The Most Dangerous Animal?

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I love Jack Hanna's Wild Countdown on Saturday mornings. It reminds me a lot of the old Marlin Perkins Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom when I was growing up: educational and sometimes fun looks at the zoological world. I'm sure that, among zoologists, there's debates on what constitutes the "most dangerous animal" out there. The "small but deadly" insects? The ferocious "big cats" that can outrun their prey and tear them to shreds? Not for me. No, to me the most dangerous animal is family. There's a line in a Gerry Rafferty song that says, "We love and hate the ones we need the most." Maybe family members feel they can be "brutally honest" with others so they take the "filters" they'd use with friends, co-workers, or strangers away. More likely, in my case anyway, they just spew out venom without knowing the truth. My aunt (aunt #2, to avoid confusion) ripped me a new rectum because she thinks I don't care about my "incarcerated" aunt (aunt #1) -- the one in a nursing home. I personally feel Aunt #1 doesn't belong in there. She went in to "rehab," and nothing has been done to accomplish that goal. I feel they're not encouraging her or helping her, just so they can collect her money. Yes, my aunt is stubborn. I'm pretty sure our surname is from the Germanic root meaning "hard-headed." She has been refusing treatment (which doesn't look good when the insurance companies ask for the doctors' notes). I feel that she needs to be encouraged to get back into her rehab program so she can leave. That encompasses both positive ("we want you home") and negative ("if the insurance company sees you're refusing treatment they won't pay") aspects. And why not? If you love someone you tell them the truth. You don't sugarcoat it. Aunt #1 is old (she'll be 90 soon) and most of her family and friends have died. She's in pain all the time, and she's depressed (not "I didn't get chocolate cake for dinner," but the real, clinical definition). But aunt #2 thinks I don't know or care about that. "In fact," aunt #2 told me in our last phone conversation, "I don't think you care about anything." I'm the sole heir in aunt #1's will. If I didn't care I'd say "let her die" so I could get the house and the money. But I do care. I want her to find a reason to get up in the morning. As someone who suffers from depression (and anyone who has depression knows the word suffer is most accurate), I know it's hard. I also have chronic illnesses and pains. There are days that I literally have to crawl out of bed because of my back. Thankfully, those days aren't often, but when they are I'd rather just stay in bed. So I'm sorry if I'm not living up to my family's expectations of how I should feel and how I should react. But my aunt knows I've kept my promise that I made to my mom just before my mom died (I promised I'd take care of my aunt), and God knows. And in the end, that's all that matters. But dang, those family animals have sharp teeth and claws. Thanks for letting me vent. Here's a little R.E.M. with that great chorus of "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."