This is an absolutely true story Book Index
(click on video to turn off music)
After leaving the Nut Hut clean and sparkly…drug free, I proceeded to go to my pain doc and pick up a new script for Fentanyl. Mel convinced me I would always be in need of pain meds and if I wait too long to go back to my doctor, chances were, he wouldn’t help me any longer.
We also decided to move from Spring. Devon had started college at Drake in Iowa and there no longer was a need for the 30 minute drive to work (or longer depending upon traffic).
Mel was heavy into zip codes. She was determined to live in West University. Way out of our pay scale, unless you rent a tear down and that is exactly what we did. It was down the street from her friend Dr. Susan whom she now worked with at the VA.
The house…the house…sigh****. It had a crack so big in the dining room you could throw a cat through it. I measured the floor plan and it was an entire foot off from one end to the other. The house was expanding out from the top. About to topple any day.
And the train ran by right outside our back door. The train that carried to his ninth murder down the street from us.
Yes, we had that coveted West University address. The house smelled of cockroaches and death. And it was maybe 800 square feet. And now we had a delightful historic story to tell of the now infamous railroad murderer not even finding us good enough to kill.
It had no closets for my three closet wardrobe. So Mel went to a K-Mart that was closing and purchased some cloths racks to put in the spare bedroom.
Bootsie, who seemed to be doing fine health wise couldn’t wait to visit when Mel wasn’t there. She too was rather superficial; when it came to addresses and was curious. She laughed her ass of once she got there. She walked through Mel's new kingdom, like a prissy overlord, running her fingers along the staggered chair rails, flipping the light switches and finally making it back to the bedroom with the famous four poster bed that she had come to secretly claim as her own.
“Typical Mel, she’s move you into a 1960 RV if it had the right address.
Dr. Susan living down the street was a convenience to Mel as well. And we were a convenience to Dr. Susan.
Mel could show off her goodwill by volunteering me to do favors for her. Decorating, babysitting, and cooking. Of course Mel did nothing to help, she just got the credit. And there was some kind of interpersonal war between Dr. Susan and Mel’s friend Chris, a scrub nurse. Mel played them against each other so well.
And then there was ME. Ever loyal lover of Mel. I always found Mel to be above reproach. Love has that ignorant lack of insight,
For instance; When Dr. Susan complained that Mel missed too much work and didn’t do her job (something Mel herself complained the blacks did), I was incensed and ran right home to tell Mel. Mel was angry of course, she in turn had some diatribe about Susan never doing her job and reading magazines while patients were “under”.
Dr. Susan was an anesthesiologist. Of course, it was up to me to drive the point home. Mel counted on this. I gave Dr. Susan a cold shoulder for a bit, but then she needed a favor and of course Mel could never say no.
Dr. Susan had two boys who were horribly misbehaved. Mel could not stand going to her house so, of course, again, sent me.
Once while we both were visiting, Dr. Susan was giving me shots in my neck for neck pain, one of her boys, the 12 year old, literally threatened to punch her. His own mother. It was disgusting. Mel grabbed her things and said we were leaving and that was that. We never went back again.
Susan wasn’t good for returning favors. We barely asked. But the one time we did, we needed a ride to the airport; Dr. Susan agreed to take us. At the very very VERY last minute she called and said her son didn’t want her to take us because he would be too tired.
It was always Mels friends who used us and my friends who Mel used,
So we called one of my friends, the friends who ask NOTHING of us, but do for us all the time, and this day it was Bobby. He took us. With an hours’ notice.
“Why can’t my friends be like yours?” Mel would ask.
The operative word here: friend. Because my friends are just that, friends.
I really needed change. I was going to die if I didn’t. I worked my butt off and I did it while under the influence. I truly felt if we moved far away, the medication situation would change as well and my life would have some meaning.
And the heat, this greenhouse effect is making it more and more intolerable. You may think a half of degree here and there would make no difference, but you are wrong.
And Mel was all to happy to oblige. It seemed that Bootsie was never very far from her mind and would always be a threat. Her friends were not as important to her as mine were, but mine would never stop being there just because of distance.
The kind of work I was in was very male endorsed. Few females in leadership in the engineering industry. And they were all very chauvinistic.
And both of us were through with the homophobia. It still is illegal in Texas to be gay. So they can and will fire you for it. Mel and I both had our experiences.
Finally Houston was wall to wall people with more cement than grass, more cars than people. I needed some space.
Mel said that New England was very gay friendly and that perhaps I could even get on her health plan. YEAH!!! She shopped the north VA administrations for a position and was welcomed at the VA in Vermont. White River Junction. Which made our living venue New Hampshire, Vermont's sister state.
New Hampshire is nothing but crackheads and quilters. Ok, that was a joke. But truthfully, they have the highest amount of crackdens per capita.
So we packed everything we had and made the 1600+ miles north. I was euphoric.
By the way IISTG means If It Seems Too Good to be True