and you know how I can really relate to the progression of her illness. You're doing the right thing by letting her know that you're out there in her orbit.
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