“I know,” I said plaintively as I thought of the paltry $11,000 dollars a year I live on.
We had gotten on the subject of lawyers and the ease with which my father will pay for and use them. My recent debacle with a credit card company was easily thwarted by my father’s lawyer. They wanted third party arbitration. In the fine print of the agreement, you had thirty days to write and request a judge to decide and forego arbitration. I would have never known this without the help of my father’s lawyer. The credit card company dismissed the supposed $278 dollars I owed them on a card I never used. It would have been far more costly for them to go to court. Without my father’s money, I would have never been able to afford a lawyer. I would have owed that company the money and they could have easily garnished my monthly check for the amount.
“Hindsight is 20/20,” I told my father speaking of my rash decision in applying for that credit card. “I will never do that again.”
“Well, I now have power of attorney over you and can handle all those things,” He replied. “You didn’t mean any harm.”
Nothing has worried me more (paranoia) than this whole power of attorney thing. I am doing okay at the moment, but I never know what tomorrow may bring as far as my mental illness is concerned. My father could easily have me locked away in some psychiatric hospital now if things turned for the worse. I am placing, in his trust, my very future and life.
“Promise me you will only do what is best for me,” I said with great affliction in my voice.
“What did I do for your brother and sister?” He asked.
“You saw them through medical school and told them what do,” I replied.
“I am telling you now to take your medications and to never drink again and you will be okay,” He said sternly. “I will see about you.”
I hung up the phone after saying goodbye and sat in the deepest of thoughts. It is still just damn scary. Addictions are so unpredictable. My father is a rabid teetotaler.
One day at a time, I thought as I sat there scared. At least I am no longer homeless.
My thoughts were of little consolation.