Sometimes, no matter how much we prepare ourselves for an upcoming event, it always comes as a surprise. Maybe not the event itself, but perhaps the realization that it is there is the real surprise. It could be the force of the impact when we know another car is going to hit you. Or it could be the loudness of the thunder when we know a storm is coming. No matter how much we prepare, no matter how knowledgeable, there is always that sudden realization – OH!! It’s here! It’s now!
My mother was an avid gardener. I wish I had her green thumb ability to make any plant spring to life from the earth surrounding it. For several years in a row, she turned a quarter-acre area of the yard into a vegetable garden. She would can and freeze the produce and advertise in the local paper to sell her home-grown goodies.
One spring, Carrot decided she wanted to get in on the action. She would help my mother with the gardening and they would share the fruits of their labor. It was a good partnership with a mother and daughter-in-law bonding over weed pulling and watering. Mom was an expert while Carrot was a garden virgin. It was OK because Mom was an excellent teacher.
My brother tilled the area and formed the rows for the hills of seedlings. It was early the next morning and both Mom and Carrot were ready to work in the dirt. There were several very large bags of what appeared to be potting soil along the perimeter of the garden area. Mom explained that they had to work small amount of the contents in bag into the soil.
Carrot asked, “What’s in the bag?” Mom replied that it was manure fertilizer as she handed Carrot a pair of gardening gloves. “Oh I think I can just use my hands, it won’t kill me, right?” Carrot responded. Mom said that NO, it wouldn’t kill her, but she would probably really rather have the gloves. “That’s OK,” Carrot insisted, “I CAN handle it.” Well… it really was Carrot’s decision.
Mom tore open the first bag. Carrot watched as Mom put both hands into the bag and pulled out the dark stuff, dropped some along the row and then worked it into the soil with her hands. The dirt fell through her fingers and fell back on top of the row. It seemed simple enough to Carrot so she put her hands into the bag as she had seen Mom do and walked over to the row where it was to be deposited.
Suddenly the realization hit her. Carrot’s eyes widen in horror. She stopped dead in her tracks. Her terrified eyes shot to my mother as she screamed out, “THIS IS SHIT!!!! That’s a bag of SHIT!!!” Carrot dropped the handful of manure and sped off to wash her hands. My mother broke into spasms of laughter so hard that she fell onto the ground and rolled back and forth as she peed her pants.
Carrot returned, put on the gloves and the two of them chuckled over the incident each time they put more of the manure into the rows. “I told you it was manure,” Mom said to Carrot. “But you didn’t tell me it was shit!” Carrot responded. Then they laughed some more.
The true contents of a bag of fertilizer/manure are well known to Carrot. She knows what constitutes manure. But, for some reason she did not connect the two in her head. She knew she was about to put her hands into a bag of manure, but didn’t realize it was a bag of shit. Even though she had the knowledge, she was surprised by the reality of it all.
I have written so often that I know what is ahead in the midst of the caretaking of an end-stage alcoholic. But, I’m wondering if when it comes right down to it, am I as ready as I think I am? I have the knowledge. I know what the reality is or what I imagine it will be. But, as the days approach, will I be shocked by the loudness of the storm’s thunder or the strength of the impact from an on-coming vehicle? Have I realized that manure is really just a bag of shit?
Riley goes on each day as though nothing is different from the one before. He knows there’s a bag of something off in the distance. I don’t think he knows that it’s manure and would probably not equate that to being shit. He sees no end. He thinks nothing has changed.
I see the bag too. For me there are two elements inside – fertilizer and shit. The shit is the reality when he is walking out the door of life and I’m witnessing the departure. The pain of watching a life end via a slow suicide may be too much for me to stay in the room as it happens. It will be a true test of my faith that God has made the choice for Riley and not really Riley himself.
The fertilizer is the part that sets me free to grow and continue on in a life that has taken a new direction for me. It will help me laugh and sleep and take better care of myself. Just like the little seedlings sprouting from the rows in the garden, I will stretch up and produce something that is, not just healthy for myself, but hopefully for many others.
The truth is that the process has already begun. My fertilizer has been all my followers, commenters and members of the OARS group. I’m not sure I could have even made it to the garden if it had not for them.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Abandoning the abandoner...
Yesterday I commented on a comment to my “Run for the Hills” post. I was hasty. I should have waited for the commenters words to trickle down before I wrote what I did. I won’t take it back. It’ll stay as a comment to a comment. But, I think there is some ‘splain’ to do.
Let’s break this down:
ABANDONMENT versus RUNNING AWAY
In my opinion, I cannot abandon someone who doesn’t want me around. That’s not abandonment; instead it’s granting them what they want. How many times have I heard Riley say “Just leave me alone?” If I walk away when he says that, am I abandoning him? I don’t think so. Recently I have been giving him what he has so vehemently desired – to be left alone to drink himself to death in the manner of his own choosing.
The hard truth is that I abandoned Riley more than 15 years ago when I walked out the door after he abandoned me and his children many times over the years. He would disappear for days or sometimes weeks, no phone calls, no note – just gone. It didn’t matter if our family was in crisis or some other life changing event was taking place with the children – I could never depend on him to be there. There always had to be a ‘Plan B’ in case he didn’t show up for an event that required his presence. As the kids got older, we stopped planning on having him around for Thanksgiving dinners or family vacations. Our Plan B changed to one of if he DID show up rather than he didn’t. Riley has a history of being the abandoner rather than the abandonee. This is not just my opinion; it is a hard and true, honest to goodness fact.
In research I’ve done and through the OARS group, I have learned that abandonment is a huge issue for the caretakers of end-stage alcoholics. Throughout the years of drinking that leads up to end-stage, the alcoholic abandons the people who love them many times and in many ways. The alcoholic will become self-centered and being with loved ones drops off the priority list. Their personalities morph into someone we would not want inside our homes. By virtue of continuing to drink, the alcoholics abandon everyone around them in favor of a liquid mistress – alcohol. It may not be that way for ALL, but it is for MOST.
And what does constitute abandonment anyway? If I go away overnight to visit my grandbabies, is that abandonment? Do I abandon Riley every time I go to run errands and do grocery shopping which leaves him alone for about four hours during the day? Is it abandonment if I go to the mountains to recharge my batteries and renew my strength so that I can remain sane in the midst of this insanity? I don’t think so. When I take that time away from Riley, I am far more able to deal with his nonsense when I return. Doesn’t that benefit him?
Riley is at death’s door. Hospice will be here today to see how they can provide assistance over the next six months while we wait for nature to take its course. The biggest downfall to being a caretaker is that the act of taking care of the dying person is extremely stressful resulting in stress related illnesses. That’s why it is important for caretakers to take that little break and run away from all the chaos for a short time. In fact, hospice often promotes these breaks and offers a means to make them happen.
I do not feel guilty about planning a retreat or going to DC for the NIAA meeting in June. I do not feel guilty about going to visit my grandbabies. I do not feel guilty about wanting to have a life of my own even when Riley’s life is ending. Over the years, Riley has been told by everyone who ever knew him, that he will die a lonely old man with no one to hold his hand in his final moments if he did not change his ways. Riley didn’t change his ways. If he dies while I’m temporarily “running away” the prophecy will become fact.
I have compassion for the people who are in difficult situations in all walks of life. My two favorite charities are related to Duchene Muscular Dystrophy and Autism. But to ask me to have compassion for someone who only feels an emotional bond out of necessity is more than I have to give. I have shown far more compassion by providing Riley a soft, safe place to die than I would have shown if he had been left to die somewhere in a San Francisco Bay Area gutter. This Riley is not the man that I would lay down my life for as he was in a previous life. That loving generous man is gone and I’m left with a shell of a man devoid of emotion or empathy. I confess it’s damn hard for me to muster up any compassion for his situation.
We all come into the world by ourselves – unless we have a twin or triple or whatever – even then the trip down that birth canal only has room for one at a time. So we come in alone and we go out alone. No matter who is in the room, they are not going to accompany us into the afterlife. If we believe in God and Heaven, there will be ones who have gone before us waiting to ease us into the other side. It is not a place for us mere mortals. The only thing I can do in this life is watch him as his life ends. As Riley slips off, will I tell him I love him and will miss him when I know I won’t? You won’t hear those words coming from my lips. Riley lost that comfort when he stopped caring what anyone else feels.
Dr. White warned me that I might not be able to see it through when Riley is in the process of actually dying. He told me it is not a pretty sight. In fact, it could be quite disturbing. If Riley simply closes his eyes and drifts off, like my son did, his death will be a gentle passing. It is what I pray for every day. On the other hand, Riley could go into a seizure, bleed out and his passing will be extremely painful and the natural instinct in me will want to save him. It’s not a pleasant thing to watch and that’s another way that hospice can step in. If he goes via the route of horror, they can take over for me. In either event, Riley will probably not even know if I’m in the room. If Riley passes while I’m on a retreat, to me it is God’s way of saving me from the pain of watching another human die. God will take him when God is ready. I see no value in the cessation of my life while I wait for Riley’s to end.
The question has come up -- Are my posts real? Is my blog real? I am just a human trying to make sense of insanity. Everything I write in the blog is absolutely real in my life. I write about how I see things and my opinions. I write about my experiences in my entire life. I do not use my real name out of respect for other family members who have asked me to remain anonymous. If it were not for them – I would even use my real identity. If it seems that I vacillate from one idea to another, it is because as humans’ our opinions, ideas, and situations change. That’s the way life is. That’s the way I am.
However, there is more to my life than just what I put into the blog. There are parts of my life that you will never see here and maybe those parts would explain a lot for my readers. But they are in my book, The Immortal Alcoholic’s Wife. The book is completely written, except for the ending chapter. I’m struggling with that because I don’t know if it should end with Riley’s death or while waiting for his death. But, the book will show how I was groomed from childhood to be a caretaker. It details the romance between Riley and I which began my journey in Riley World. It explains how I learned what I have learned about alcoholism and shows the progress of Riley’s decline. It’s all there. I’m ready to bare my life to the world. I just have to get an ending.
A friend told me I was procrastinating. She says that the end doesn’t have to be with Riley’s death. She says that if I finish the book and publish it that I might feel there was no longer a need for the blog. She thinks that deep down, I don’t want to stop the blog and so I hesitate on publishing the book. I don’t know if she is right – but right now I have a need to keep reaching out and helping others. It’s what helps me make sense of the insanity. The blog will continue.
Let’s break this down:
ABANDONMENT versus RUNNING AWAY
In my opinion, I cannot abandon someone who doesn’t want me around. That’s not abandonment; instead it’s granting them what they want. How many times have I heard Riley say “Just leave me alone?” If I walk away when he says that, am I abandoning him? I don’t think so. Recently I have been giving him what he has so vehemently desired – to be left alone to drink himself to death in the manner of his own choosing.
The hard truth is that I abandoned Riley more than 15 years ago when I walked out the door after he abandoned me and his children many times over the years. He would disappear for days or sometimes weeks, no phone calls, no note – just gone. It didn’t matter if our family was in crisis or some other life changing event was taking place with the children – I could never depend on him to be there. There always had to be a ‘Plan B’ in case he didn’t show up for an event that required his presence. As the kids got older, we stopped planning on having him around for Thanksgiving dinners or family vacations. Our Plan B changed to one of if he DID show up rather than he didn’t. Riley has a history of being the abandoner rather than the abandonee. This is not just my opinion; it is a hard and true, honest to goodness fact.
In research I’ve done and through the OARS group, I have learned that abandonment is a huge issue for the caretakers of end-stage alcoholics. Throughout the years of drinking that leads up to end-stage, the alcoholic abandons the people who love them many times and in many ways. The alcoholic will become self-centered and being with loved ones drops off the priority list. Their personalities morph into someone we would not want inside our homes. By virtue of continuing to drink, the alcoholics abandon everyone around them in favor of a liquid mistress – alcohol. It may not be that way for ALL, but it is for MOST.
And what does constitute abandonment anyway? If I go away overnight to visit my grandbabies, is that abandonment? Do I abandon Riley every time I go to run errands and do grocery shopping which leaves him alone for about four hours during the day? Is it abandonment if I go to the mountains to recharge my batteries and renew my strength so that I can remain sane in the midst of this insanity? I don’t think so. When I take that time away from Riley, I am far more able to deal with his nonsense when I return. Doesn’t that benefit him?
Riley is at death’s door. Hospice will be here today to see how they can provide assistance over the next six months while we wait for nature to take its course. The biggest downfall to being a caretaker is that the act of taking care of the dying person is extremely stressful resulting in stress related illnesses. That’s why it is important for caretakers to take that little break and run away from all the chaos for a short time. In fact, hospice often promotes these breaks and offers a means to make them happen.
I do not feel guilty about planning a retreat or going to DC for the NIAA meeting in June. I do not feel guilty about going to visit my grandbabies. I do not feel guilty about wanting to have a life of my own even when Riley’s life is ending. Over the years, Riley has been told by everyone who ever knew him, that he will die a lonely old man with no one to hold his hand in his final moments if he did not change his ways. Riley didn’t change his ways. If he dies while I’m temporarily “running away” the prophecy will become fact.
I have compassion for the people who are in difficult situations in all walks of life. My two favorite charities are related to Duchene Muscular Dystrophy and Autism. But to ask me to have compassion for someone who only feels an emotional bond out of necessity is more than I have to give. I have shown far more compassion by providing Riley a soft, safe place to die than I would have shown if he had been left to die somewhere in a San Francisco Bay Area gutter. This Riley is not the man that I would lay down my life for as he was in a previous life. That loving generous man is gone and I’m left with a shell of a man devoid of emotion or empathy. I confess it’s damn hard for me to muster up any compassion for his situation.
We all come into the world by ourselves – unless we have a twin or triple or whatever – even then the trip down that birth canal only has room for one at a time. So we come in alone and we go out alone. No matter who is in the room, they are not going to accompany us into the afterlife. If we believe in God and Heaven, there will be ones who have gone before us waiting to ease us into the other side. It is not a place for us mere mortals. The only thing I can do in this life is watch him as his life ends. As Riley slips off, will I tell him I love him and will miss him when I know I won’t? You won’t hear those words coming from my lips. Riley lost that comfort when he stopped caring what anyone else feels.
Dr. White warned me that I might not be able to see it through when Riley is in the process of actually dying. He told me it is not a pretty sight. In fact, it could be quite disturbing. If Riley simply closes his eyes and drifts off, like my son did, his death will be a gentle passing. It is what I pray for every day. On the other hand, Riley could go into a seizure, bleed out and his passing will be extremely painful and the natural instinct in me will want to save him. It’s not a pleasant thing to watch and that’s another way that hospice can step in. If he goes via the route of horror, they can take over for me. In either event, Riley will probably not even know if I’m in the room. If Riley passes while I’m on a retreat, to me it is God’s way of saving me from the pain of watching another human die. God will take him when God is ready. I see no value in the cessation of my life while I wait for Riley’s to end.
The question has come up -- Are my posts real? Is my blog real? I am just a human trying to make sense of insanity. Everything I write in the blog is absolutely real in my life. I write about how I see things and my opinions. I write about my experiences in my entire life. I do not use my real name out of respect for other family members who have asked me to remain anonymous. If it were not for them – I would even use my real identity. If it seems that I vacillate from one idea to another, it is because as humans’ our opinions, ideas, and situations change. That’s the way life is. That’s the way I am.
However, there is more to my life than just what I put into the blog. There are parts of my life that you will never see here and maybe those parts would explain a lot for my readers. But they are in my book, The Immortal Alcoholic’s Wife. The book is completely written, except for the ending chapter. I’m struggling with that because I don’t know if it should end with Riley’s death or while waiting for his death. But, the book will show how I was groomed from childhood to be a caretaker. It details the romance between Riley and I which began my journey in Riley World. It explains how I learned what I have learned about alcoholism and shows the progress of Riley’s decline. It’s all there. I’m ready to bare my life to the world. I just have to get an ending.
A friend told me I was procrastinating. She says that the end doesn’t have to be with Riley’s death. She says that if I finish the book and publish it that I might feel there was no longer a need for the blog. She thinks that deep down, I don’t want to stop the blog and so I hesitate on publishing the book. I don’t know if she is right – but right now I have a need to keep reaching out and helping others. It’s what helps me make sense of the insanity. The blog will continue.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Head for the hills!
Last night, I dreamed I was on a tropical island basking in the sun while reading a book and sipping on one of those fruity drinks with a paper umbrella. Off in the distance was a huge green and white striped canopy tent. The mosquito netting hanging from the edge of the roof was gently swaying in the breeze. I was relaxed and the thought came to me that I was glad I had run away…
Wait!! Oh yeah!! This was just a dream. When I opened my eyes I was face to face with Jax. A timid “meow” was his way of telling me it was time to get up. I rolled over and closed my eyes again hoping to recapture that feeling of being in some faraway place. It didn’t happen. It was time to return to reality.
Everyone has their favorite “running away” fantasy. Mine would not be on a tropical island – but hey – that’s what my sleeping brain gave me at the time. I would prefer a secluded mountain cabin near a lake or creek. It would be fall so I could have the fireplace roaring with bright flames. It would be cool but not cold during the day so I could take walks amidst the falling leaves. I would have several books with me to read at my leisure. There would be hot cider and apples with cheese. That’s my fantasy runaway destination.
I remember when I was a very young girl – maybe six years old or so – I got angry with my parents and brothers for some misdeed that I felt was unforgivable. At six years old, that could have been anything from not getting the last piece of chocolate cake to having help with kitchen clean-up. It really doesn’t matter why I was angry, but I just was.
I had had all my six-year-old humiliation I could take. That was it. I was going to run away from home. I yelled the announcement to my Mom and asked her if I could use her suitcase. She told me I could have the case and then helped me pack a few vital items. Clean underwear, my toothbrush, my favorite doll, and some books all went into that case. I snatched it off my bed and headed out the door. My Mom, asked if she could have a kiss goodbye and I obliged.
Out the front door I went. I had no idea where I was going, but gosh darn it I had just had enough of living with mean people. I got to the corner where my street ended at the big truck-route highway. So which way should I go? Where would I go? I wondered what was for dinner that night or breakfast the next morning. I sat on my suitcase and thought about my next move. Then I picked up the suitcase, turned around and headed back home. When you’re six there truly is no place like home.
Riley runs away often. It has been his motis operandi for as long as I have known him. He has run away from every person he has ever loved from his parents to his children. It’s what he does. He has run away with almost every one of the women with whom he shared an affair. He has run way to and with friends and shipmates. He has also taken off to parts unknown as a lone adventure. He especially likes to run away when he is faced with a difficult decision or a decision he has made puts him into a position where he must take responsibility. I used to say he was the incredible disappearing man.
Not much has changed over the years. Riley is still running away. It is my understanding that for most alcoholics, the alcohol is a pain medication that helps them deal with something so painful in their past that they must anesthetize themselves. That in itself is running away. In Riley’s case he is about to take that ultimate runaway route. He’s running from something so pain that feels the only way out is death. I have no idea what is causing his pain. Many people, far more knowledgeable than I, have tried to figure it out and none have succeeded. Whatever it is, it is something he can’t be honest about in order to get past or over it.
We all run away at some point in our lives. If we don’t run away physically, we do it mentally. It’s that daydream that we escape to in the middle of a boring day. It’s the vacation with the family after a year of hard work. It’s being in the bathtub and asking Calgon to take us away. It’s when I write something fictional or when I write about some great, happy, memory from my past. It’s different things to different people. It’s a normal part of our existence as long as our entire life doesn’t center on the running away rather than reality.
I have a plan… yeah! Big surprise, right?!?... I’m about to run away. I’m going to find that mountain cabin and I’m going to spend a few days in solitary delight. Well… I won’t be alone. Instead I’ll be sharing the seclusion with members of the OARS F&F Group. It will be the first ever retreat for caretakers, family or friends of end-stage alcoholics. If this retreat goes well, it will be followed by others in different parts of the country.
Imagine that you’ve been dealing with a difficult end-stage alcoholic and had the opportunity to run away for just a couple of days. Just the idea of having people around you that have walked in your footsteps provides a sense of unity. I envision sitting down to eat at a table without worrying about what’s going to be said that will ignite a volatile response. I hear laughter as we relate scenarios that others would find horrific. When we are all piling in our cars to return to reality, I see phone numbers exchanged, hugs, tears and leaving with friendships secured in concrete by the similarities of our situations. Now that’s one super way to run away.
This inaugural retreat is being planned for the late August or early September. It will be either in the Smoky or Blue Ridge Mountains at the edge of the western border of North Carolina. Arrival will begin as early as Thursday and departure will be on either Sunday or Monday. I haven’t really thought about the agenda or even if there should be an agenda. This is, after all, a retreat from chaos and not a boot camp.
At this moment I’m not sure of what the cost might be, but I’m thinking it would be around $250 all inclusive. That’s not bad for four days of sleeping space, food, and great companionship. It would depend on how many people RSVP. I do think it would be good to set a limit as to how many people would be attending. Keeping the group small allows the development of more solid relationships. In my mind I’m thinking there should be no more than 20 attendees at any given retreat.
These retreats are only open to members of the OARS F&F Group. If you aren’t a member, join now so you can take advantage of this opportunity to run away. You must have a Facebook account in order to join. If you do not have a FB account you must create one. I have started building a separate website for OARS, but it is not up and running yet.
Riley came in and joined me as I was writing this post. He asked what I was writing about today. I told him it was about running away in a healthy manner. He asked me what I wanted to run away from. I told him I was running away from insanity. Then he looked at me with those quizzical big brown eyes in a sea of yellow and asked who was insane? I told him I was and that was why I wanted to run away. Occasionally, in the midst of all this, Riley says something profound… “You can’t run away from yourself.” He then left my office and as he was shuffling out the door, I wondered… when had he discovered that fact?
I can’t run away from myself. But I can retreat from things causing me pain so that I can recharge and renew which will in turn help me deal with the insanity that lives in my real world.
Wait!! Oh yeah!! This was just a dream. When I opened my eyes I was face to face with Jax. A timid “meow” was his way of telling me it was time to get up. I rolled over and closed my eyes again hoping to recapture that feeling of being in some faraway place. It didn’t happen. It was time to return to reality.
Everyone has their favorite “running away” fantasy. Mine would not be on a tropical island – but hey – that’s what my sleeping brain gave me at the time. I would prefer a secluded mountain cabin near a lake or creek. It would be fall so I could have the fireplace roaring with bright flames. It would be cool but not cold during the day so I could take walks amidst the falling leaves. I would have several books with me to read at my leisure. There would be hot cider and apples with cheese. That’s my fantasy runaway destination.
I remember when I was a very young girl – maybe six years old or so – I got angry with my parents and brothers for some misdeed that I felt was unforgivable. At six years old, that could have been anything from not getting the last piece of chocolate cake to having help with kitchen clean-up. It really doesn’t matter why I was angry, but I just was.
I had had all my six-year-old humiliation I could take. That was it. I was going to run away from home. I yelled the announcement to my Mom and asked her if I could use her suitcase. She told me I could have the case and then helped me pack a few vital items. Clean underwear, my toothbrush, my favorite doll, and some books all went into that case. I snatched it off my bed and headed out the door. My Mom, asked if she could have a kiss goodbye and I obliged.
Out the front door I went. I had no idea where I was going, but gosh darn it I had just had enough of living with mean people. I got to the corner where my street ended at the big truck-route highway. So which way should I go? Where would I go? I wondered what was for dinner that night or breakfast the next morning. I sat on my suitcase and thought about my next move. Then I picked up the suitcase, turned around and headed back home. When you’re six there truly is no place like home.
Riley runs away often. It has been his motis operandi for as long as I have known him. He has run away from every person he has ever loved from his parents to his children. It’s what he does. He has run away with almost every one of the women with whom he shared an affair. He has run way to and with friends and shipmates. He has also taken off to parts unknown as a lone adventure. He especially likes to run away when he is faced with a difficult decision or a decision he has made puts him into a position where he must take responsibility. I used to say he was the incredible disappearing man.
Not much has changed over the years. Riley is still running away. It is my understanding that for most alcoholics, the alcohol is a pain medication that helps them deal with something so painful in their past that they must anesthetize themselves. That in itself is running away. In Riley’s case he is about to take that ultimate runaway route. He’s running from something so pain that feels the only way out is death. I have no idea what is causing his pain. Many people, far more knowledgeable than I, have tried to figure it out and none have succeeded. Whatever it is, it is something he can’t be honest about in order to get past or over it.
We all run away at some point in our lives. If we don’t run away physically, we do it mentally. It’s that daydream that we escape to in the middle of a boring day. It’s the vacation with the family after a year of hard work. It’s being in the bathtub and asking Calgon to take us away. It’s when I write something fictional or when I write about some great, happy, memory from my past. It’s different things to different people. It’s a normal part of our existence as long as our entire life doesn’t center on the running away rather than reality.
I have a plan… yeah! Big surprise, right?!?... I’m about to run away. I’m going to find that mountain cabin and I’m going to spend a few days in solitary delight. Well… I won’t be alone. Instead I’ll be sharing the seclusion with members of the OARS F&F Group. It will be the first ever retreat for caretakers, family or friends of end-stage alcoholics. If this retreat goes well, it will be followed by others in different parts of the country.
Imagine that you’ve been dealing with a difficult end-stage alcoholic and had the opportunity to run away for just a couple of days. Just the idea of having people around you that have walked in your footsteps provides a sense of unity. I envision sitting down to eat at a table without worrying about what’s going to be said that will ignite a volatile response. I hear laughter as we relate scenarios that others would find horrific. When we are all piling in our cars to return to reality, I see phone numbers exchanged, hugs, tears and leaving with friendships secured in concrete by the similarities of our situations. Now that’s one super way to run away.
This inaugural retreat is being planned for the late August or early September. It will be either in the Smoky or Blue Ridge Mountains at the edge of the western border of North Carolina. Arrival will begin as early as Thursday and departure will be on either Sunday or Monday. I haven’t really thought about the agenda or even if there should be an agenda. This is, after all, a retreat from chaos and not a boot camp.
At this moment I’m not sure of what the cost might be, but I’m thinking it would be around $250 all inclusive. That’s not bad for four days of sleeping space, food, and great companionship. It would depend on how many people RSVP. I do think it would be good to set a limit as to how many people would be attending. Keeping the group small allows the development of more solid relationships. In my mind I’m thinking there should be no more than 20 attendees at any given retreat.
These retreats are only open to members of the OARS F&F Group. If you aren’t a member, join now so you can take advantage of this opportunity to run away. You must have a Facebook account in order to join. If you do not have a FB account you must create one. I have started building a separate website for OARS, but it is not up and running yet.
Riley came in and joined me as I was writing this post. He asked what I was writing about today. I told him it was about running away in a healthy manner. He asked me what I wanted to run away from. I told him I was running away from insanity. Then he looked at me with those quizzical big brown eyes in a sea of yellow and asked who was insane? I told him I was and that was why I wanted to run away. Occasionally, in the midst of all this, Riley says something profound… “You can’t run away from yourself.” He then left my office and as he was shuffling out the door, I wondered… when had he discovered that fact?
I can’t run away from myself. But I can retreat from things causing me pain so that I can recharge and renew which will in turn help me deal with the insanity that lives in my real world.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Detour in the road...
My resolve to let Riley be “left alone” has not waned. In fact, it grows stronger with each day. I’m sleeping better and feeling much more relaxed. The best part is I’m making plans again for several different events. Although I’m recognizing that I’m angry – still – I’m happy.
Here’s how it’s been going:
On Friday I made my declaration of independence and informed Riley that since he wanted to be left alone – he was now alone. I would not do anything for him anything to make him more comfortable or assist him in making his alcoholism easier for him. I will no longer cook his meals, do his laundry, or clean his spaces. I also will not make or take him to doctor appointments of any kind. The only thing I will do is buy his alcohol because I don’t want him on the road putting innocent people at harm. He has clearly stated that he just wants to be left alone to drink as much as he wants even if that means drinking himself to death. That’s what I will do for him – allow him to drink himself to death.
Since Friday, I’ve cooked only for myself. I made myself some lovely meals and enjoyed them very much. Riley has eaten a Hot Pocket and a portion of a frozen dinner. He watched me as I prepared my apricot stuffed pork chop, but didn’t ask if I was making enough for him. The answer would have been NO!
I have not cleaned his bathroom and his bath aide is refusing to come because she cannot be in a bathroom where feces is smeared on the wall or floors. His diaper pail is overflowing and the door jambs have handprints created from unwashed hands. The trail leads to his bedroom.
In the bedroom, he has knocked over a short bookcase and the contents are now on the floor. His sheets have not been changed and when you look in you can see the bodily function stains. Dirty clothes are scattered about his floor and the room reeks worse than a locker room after a big game. A spray of Febreeze isn’t going to do the trick.
All in all things are going rapidly downhill for Riley. He’s on the downward dip of the roller coaster and I doubt it will make it back to the top of the next peak. I did not buy a ticket and refuse to get onboard.
After a discussion with the visiting nurse, we have decided that there is nothing more she can offer him in a skilled nursing capacity. All she does is check his vitals and since his butt is healing, there’s nothing left to do. She has offered to find out if Hospice would be an option for him. But, basically, she is as done as I am.
While the nurse was there for her last visit, she told Riley that it seemed that I had given up on him. Since he said he wanted to be left alone, I was granting his request. Riley became vehemently angry and said he didn’t mean it. What he meant was that he wanted to be alone WITH ME in some other place. We both asked him “Why?” He informed us he wanted me with him because I take such good care of him. When I asked him what my reward would be for taking care of him, he responded with “The reward is that she gets to be with ME.” Oh, dear me, I didn’t know he was so special that I should be honored to wipe his shit from the walls. What is the definition of narcissistic sociopath? Oh!! Wait!! I see it here!! Right next to Riley’s name!
I learned something interesting this week. I have been in touch with a former shipmate of Riley’s. This shipmate says Riley came to visit them 18 years ago. At that time, Riley told them I was killed in a car accident. Actually, I think I look pretty good for having been dead for 18 years!! But, shouldn’t I be much thinner? I don’t see a lot of fat on people who have been dead that long – usually they are just bones. As Mark Twain said – Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.
So – now that leads me to – if I am dead, I can’t do anything for Riley because I don’t exist. That greatly simplifies things for me.
Thinking back, I remember that I have been committed all along to not stand in the way of Riley’s death wish. I recall that I didn’t want any more heroic measures to keep him alive. That was more than a year ago. So when did things change? When did I get off track and things spin out of control? What was it that got me confused about my direction? As I recount the events of the past several months, I know exactly when it happened.
When Riley fell and hurt his arm, I took him to the doctor to make sure it was not broken. At that time I asked for a complete blood test so I could determine where he was on his road to death. When the results came back, he ended up in the hospital overnight having his potassium replaced. That’s when all this mess started.
People wanted to “help” Riley. They wanted to “help” me. The nurse alarmed me with Riley’s erratic heart beats which caused him to go back to the primary care doctor and then to the cardiologists. I grew weak from lack of sleep and attending to all of Riley’s needs. I knew I needed help, but the type of help I was offered was really only making things worse. What I wanted was one of two things – put Riley into a long term care facility or get a personal aide. My goal was never to get him to enter rehab and attain sobriety – been there, done that – without any success. I knew just detox alone was not what I was looking for if detox was not followed by placement in a long term care facility. Why detour him from a road that he prefers to travel and will end with an abrupt fall from the edge of a cliff? It is the same road he has chosen countless times over the years. Why not just let him reach the “dead end” sign as he is determined to do.
The cardio doc is right in that it will be a difficult road for me to watch Riley traverse. I’m not cut out for the role of Dr. Korvorkian. Observing someone die is so very distasteful for me. My every natural instinct is to try to save human life at all costs. But, how many times should a person be saved from death when they clearly have chosen to die? If Riley had cancer and had reached the end of all possible hope, then as difficult as it is, I would turn off the feeding tubes and let God take him away. That’s what I had to do for my son. I must see this situation as Riley having an incurable disease and that he has chosen his own end. I must let God deal with him and not try to interfere in his divine plan.
So this is what they mean when they say “Let Go and Let God.”
Here’s how it’s been going:
On Friday I made my declaration of independence and informed Riley that since he wanted to be left alone – he was now alone. I would not do anything for him anything to make him more comfortable or assist him in making his alcoholism easier for him. I will no longer cook his meals, do his laundry, or clean his spaces. I also will not make or take him to doctor appointments of any kind. The only thing I will do is buy his alcohol because I don’t want him on the road putting innocent people at harm. He has clearly stated that he just wants to be left alone to drink as much as he wants even if that means drinking himself to death. That’s what I will do for him – allow him to drink himself to death.
Since Friday, I’ve cooked only for myself. I made myself some lovely meals and enjoyed them very much. Riley has eaten a Hot Pocket and a portion of a frozen dinner. He watched me as I prepared my apricot stuffed pork chop, but didn’t ask if I was making enough for him. The answer would have been NO!
I have not cleaned his bathroom and his bath aide is refusing to come because she cannot be in a bathroom where feces is smeared on the wall or floors. His diaper pail is overflowing and the door jambs have handprints created from unwashed hands. The trail leads to his bedroom.
In the bedroom, he has knocked over a short bookcase and the contents are now on the floor. His sheets have not been changed and when you look in you can see the bodily function stains. Dirty clothes are scattered about his floor and the room reeks worse than a locker room after a big game. A spray of Febreeze isn’t going to do the trick.
All in all things are going rapidly downhill for Riley. He’s on the downward dip of the roller coaster and I doubt it will make it back to the top of the next peak. I did not buy a ticket and refuse to get onboard.
After a discussion with the visiting nurse, we have decided that there is nothing more she can offer him in a skilled nursing capacity. All she does is check his vitals and since his butt is healing, there’s nothing left to do. She has offered to find out if Hospice would be an option for him. But, basically, she is as done as I am.
While the nurse was there for her last visit, she told Riley that it seemed that I had given up on him. Since he said he wanted to be left alone, I was granting his request. Riley became vehemently angry and said he didn’t mean it. What he meant was that he wanted to be alone WITH ME in some other place. We both asked him “Why?” He informed us he wanted me with him because I take such good care of him. When I asked him what my reward would be for taking care of him, he responded with “The reward is that she gets to be with ME.” Oh, dear me, I didn’t know he was so special that I should be honored to wipe his shit from the walls. What is the definition of narcissistic sociopath? Oh!! Wait!! I see it here!! Right next to Riley’s name!
I learned something interesting this week. I have been in touch with a former shipmate of Riley’s. This shipmate says Riley came to visit them 18 years ago. At that time, Riley told them I was killed in a car accident. Actually, I think I look pretty good for having been dead for 18 years!! But, shouldn’t I be much thinner? I don’t see a lot of fat on people who have been dead that long – usually they are just bones. As Mark Twain said – Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.
So – now that leads me to – if I am dead, I can’t do anything for Riley because I don’t exist. That greatly simplifies things for me.
Thinking back, I remember that I have been committed all along to not stand in the way of Riley’s death wish. I recall that I didn’t want any more heroic measures to keep him alive. That was more than a year ago. So when did things change? When did I get off track and things spin out of control? What was it that got me confused about my direction? As I recount the events of the past several months, I know exactly when it happened.
When Riley fell and hurt his arm, I took him to the doctor to make sure it was not broken. At that time I asked for a complete blood test so I could determine where he was on his road to death. When the results came back, he ended up in the hospital overnight having his potassium replaced. That’s when all this mess started.
People wanted to “help” Riley. They wanted to “help” me. The nurse alarmed me with Riley’s erratic heart beats which caused him to go back to the primary care doctor and then to the cardiologists. I grew weak from lack of sleep and attending to all of Riley’s needs. I knew I needed help, but the type of help I was offered was really only making things worse. What I wanted was one of two things – put Riley into a long term care facility or get a personal aide. My goal was never to get him to enter rehab and attain sobriety – been there, done that – without any success. I knew just detox alone was not what I was looking for if detox was not followed by placement in a long term care facility. Why detour him from a road that he prefers to travel and will end with an abrupt fall from the edge of a cliff? It is the same road he has chosen countless times over the years. Why not just let him reach the “dead end” sign as he is determined to do.
The cardio doc is right in that it will be a difficult road for me to watch Riley traverse. I’m not cut out for the role of Dr. Korvorkian. Observing someone die is so very distasteful for me. My every natural instinct is to try to save human life at all costs. But, how many times should a person be saved from death when they clearly have chosen to die? If Riley had cancer and had reached the end of all possible hope, then as difficult as it is, I would turn off the feeding tubes and let God take him away. That’s what I had to do for my son. I must see this situation as Riley having an incurable disease and that he has chosen his own end. I must let God deal with him and not try to interfere in his divine plan.
So this is what they mean when they say “Let Go and Let God.”
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Just tell me what you want...
Yesterday, we were patiently waiting in the cardiologist’s office and Riley and we were talking about a couple that he had been friends with in the good old days. Those days weren’t so good for me because I was an outsider and the memories reminded me of being weak and senseless.
The conversation then turned to an instance of him choosing the couple’s family over his own. To make a long story short – I had just arrived at the new duty station. It was just a few days from Thanksgiving weekend. We found a house and Riley gave me money so we could move in right away.
When I went to pick Riley up from the base that evening, one of his shipmates gave me a note from him. It said he needed space to think about things. He said not to worry he would be fine. I was stunned. What was there to think about? He knew for weeks that I was arriving and sent me money to make the trip across country. If he was having doubts about us, why didn’t he tell me before I drove from California to Connecticut?
I had no money for groceries, let alone Thanksgiving dinner. I ended up getting food vouchers from Traveler’s Aid which would give us enough basic food for a few days. Our Thanksgiving Dinner that year was half a baked chicken, potato salad and pumpkin pie. We walked on the beach, watched TV and played board games. Alea kept asking when I thought her Daddy was coming home. Brain just kept telling Alea to forget about him and that he didn’t care about us.
It was not a far leap for me to figure it out where Riley was. He was with the Rittenhouse family celebrating Thanksgiving in a warm, food laden cabin with a roaring fire, laughter and children running about.
Finally, I worked up the courage to call the cabin and demanded to speak to Riley. There was an awkward silence and I could hear the shuffling of the phone. Riley thinks he’s very good at imitating the Asian accent – he’s not. He answered with that accent, but I knew it was him. I asked him to explain himself. He hung up. I called back. He hung up. I called again. This time a woman came on the phone and told me I was ruining their Thanksgiving. She could have said a million things – she could have told me the truth – ruining her Thanksgiving was something I was happy to do. My kids weren’t even having a Thanksgiving!!
The whole scenario got played again while waiting for the doctor. Riley recounted that Thanksgiving would have been one of the best he ever had if it had not been for me. He blurted out that it was inconsiderate of me to call while they were enjoying their holiday. He said he would have been home in a few days. If I had never called he wouldn’t have had to pretend he was some Asian chick.
I tried to turn off the tapes of the past that was running through my head. I reminded myself that I was happy that I put the past in a place where it could not interfere with the present. I reminded myself that I didn’t want any past misconceptions to change anything in the present time. I wanted only to move forward.
It was not the fault of the Rittenhouse family that Riley was a lying jerk. They had only extended an invitation to a friend when they thought that friend had no place to go on a holiday. They were like that. It was not their fault that the invitation would hurt me or my children. They had no way of knowing because Riley didn’t tell them the truth. It was clearly Riley’s fault. So as a result of Riley’s action (or inaction) everyone suffered including the Rittenhouse family. Over the past 20+ years, I’ve discovered a lot of lies that Riley told about his relationship with the Rittenhouse family just as he has told them a lot of lies about me and the kids. As his alcoholism progresses, he has trouble keeping his past lies straight and ends up letting the truth slip out sporadically.
But I guess I’ve never really healed from the past because I heard the words come out of my mouth – “Are you sorry that you hurt us that way? Are you sorry for the lies you told? Are you sorry your kid’s memory of Thanksgiving has always been tainted by that one holiday more than 20 years ago?”
His answer – “I’m not sorry for anything I have done or will ever do. I see no point in being sorry. I still would have done exactly what I did.”
My reply – “You don’t think it was wrong?”
Riley – “No. I don’t do “wrong” things. It may have been wrong for you, but it was not wrong for me.”
It was unfortunate that at the very end of Riley’s explanation the doctor chose that very moment to enter the room. He asked Riley if he wanted to quit drinking. Of course not. He then said he was going to have him committed as being a danger to himself and others. The doctor then turned to me and said – that will get him into detox but that is all it will do. If he is unwilling to go to a long term care facility, we cannot force him into one after detox.
The conversation was quick and forceful and I felt my voice disappear. In this day, it’s unusual for me to feel unable to speak. The doc asked how he gets his booze. I told him I buy it. He said that was good because he didn’t want Riley driving. The doc told me to decrease the amount of vodka in each drink. I told him I don’t fix his drinks – he fixes his own. He told me I had to start fixing his drinks and put a little less vodka in each one. That way, he can detox at home. I protested that Riley drinks throughout the night and that would mean I would have to be up to make his drinks all night. He said that’s the only way to cut him back safely.
This whole time, Riley is yelling – he is not going to stop drinking and unless he goes to a long term care facility that allows alcohol, he’s not going there either. He is yelling that he is going to live another 30 years and I’m going to take “most excellent” care of him.
The doctor is ignoring him. He is focused on me. So I just blurt it out – I’m not going to go through round five of detox to have him survive to make my life miserable for another year. I need help to just let him die!! It’s what he has said he wants – why not just let him have what he wants.
Riley’s voice fades to the background – “Nay! Nay! Moose breath!! I’m not going to die! I’m going to be shot by a jealous husband at the age of 112!” I vaguely hear the words because they are like background noise.
The doc gets quiet and says “I’m afraid you won’t let him die. I’m afraid you are not strong enough. You will try to save him because you are a loving, caring, humane person. You will try to do the right thing. He needs to be committed. But, I don’t think it’s going to do anything but prolong the inevitable. Tell me what I can do to help you.”
I tell him I need to have the nurse and bath aid continue visiting. He says he will make that happen and gives the order to the PA. He tells me to call and request anything I want and he will be happy to try to make it happen. With that, he leaves the room.
As I’m trying to get his wheelchair turned around, he looks up at me and says “I’m not going to die. You are being very mean. I hate you. I was right when I choose the Rittenhouse’s over you. See what you’ve done to me!”
I looked straight into his eyes and stated clearly. “You may not die, but you are killing me and when I’m gone, who’s going to remind you to change your shitty diapers? Do you think Susan will come do it for you? There is one thing I know – she is way too smart to put up with your nonsense. They left your ass before when your drinking got in the way – they aren’t going to take you in now. If it were not for me protecting Alea, you would be dead by now. I’m all you’ve got and I’m done.”
On the way home, Riley asked when I could take him to the dentist and eye doctor’s. He’s not in any dental pain and just wants and extra set of glasses. I pulled the car over to the side of the road. I think I was contemplating putting him out. Instead I grabbed my cell phone and turned on the recorder. I told him I had stopped the car because I wanted him to focus on what I was saying. I asked if he understood me. I asked if he could hear me clearly. I asked if he wanted to detox, rehab, long term care, continue to drink. I asked him to choose death or sobriety. He chose death.
I calmly told him, “There will no longer be any discussion of any type of facility. There will be no detox, no rehab, no attempts to prolong your life, no rescue squad, no 911, no ER. There not be any more doctor appointments of any kind – no dentist, no optometrist, no cardiologist. There will only be me allowing you to do what you want to do -- drink yourself to death. I will not stop him. This will be the last time I ask the question – what do you want to do.”
“I want to be left alone so I can drink as much as I want – the way I want. If I die then I want you to just let me die.” He replied.
My answer – OK. I’ll put together a statement that will be notarized with your signature. It will state exactly what you want. I will leave you to die in the manner of your own choosing.
I turned off the recorded and continued in silence. I left him struggling to get out of the van and up the steps into the house. I offered no aid, no arm to steady him. I went to my room closed and locked the door and eventually drifted off into a peaceful sleep.
The conversation then turned to an instance of him choosing the couple’s family over his own. To make a long story short – I had just arrived at the new duty station. It was just a few days from Thanksgiving weekend. We found a house and Riley gave me money so we could move in right away.
When I went to pick Riley up from the base that evening, one of his shipmates gave me a note from him. It said he needed space to think about things. He said not to worry he would be fine. I was stunned. What was there to think about? He knew for weeks that I was arriving and sent me money to make the trip across country. If he was having doubts about us, why didn’t he tell me before I drove from California to Connecticut?
I had no money for groceries, let alone Thanksgiving dinner. I ended up getting food vouchers from Traveler’s Aid which would give us enough basic food for a few days. Our Thanksgiving Dinner that year was half a baked chicken, potato salad and pumpkin pie. We walked on the beach, watched TV and played board games. Alea kept asking when I thought her Daddy was coming home. Brain just kept telling Alea to forget about him and that he didn’t care about us.
It was not a far leap for me to figure it out where Riley was. He was with the Rittenhouse family celebrating Thanksgiving in a warm, food laden cabin with a roaring fire, laughter and children running about.
Finally, I worked up the courage to call the cabin and demanded to speak to Riley. There was an awkward silence and I could hear the shuffling of the phone. Riley thinks he’s very good at imitating the Asian accent – he’s not. He answered with that accent, but I knew it was him. I asked him to explain himself. He hung up. I called back. He hung up. I called again. This time a woman came on the phone and told me I was ruining their Thanksgiving. She could have said a million things – she could have told me the truth – ruining her Thanksgiving was something I was happy to do. My kids weren’t even having a Thanksgiving!!
The whole scenario got played again while waiting for the doctor. Riley recounted that Thanksgiving would have been one of the best he ever had if it had not been for me. He blurted out that it was inconsiderate of me to call while they were enjoying their holiday. He said he would have been home in a few days. If I had never called he wouldn’t have had to pretend he was some Asian chick.
I tried to turn off the tapes of the past that was running through my head. I reminded myself that I was happy that I put the past in a place where it could not interfere with the present. I reminded myself that I didn’t want any past misconceptions to change anything in the present time. I wanted only to move forward.
It was not the fault of the Rittenhouse family that Riley was a lying jerk. They had only extended an invitation to a friend when they thought that friend had no place to go on a holiday. They were like that. It was not their fault that the invitation would hurt me or my children. They had no way of knowing because Riley didn’t tell them the truth. It was clearly Riley’s fault. So as a result of Riley’s action (or inaction) everyone suffered including the Rittenhouse family. Over the past 20+ years, I’ve discovered a lot of lies that Riley told about his relationship with the Rittenhouse family just as he has told them a lot of lies about me and the kids. As his alcoholism progresses, he has trouble keeping his past lies straight and ends up letting the truth slip out sporadically.
But I guess I’ve never really healed from the past because I heard the words come out of my mouth – “Are you sorry that you hurt us that way? Are you sorry for the lies you told? Are you sorry your kid’s memory of Thanksgiving has always been tainted by that one holiday more than 20 years ago?”
His answer – “I’m not sorry for anything I have done or will ever do. I see no point in being sorry. I still would have done exactly what I did.”
My reply – “You don’t think it was wrong?”
Riley – “No. I don’t do “wrong” things. It may have been wrong for you, but it was not wrong for me.”
It was unfortunate that at the very end of Riley’s explanation the doctor chose that very moment to enter the room. He asked Riley if he wanted to quit drinking. Of course not. He then said he was going to have him committed as being a danger to himself and others. The doctor then turned to me and said – that will get him into detox but that is all it will do. If he is unwilling to go to a long term care facility, we cannot force him into one after detox.
The conversation was quick and forceful and I felt my voice disappear. In this day, it’s unusual for me to feel unable to speak. The doc asked how he gets his booze. I told him I buy it. He said that was good because he didn’t want Riley driving. The doc told me to decrease the amount of vodka in each drink. I told him I don’t fix his drinks – he fixes his own. He told me I had to start fixing his drinks and put a little less vodka in each one. That way, he can detox at home. I protested that Riley drinks throughout the night and that would mean I would have to be up to make his drinks all night. He said that’s the only way to cut him back safely.
This whole time, Riley is yelling – he is not going to stop drinking and unless he goes to a long term care facility that allows alcohol, he’s not going there either. He is yelling that he is going to live another 30 years and I’m going to take “most excellent” care of him.
The doctor is ignoring him. He is focused on me. So I just blurt it out – I’m not going to go through round five of detox to have him survive to make my life miserable for another year. I need help to just let him die!! It’s what he has said he wants – why not just let him have what he wants.
Riley’s voice fades to the background – “Nay! Nay! Moose breath!! I’m not going to die! I’m going to be shot by a jealous husband at the age of 112!” I vaguely hear the words because they are like background noise.
The doc gets quiet and says “I’m afraid you won’t let him die. I’m afraid you are not strong enough. You will try to save him because you are a loving, caring, humane person. You will try to do the right thing. He needs to be committed. But, I don’t think it’s going to do anything but prolong the inevitable. Tell me what I can do to help you.”
I tell him I need to have the nurse and bath aid continue visiting. He says he will make that happen and gives the order to the PA. He tells me to call and request anything I want and he will be happy to try to make it happen. With that, he leaves the room.
As I’m trying to get his wheelchair turned around, he looks up at me and says “I’m not going to die. You are being very mean. I hate you. I was right when I choose the Rittenhouse’s over you. See what you’ve done to me!”
I looked straight into his eyes and stated clearly. “You may not die, but you are killing me and when I’m gone, who’s going to remind you to change your shitty diapers? Do you think Susan will come do it for you? There is one thing I know – she is way too smart to put up with your nonsense. They left your ass before when your drinking got in the way – they aren’t going to take you in now. If it were not for me protecting Alea, you would be dead by now. I’m all you’ve got and I’m done.”
On the way home, Riley asked when I could take him to the dentist and eye doctor’s. He’s not in any dental pain and just wants and extra set of glasses. I pulled the car over to the side of the road. I think I was contemplating putting him out. Instead I grabbed my cell phone and turned on the recorder. I told him I had stopped the car because I wanted him to focus on what I was saying. I asked if he understood me. I asked if he could hear me clearly. I asked if he wanted to detox, rehab, long term care, continue to drink. I asked him to choose death or sobriety. He chose death.
I calmly told him, “There will no longer be any discussion of any type of facility. There will be no detox, no rehab, no attempts to prolong your life, no rescue squad, no 911, no ER. There not be any more doctor appointments of any kind – no dentist, no optometrist, no cardiologist. There will only be me allowing you to do what you want to do -- drink yourself to death. I will not stop him. This will be the last time I ask the question – what do you want to do.”
“I want to be left alone so I can drink as much as I want – the way I want. If I die then I want you to just let me die.” He replied.
My answer – OK. I’ll put together a statement that will be notarized with your signature. It will state exactly what you want. I will leave you to die in the manner of your own choosing.
I turned off the recorded and continued in silence. I left him struggling to get out of the van and up the steps into the house. I offered no aid, no arm to steady him. I went to my room closed and locked the door and eventually drifted off into a peaceful sleep.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
It's the little things...
I had received some e-mails about malware due to a link on the blog. I’m very sorry to say that I have removed the links to the blogs that I follow. I’m hoping this is only a temporary situation. What I can do is list them rather than link them. I want to apologize to all my fellow bloggers that I can’t provide the link at this time. I appreciate your support and I will attempt to correct the situation as soon as possible.
Eventually the entire blog will be moved to my new website at www.immortalalcoholicswife.com . You can go take a peek, but it still really is just a work in progress. I still need to add a “comments” and “forum” section. But, so far, I think it looks pretty good for creating it all on my own. I welcome suggestions and constructive comments.
Since my little vaca, I’ve been feeling pretty good. I suppose that means that I’m feeling that I’m keeping things under control. But, I never feel that anything is really CONTROLLED. The more appropriate word would be MANAGED. I’m managing things fairly well these days. I’m getting things checked off my long-term TO DO list while keeping the day-to-day chaos at a minimum.
Riley has been more… ummm… cantankerous since I’ve been back. He’s always more difficult when I return from an overnight, but this time he’s even more so. It seems he wants to test me to see if he can get me to say or do something contrary to my standards. He particularly enjoys it when I am yelling and screaming. It makes him feel superior because he takes pride in his passive aggressive quiet voice.
For example, he loves NCIS, but yesterday he told me he didn’t want to watch it anymore because he’d seen them all. I said something about watching some other cop show programs. I said that JAG was still on and I could find it for him so he could watch it. In a very indignant voice he told me that I wasn’t going to stop him from watching NCIS. HUH??
It’s the little things. Even though Riley doesn’t drink coffee, every night he sets up the coffee pot for the next morning. I ask him not to because some days I just would rather have a cup of tea. He refuses to let me take care of my own morning go-juice. I buy a variety of coffee creamers so I can switch them off. He insists I use one bottle until it’s totally gone before I open another. For the most part, I just go with the flow. I drink the coffee and use the open creamer because I know that there will come a day when he forgets to set up the coffee pot at night. I know eventually he will not keep track of anything in the pantry or frig because he will be, essentially, a walking zombie.
Our visiting nurse (a miracle worker in my opinion) has managed to get Riley to cut back on his consumption. He’s still downing close to a liter a day, but not more than that. Before the nurse, he was drinking a liter or more each and every day. Now the 2 liter bottle last about 2 and a half days. The end result is that he is slightly more aware of what’s going on around him.
It’s a mixed blessing, really. The more unaware he is, the less friction there is about how things get done. The less likely he is to question my decisions. But, without the extra booze, he has a longer moment of clarity in the mornings. I appreciate having a semi-normal conversation with him while I drink that first cup of coffee. He doesn’t fall as much. On the other hand, the driving his car issue is more heated and he is more determined to find a way to outwit my efforts to keep him from driving.
For me, whether he drinks more or less really doesn’t matter to me. That is – unless he wants to stop drinking altogether and that is extremely unlikely. I would support him in that if I knew he was serious – but – the best predictor of future behavior, etc., etc. It’s just a waiting game. In two weeks the nurse will stop coming (unless a miracle happens) and we will be back to where we were a month ago.
On Monday, we have an appointment with a cardiologist and the docs physician assistant. I turned to this heart doc when the primary care doc told me “every alcoholic is healthy enough for detox.” Dr. White, the cardio, is my heart doc and he is well versed with the conditions inside my home. He is also familiar with alcoholism. Since our visiting nurse has expressed concern over Riley’s erratic heart beats, I thought it was time for us to go this route. Riley has had an echocardiogram and has had the 24 Holter routine. The results will be reviewed on Monday.
The goal for this upcoming appointment is to create a plan of action that will provide safety for both Riley and I. I don’t know exactly what that will look like. Maybe Dr. White will be able to continue the visiting nurse for a while longer. Maybe he will suggest immediate detox and long term care. I just don’t know what he is going to say. But, I know that whatever he says, having a concrete plan will be a relief.
I was surprised that Senator Burr’s office contacted me within a day of my phone call. I thought it would take weeks, but instead I was contacted by one of his aides, John Mitchell, while he was commuting home on a Friday evening. I was impressed and even more so when he gave me his cell phone number and said I could use it even on the weekends. Mr. Mitchell told me that his office has the power to make sure the VA paperwork is expedited and they are willing to do that for us. A few days later, I was contacted by the “Constituent Advocate”, Eric Wilson, from the Wilmington Office. He sent me a form to fill out allowing him to discuss Riley’s case with him. I’ve faxed back the paperwork and am waiting for a return call.
In my opinion, the best plan for Riley is to be able to keep him here at home with a personal aide to help with his care. I’ve been told it is not IF the VA comes through, but rather WHEN the VA comes through. That would allow me to do what I think is best for Riley. Dr. White may not agree. He may think waiting around for the VA is too risky because it may take too long. Monday will prove to be an interesting day.
Eventually the entire blog will be moved to my new website at www.immortalalcoholicswife.com . You can go take a peek, but it still really is just a work in progress. I still need to add a “comments” and “forum” section. But, so far, I think it looks pretty good for creating it all on my own. I welcome suggestions and constructive comments.
Since my little vaca, I’ve been feeling pretty good. I suppose that means that I’m feeling that I’m keeping things under control. But, I never feel that anything is really CONTROLLED. The more appropriate word would be MANAGED. I’m managing things fairly well these days. I’m getting things checked off my long-term TO DO list while keeping the day-to-day chaos at a minimum.
Riley has been more… ummm… cantankerous since I’ve been back. He’s always more difficult when I return from an overnight, but this time he’s even more so. It seems he wants to test me to see if he can get me to say or do something contrary to my standards. He particularly enjoys it when I am yelling and screaming. It makes him feel superior because he takes pride in his passive aggressive quiet voice.
For example, he loves NCIS, but yesterday he told me he didn’t want to watch it anymore because he’d seen them all. I said something about watching some other cop show programs. I said that JAG was still on and I could find it for him so he could watch it. In a very indignant voice he told me that I wasn’t going to stop him from watching NCIS. HUH??
It’s the little things. Even though Riley doesn’t drink coffee, every night he sets up the coffee pot for the next morning. I ask him not to because some days I just would rather have a cup of tea. He refuses to let me take care of my own morning go-juice. I buy a variety of coffee creamers so I can switch them off. He insists I use one bottle until it’s totally gone before I open another. For the most part, I just go with the flow. I drink the coffee and use the open creamer because I know that there will come a day when he forgets to set up the coffee pot at night. I know eventually he will not keep track of anything in the pantry or frig because he will be, essentially, a walking zombie.
Our visiting nurse (a miracle worker in my opinion) has managed to get Riley to cut back on his consumption. He’s still downing close to a liter a day, but not more than that. Before the nurse, he was drinking a liter or more each and every day. Now the 2 liter bottle last about 2 and a half days. The end result is that he is slightly more aware of what’s going on around him.
It’s a mixed blessing, really. The more unaware he is, the less friction there is about how things get done. The less likely he is to question my decisions. But, without the extra booze, he has a longer moment of clarity in the mornings. I appreciate having a semi-normal conversation with him while I drink that first cup of coffee. He doesn’t fall as much. On the other hand, the driving his car issue is more heated and he is more determined to find a way to outwit my efforts to keep him from driving.
For me, whether he drinks more or less really doesn’t matter to me. That is – unless he wants to stop drinking altogether and that is extremely unlikely. I would support him in that if I knew he was serious – but – the best predictor of future behavior, etc., etc. It’s just a waiting game. In two weeks the nurse will stop coming (unless a miracle happens) and we will be back to where we were a month ago.
On Monday, we have an appointment with a cardiologist and the docs physician assistant. I turned to this heart doc when the primary care doc told me “every alcoholic is healthy enough for detox.” Dr. White, the cardio, is my heart doc and he is well versed with the conditions inside my home. He is also familiar with alcoholism. Since our visiting nurse has expressed concern over Riley’s erratic heart beats, I thought it was time for us to go this route. Riley has had an echocardiogram and has had the 24 Holter routine. The results will be reviewed on Monday.
The goal for this upcoming appointment is to create a plan of action that will provide safety for both Riley and I. I don’t know exactly what that will look like. Maybe Dr. White will be able to continue the visiting nurse for a while longer. Maybe he will suggest immediate detox and long term care. I just don’t know what he is going to say. But, I know that whatever he says, having a concrete plan will be a relief.
I was surprised that Senator Burr’s office contacted me within a day of my phone call. I thought it would take weeks, but instead I was contacted by one of his aides, John Mitchell, while he was commuting home on a Friday evening. I was impressed and even more so when he gave me his cell phone number and said I could use it even on the weekends. Mr. Mitchell told me that his office has the power to make sure the VA paperwork is expedited and they are willing to do that for us. A few days later, I was contacted by the “Constituent Advocate”, Eric Wilson, from the Wilmington Office. He sent me a form to fill out allowing him to discuss Riley’s case with him. I’ve faxed back the paperwork and am waiting for a return call.
In my opinion, the best plan for Riley is to be able to keep him here at home with a personal aide to help with his care. I’ve been told it is not IF the VA comes through, but rather WHEN the VA comes through. That would allow me to do what I think is best for Riley. Dr. White may not agree. He may think waiting around for the VA is too risky because it may take too long. Monday will prove to be an interesting day.
Friday, April 13, 2012
Malware...
If you are getting a notification that this site contains malware, please let me know by e-mailing me at ImmortalAlcoholic@gmail.com. Thank you.
Almost Alcoholic...
Today I have a guest poster. The guest is Joseph Nowinski who is the co-author of the book "Almost Alcoholic." I've been asked to review the book and so far, I'm finding it fits right in with my "frog soup" theory. I hope you find his post informative and helpful.
The Almost Alcoholic and Family Life
Our book, Almost Alcoholic: Is My (or My Loved One’s) Drinking a Problem? addresses the issue of how drinking that does not rise to the level of qualifying for a formal diagnosis can nevertheless have serious consequences both for the drinker and his or her family. Here is an example:
Kim is married and has two teenage children, the oldest of whom, a daughter, is a senior in high school and will soon be leaving to attend a college that is some distance away. Kim loves her younger son, of course, but the truth is that the mother-daughter bond has always been more intimate.
Kim recently saw her doctor for what she described as mild depression and trouble sleeping. She did not disclose the fact that over the past year her drinking has increased, because she did not see any need to do so.
Kim readily admits that she’s always been someone who enjoyed a glass of wine, but rarely more than that. She usually drank in the company of her husband, in the evening, and she did not drink every night. Starting when her mother was diagnosed with cancer, however, Kim began drinking a couple (and sometimes three) glasses of wine pretty much every night. She also started drinking before her husband, Steve, got home from work. The reason she drank, she explained, was because it helped her to relax, especially on those das when she would take her mother for chemotherapy treatments.
After her mother’s cancer was treated and declared in remission, Kim’s drinking pattern did not change. That was when she began to have trouble sleeping soundly at night. The habit that was now firmly established was that she would drink her last glass of wine shortly before going to bed, because she thought it helped her fall asleep. That was true, but within a few months she found that she would often wake up at two or three in the morning and then have a hard time getting back to sleep. Then, when she woke up the next morning, she would feel groggy, not rested. Kim does not believe she has a “drinking problem,” and she would bristle at the idea that she is an alcoholic. Instead, she believes she has a “sleeping problem” and also that she may be “a little depressed.” She says her husband has not suggested that she had a drinking problem, either, though he has pointed out the change in her drinking, as well as the fact that she sometimes falls asleep on their family room couch well before they were used to going to bed.
Another consequence of Kim’s drinking is that she definitely feels that she has less energy than she once did. She exercises less often, and her son in particular has complained more than once about the fact that she buys take-out food much more often than he would like. In addition, his grades this year, as he entered high school, have slipped for the first time in his life. Finally, when asked about her relationship with her daughter, Kim acknowledges that “we are a little less close than we used to be,” but she attributes this to the fact that her daughter is a senior and spends a great deal of time studying, playing lacrosse, and socializing.
From our perspective Kim probably had two very real “problems,” the first being lingering depression related, at least in part, to the stress of her mother’s illness, combined with her daughter’s impending leaving for college. She also, however, has a second problem: she has become an almost alcoholic. Allow me to explain.
“The Drinking World”
For many years health care professionals have been accustomed to thinking about drinking in terms of just two diagnostic categories: alcohol abuse and alcohol dependence. In order to qualify for one of these diagnoses an individual has to suffer some fairly severe and obvious consequences directly related to drinking: a major health crisis, an arrest, loss of a job, etc. To be diagnosed as alcohol dependent a person also has to experience physical symptoms of withdrawal if he or she stops drinking. Meanwhile, men and women whose drinking is not severe enough to qualify for one of these two diagnoses have essentially been considered “normal.” A major limitation of this approach to diagnosis is that it fails to address the very real problems caused by drinking that doesn’t rise to the level needed for a diagnosis.
As it works on the first major revision of its Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (DSM) in 15 years, the American Psychiatric Association is contemplating moving from categorical thinking like the above with respect to a number of diagnoses. In its place they are considering viewing a number of diagnoses in terms of a spectrum. This is where the concept of almost alcoholic fits in. And like Kim, it may apply to you or someone you love.
Rather than thinking in terms of just three categories (Normal, Alcohol Abuse, Alcoholism), it is probably more productive to look at drinking in terms of a spectrum like that depicted below:
This illustration more accurately reflects the real “drinking world.” What it suggests is that an individual’s drinking can range anywhere from normal social drinking at one end of the spectrum, to almost alcoholic in the mid-range, to alcohol abuse or dependence. Moreover, these different areas are not separated by sharp lines. Rather, they blend into one another. Of the three “problem” zones, the almost alcoholic zone is by far the largest.
Normal social drinking is the person who has a beer or two, or a glass of wine or two, not more than a few times a month, and almost always in a social context. This is the man or woman who meets friends for happy hour after work on Friday, who joins friends to watch a game on television, or who is invited to a party. Millions of people are normal social drinkers, and many of them never go on to be more than normal social drinkers.
As the illustration suggests, there is a large “gray area” that lies beyond normal social drinking but falls short of alcohol abuse and dependence. Many people slip into this gray zone. Some go only a short distance; others venture much deeper over time, but still are not alcoholics. That said, men and women whose drinking patterns lie in the almost alcoholic zone are likely to be suffering, as are their loved ones. For example, they may be experiencing one or more of the following:
• Trouble sleeping soundly
• Mild depression
• Marital or family conflict
• Health problems that aren’t recognized as related to drinking
• Declining performance at work
In the beginning, people who drink, as Kim did, to relieve stress (or boredom, anxiety, or loneliness) don’t consider the possibility that the amount they drink can cause other problems; rather, they drink because they believe it helps them. In Kim’s case, for example, a glass of wine before bedtime initially helped her get to sleep. She did not set out to become an almost alcoholic, but simply slipped into that zone over time. Like most people, she was unaware that two or three glasses of wine a night could slow her metabolism, disrupt her sleep, and contribute to the “mild depression” that nagged her. Similarly, she did not see the connection between her drinking and her declining relationships with her husband and children. Kim was not an alcoholic, but she was somewhere in the almost alcoholic zone.
One thing that has become very clear to us—and a major motivation for writing our book—is that most almost alcoholics (as well as health care professionals) often fail to see the link between drinking and any problems these people may complain of. Being able to “connect the dots” and see the relationship between drinking and such problems allows the almost alcoholic to make a decision: to remain in the almost alcoholic zone (and risk venturing further toward alcoholism), or to choose to “shift left,” back toward normal social drinking.
Many Pathways, Many Solutions
Again, no one sets out intending to become an almost alcoholic. Similarly, people do not become almost alcoholics for the same reasons. There are many pathways into the almost alcoholic zone, and for that reason, there needs to be many solutions. We discuss several of these pathways--and solutions--in our book.
_____
About the author:Joseph Nowinski, Ph.D., is a co-author of Almost Alcoholic: Is My (or My Loved One’s) Drinking a Problem? (Hazelden, April 2012, with Dr. Robert Doyle). Nowinski is a clinical psychologist and was assistant professor of psychiatry at the University of California—San Francisco and associate adjunct professor of psychology at the University of Connecticut.
The Almost Alcoholic and Family Life
Our book, Almost Alcoholic: Is My (or My Loved One’s) Drinking a Problem? addresses the issue of how drinking that does not rise to the level of qualifying for a formal diagnosis can nevertheless have serious consequences both for the drinker and his or her family. Here is an example:
Kim is married and has two teenage children, the oldest of whom, a daughter, is a senior in high school and will soon be leaving to attend a college that is some distance away. Kim loves her younger son, of course, but the truth is that the mother-daughter bond has always been more intimate.
Kim recently saw her doctor for what she described as mild depression and trouble sleeping. She did not disclose the fact that over the past year her drinking has increased, because she did not see any need to do so.
Kim readily admits that she’s always been someone who enjoyed a glass of wine, but rarely more than that. She usually drank in the company of her husband, in the evening, and she did not drink every night. Starting when her mother was diagnosed with cancer, however, Kim began drinking a couple (and sometimes three) glasses of wine pretty much every night. She also started drinking before her husband, Steve, got home from work. The reason she drank, she explained, was because it helped her to relax, especially on those das when she would take her mother for chemotherapy treatments.
After her mother’s cancer was treated and declared in remission, Kim’s drinking pattern did not change. That was when she began to have trouble sleeping soundly at night. The habit that was now firmly established was that she would drink her last glass of wine shortly before going to bed, because she thought it helped her fall asleep. That was true, but within a few months she found that she would often wake up at two or three in the morning and then have a hard time getting back to sleep. Then, when she woke up the next morning, she would feel groggy, not rested. Kim does not believe she has a “drinking problem,” and she would bristle at the idea that she is an alcoholic. Instead, she believes she has a “sleeping problem” and also that she may be “a little depressed.” She says her husband has not suggested that she had a drinking problem, either, though he has pointed out the change in her drinking, as well as the fact that she sometimes falls asleep on their family room couch well before they were used to going to bed.
Another consequence of Kim’s drinking is that she definitely feels that she has less energy than she once did. She exercises less often, and her son in particular has complained more than once about the fact that she buys take-out food much more often than he would like. In addition, his grades this year, as he entered high school, have slipped for the first time in his life. Finally, when asked about her relationship with her daughter, Kim acknowledges that “we are a little less close than we used to be,” but she attributes this to the fact that her daughter is a senior and spends a great deal of time studying, playing lacrosse, and socializing.
From our perspective Kim probably had two very real “problems,” the first being lingering depression related, at least in part, to the stress of her mother’s illness, combined with her daughter’s impending leaving for college. She also, however, has a second problem: she has become an almost alcoholic. Allow me to explain.
“The Drinking World”
For many years health care professionals have been accustomed to thinking about drinking in terms of just two diagnostic categories: alcohol abuse and alcohol dependence. In order to qualify for one of these diagnoses an individual has to suffer some fairly severe and obvious consequences directly related to drinking: a major health crisis, an arrest, loss of a job, etc. To be diagnosed as alcohol dependent a person also has to experience physical symptoms of withdrawal if he or she stops drinking. Meanwhile, men and women whose drinking is not severe enough to qualify for one of these two diagnoses have essentially been considered “normal.” A major limitation of this approach to diagnosis is that it fails to address the very real problems caused by drinking that doesn’t rise to the level needed for a diagnosis.
As it works on the first major revision of its Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (DSM) in 15 years, the American Psychiatric Association is contemplating moving from categorical thinking like the above with respect to a number of diagnoses. In its place they are considering viewing a number of diagnoses in terms of a spectrum. This is where the concept of almost alcoholic fits in. And like Kim, it may apply to you or someone you love.
Rather than thinking in terms of just three categories (Normal, Alcohol Abuse, Alcoholism), it is probably more productive to look at drinking in terms of a spectrum like that depicted below:
This illustration more accurately reflects the real “drinking world.” What it suggests is that an individual’s drinking can range anywhere from normal social drinking at one end of the spectrum, to almost alcoholic in the mid-range, to alcohol abuse or dependence. Moreover, these different areas are not separated by sharp lines. Rather, they blend into one another. Of the three “problem” zones, the almost alcoholic zone is by far the largest.
Normal social drinking is the person who has a beer or two, or a glass of wine or two, not more than a few times a month, and almost always in a social context. This is the man or woman who meets friends for happy hour after work on Friday, who joins friends to watch a game on television, or who is invited to a party. Millions of people are normal social drinkers, and many of them never go on to be more than normal social drinkers.
As the illustration suggests, there is a large “gray area” that lies beyond normal social drinking but falls short of alcohol abuse and dependence. Many people slip into this gray zone. Some go only a short distance; others venture much deeper over time, but still are not alcoholics. That said, men and women whose drinking patterns lie in the almost alcoholic zone are likely to be suffering, as are their loved ones. For example, they may be experiencing one or more of the following:
• Trouble sleeping soundly
• Mild depression
• Marital or family conflict
• Health problems that aren’t recognized as related to drinking
• Declining performance at work
In the beginning, people who drink, as Kim did, to relieve stress (or boredom, anxiety, or loneliness) don’t consider the possibility that the amount they drink can cause other problems; rather, they drink because they believe it helps them. In Kim’s case, for example, a glass of wine before bedtime initially helped her get to sleep. She did not set out to become an almost alcoholic, but simply slipped into that zone over time. Like most people, she was unaware that two or three glasses of wine a night could slow her metabolism, disrupt her sleep, and contribute to the “mild depression” that nagged her. Similarly, she did not see the connection between her drinking and her declining relationships with her husband and children. Kim was not an alcoholic, but she was somewhere in the almost alcoholic zone.
One thing that has become very clear to us—and a major motivation for writing our book—is that most almost alcoholics (as well as health care professionals) often fail to see the link between drinking and any problems these people may complain of. Being able to “connect the dots” and see the relationship between drinking and such problems allows the almost alcoholic to make a decision: to remain in the almost alcoholic zone (and risk venturing further toward alcoholism), or to choose to “shift left,” back toward normal social drinking.
Many Pathways, Many Solutions
Again, no one sets out intending to become an almost alcoholic. Similarly, people do not become almost alcoholics for the same reasons. There are many pathways into the almost alcoholic zone, and for that reason, there needs to be many solutions. We discuss several of these pathways--and solutions--in our book.
_____
About the author:Joseph Nowinski, Ph.D., is a co-author of Almost Alcoholic: Is My (or My Loved One’s) Drinking a Problem? (Hazelden, April 2012, with Dr. Robert Doyle). Nowinski is a clinical psychologist and was assistant professor of psychiatry at the University of California—San Francisco and associate adjunct professor of psychology at the University of Connecticut.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
And away I go...
Visiting my family is always therapeutic for me. Even though it is exhausting from trying to keep up with my great-grandson and I don’t sleep well while I’m there, the visits always leave me with a renewed sense of hope for life in general. The innocence of the children and watching a young couple in love deal with simple daily issues is refreshing.
One family member is married to an end-stage alcoholic and we share experiences only briefly. It is good to laugh out loud as we say – “Hey! That happens at my house too!”
There’s always a houseful of people coming and going. I find this type of chaos to be joyful with all the laughing, discussing, teasing, hugging and reminiscing. And when things are quiet, with the baby cuddled up against me, my grandson comes over and holds me while telling me he wished I could be here more often. We share a moment or two and then he is up and off dealing with some minor crisis.
And, in spite of all the commotion, when I get back home, I feel relaxed, rested, renewed. I’m ready for Riley craziness.
Going to the kid’s house for an overnight visit isn’t as simple as just getting in the car and driving off. I have to make sure I pack my medication, an extra set of clothes and not forget my toothbrush. Then I need a blanket and pillow. After putting those things in the car, I neatly fold any clothing I have gotten for the little ones and put it into one of my special bags. I take a bunch of reusable grocery bags and gather up a pantry/freezer care package. All that, the special bag and grocery bags, goes in the car as well.
I make sure Riley has his medication set out for the next day. I check that he has bottled water and soda within easy reach. I transfer several microwave meals to the kitchen freezer. I set aside breakfast options. I put a note on the refrigerator door to remind him to have some breakfast and dinner and list the options. I also post my cell phone number on the note. Next, I check to make sure he’ll be able to easily move around his preferred spaces.
It takes me a good two hours to prepare for my departure – and that’s just the day I leave. The day before, I clean his room, change his sheets, etc. I don’t ask the housekeeper to clean “Riley” spaces. I do that myself and I like to make sure it’s done if I’m not going to be in the house.
As I’m walking out the door, I tell Riley that I will be calling him and to make sure he keeps the cordless phone in his pocket in case he needs to call the rescue squad. He says OK and asks when I’ll be back. I never give him a set time. I just say I’ll be home late in the afternoon or early evening. If I give him a time – “I’ll be back around 5:00 p.m.” he will absolutely watch the clock. If 5:00 p.m. comes and goes, he gets antsy and starts calling around to try to find me.
In Rileydom, this was an uneventful overnight. He didn’t need to call the rescue squad and had no major injuries from falls. He managed to eat one of his options – although not much of it, and take his medication. He did not call my cell phone even one time. All in all, he did just fine.
The day after I get home is always a lazy day for me. I don’t clean anything. I seldom check my e-mail or post in either the blog or on the OARS page. I guess it’s from the lack of sleep, but I end up laying around on the sofa and drifting off into little naps throughout the day. Riley doesn’t usually disturb me on these days. He keeps his requests to a minimum and I’m grateful for that. And as a reward for his good behavior, I always fix an outstanding dinner that he will love. Last night it was lobster in champagne sauce over spaghetti squash and spinach. He actually ate about half of his serving. (The recipe will be in the soon to be published cookbook.)
Today is the day after the day after, so I have a full plate agenda. It’s back to posting, e-mailing, paperwork, cleaning, running errands, bath aid and nurse visits, and tending to anything else that happens to come up. I can handle it because my batteries are charged and ready to go!
It’s amazing what a little time away can do. I know this relaxed state of mind will not last for very long, for as long as I have it, I intend to get the most out of it. I think one of the things that should be added to my “to do” list is to plan my next outing. I’m thinking Paris, France for a nice long lunch. I wonder if I could do that in 24 hours… and for less than $100… Somehow, I think I should stick to something a bit closer to home.
One family member is married to an end-stage alcoholic and we share experiences only briefly. It is good to laugh out loud as we say – “Hey! That happens at my house too!”
There’s always a houseful of people coming and going. I find this type of chaos to be joyful with all the laughing, discussing, teasing, hugging and reminiscing. And when things are quiet, with the baby cuddled up against me, my grandson comes over and holds me while telling me he wished I could be here more often. We share a moment or two and then he is up and off dealing with some minor crisis.
And, in spite of all the commotion, when I get back home, I feel relaxed, rested, renewed. I’m ready for Riley craziness.
Going to the kid’s house for an overnight visit isn’t as simple as just getting in the car and driving off. I have to make sure I pack my medication, an extra set of clothes and not forget my toothbrush. Then I need a blanket and pillow. After putting those things in the car, I neatly fold any clothing I have gotten for the little ones and put it into one of my special bags. I take a bunch of reusable grocery bags and gather up a pantry/freezer care package. All that, the special bag and grocery bags, goes in the car as well.
I make sure Riley has his medication set out for the next day. I check that he has bottled water and soda within easy reach. I transfer several microwave meals to the kitchen freezer. I set aside breakfast options. I put a note on the refrigerator door to remind him to have some breakfast and dinner and list the options. I also post my cell phone number on the note. Next, I check to make sure he’ll be able to easily move around his preferred spaces.
It takes me a good two hours to prepare for my departure – and that’s just the day I leave. The day before, I clean his room, change his sheets, etc. I don’t ask the housekeeper to clean “Riley” spaces. I do that myself and I like to make sure it’s done if I’m not going to be in the house.
As I’m walking out the door, I tell Riley that I will be calling him and to make sure he keeps the cordless phone in his pocket in case he needs to call the rescue squad. He says OK and asks when I’ll be back. I never give him a set time. I just say I’ll be home late in the afternoon or early evening. If I give him a time – “I’ll be back around 5:00 p.m.” he will absolutely watch the clock. If 5:00 p.m. comes and goes, he gets antsy and starts calling around to try to find me.
In Rileydom, this was an uneventful overnight. He didn’t need to call the rescue squad and had no major injuries from falls. He managed to eat one of his options – although not much of it, and take his medication. He did not call my cell phone even one time. All in all, he did just fine.
The day after I get home is always a lazy day for me. I don’t clean anything. I seldom check my e-mail or post in either the blog or on the OARS page. I guess it’s from the lack of sleep, but I end up laying around on the sofa and drifting off into little naps throughout the day. Riley doesn’t usually disturb me on these days. He keeps his requests to a minimum and I’m grateful for that. And as a reward for his good behavior, I always fix an outstanding dinner that he will love. Last night it was lobster in champagne sauce over spaghetti squash and spinach. He actually ate about half of his serving. (The recipe will be in the soon to be published cookbook.)
Today is the day after the day after, so I have a full plate agenda. It’s back to posting, e-mailing, paperwork, cleaning, running errands, bath aid and nurse visits, and tending to anything else that happens to come up. I can handle it because my batteries are charged and ready to go!
It’s amazing what a little time away can do. I know this relaxed state of mind will not last for very long, for as long as I have it, I intend to get the most out of it. I think one of the things that should be added to my “to do” list is to plan my next outing. I’m thinking Paris, France for a nice long lunch. I wonder if I could do that in 24 hours… and for less than $100… Somehow, I think I should stick to something a bit closer to home.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Out of options...
Last
Easter I wrote about listening to my great-grandchildren over the phone and how
that renewed my strength even though I missed them terribly.
This
year, I’m doing exactly what I need to do. I’ve been told over and over again
that I need a break away from Riley. I need to regain my perspective and get
some rest. The nurse has all but ordered me to get away for at least 24 hours.
I doing as I’m told.
On
Saturday I’ll be driving to the grandson’s house. I’ll make some stops along
the way for groceries and new outfits for my great-grandkids. I’ll be taking
myself out to lunch in one of the quaint little restaurants near the marina. I’ll
arrive at the house in time to cook a good meal for the kids so they will come
home from work to the aroma of their favorite foods. There will be eggs to dye
and baskets to create.
Sunday
will find me taking my daughter, Alea, out to breakfast before she heads into
work. After that, I’ll take a walk on the beach near her house. By that time
the kids will return from the other relative’s houses. There will be books to
color in, hide and seek to be played and, of course, there will be eggs to hunt.
After
dinner I will get back in my car and head back to the country. I will have
pictures to post on Facebook and details to share with my brother. Most
importantly, I’ll be rested and ready to deal with any Riley-ness that occurred
while I was gone. A volunteer will check on him – but for the most part he will
be alone.
Riley
was supposed to have an echo-cardiogram on Tuesday. Unfortunately the tech had
a death in the family and was unable to come in so it has been rescheduled for
Friday. This is supposed to give us an idea of his heart’s weakness/strength. The
test results were the determining factor of getting him into detox and then
long term care. But, I’m not sure it really matters very much anymore.
Over
the past week, Riley has gone from slightly yellow around the eyes to fluorescent
yellow/green over his back and stomach/chest. There is no longer any white to
his eyes. The nurse was surprised when she walked in and saw him in his rocking
chair. She told Riley that his liver is shutting down completely and his other
organs will quickly follow the liver’s lead. His blood pressure was high and
his heart was erratic. Of course, Riley’s response was the same as it always is
– he’ll live until he’s 104 and be shot by a jealous husband. Good luck with
that was the nurse’s reply.
The
nurse turned to me and told me that it really doesn’t matter if VA comes
through or not because anything an aide could do for him now would not be
enough. The only advantage of an aide at this point is to relieve me of some of
the burden. It would not help Riley, but it might make things easier for me.
And since it appears that I won’t need the aide for very long – I might be able
to manage to pay for it myself. That is – unless the doctor will assign hospice
care. Right now we only have nursing care and that will be over at the end of
the month. Then again – who knows – that might be extended again.
Riley
will not be detoxing and will not be going into long term care. At least, as
far as I know at the moment. I’ve been here before -- many times. But, I think
the Riley cat is about at the end of his nine lives.
When
I told the nurse I was going to visit the kids over the weekend, she was
extremely happy. Her concern was who was going to stay with Riley. I told her
no one except for a one-time check in by a friend. She said that since Riley is
insisting he can live by himself, let him be alone over the weekend. Whatever
happens will happen. He knows how to call the rescue squad in an emergency and
he knows how to reach me.
Am
I nervous about leaving him alone? You betcha! I don’t want to come home to a
burned down shell of a house or to find that he’s been on the floor the whole
time because he broke his hip in a fall. I don’t want him to be in pain. If I’m
here I can probably keep the house from burning down, but I can’t stop him from
falling. He refuses to use the walker or take any other advice. He wants what
he wants when he wants it. So I’m going to let him have what he wants – at least
over the weekend. He wants to be left alone and I will leave him alone.
It
was never my intention to force Riley into sobriety. That option was really
never on the table. But, when it became obvious that I could not take care of
him for very much longer, the option of long term care seemed to be a
possibility. In the care of a facility he would not have the option to drink
thereby extending his life. It was a side benefit and not the main goal.
If
I had been able to get him a personal aide, the chance for an infection would
be minimalized. He would get daily showers instead of weekly ones. His bed
would always have clean sheets and his room would be tidy. His medication would
be monitored. He would have had someone to argue with rather than just me. It
isn’t that I can’t do those things myself. The problem is he is so resistant to
my assistance that he makes it impossible for me to help him. He will allow a
stranger to tend to him, but not someone he’s known for 45 years. I guess it’s
a part of the insanity of alcoholism.
The
long and short of it is this – Riley is out of time and options. Riley made his
choice to drink after being sober for four years. He made an announcement to
the family that he was going to go back to drunkenness because that is what he
prefers. Most alcoholics never get a chance to make that choice because once
the grip of alcoholism takes hold they are hard pressed to loosen the grasp.
Riley had that grip loosened and was sober for a sizable amount of time, yet
with a clear and sober mind, he made a decision to drink. And that’s happened
not just once, but several times. Unlike many alcoholics – Riley chooses to die
an alcoholic death. He is committing suicide by alcohol.
In
the process of not knowing what to do or how to handle all of the digression of
his condition, I lost track of my detachment. So for this weekend, I will
detach from Riley and the chaos of his creation. I will make this trip and I
will enjoy every single precious minute.
I got a phone call from my great-granddaughter because she was all excited about losing a second tooth. Oh my goodness! She is growing up and I don’t want to miss any more seconds of her journey!
I got a phone call from my great-granddaughter because she was all excited about losing a second tooth. Oh my goodness! She is growing up and I don’t want to miss any more seconds of her journey!
Sunday, April 1, 2012
My wife doesn't understand me...
We
have a visiting nurse named Janet. It appears she may be a miracle worker. Each
week she comes to our house and monitors Riley’s condition. All of her visits
include suggestions to Riley that he cut back on his consumption. I expect that
her words are falling on deaf ears as Riley doesn’t want to cut down.
Last
week the package store was out of the large size bottles of vodka, so I bought
him the next size down. These bottles are less than half of the large bottles,
so I bought twice the number of bottles. That turns out to be less the amount I
would usually buy. When I returned home I pointed out to Riley that it will be
very easy for him to keep track of how much he drinks with the smaller bottles.
Since he’s been drinking half of a large bottle, maybe he could try to just
drink ONE of the smaller bottles a day which amounts to less than usual amount.
To
my surprise, Riley agreed. He said – “Well, Janet DOES want me to cut down, so
this would be good.” When Janet arrived, he told her he was only going to drink
one of those bottles a day. She praised him and told him that would be much
better for him.
Yesterday,
when I got up I checked the vodka supply. He had drunk only one-half of one of
the small bottles on Friday!! I checked the garbage can and found no empty
bottles. So he had cut back remarkably since he said he would. I was very proud
of him and made sure I told him so. I pointed out that if he could keep that
up, I may not have to put him into long term care.
Then
I asked if he might consider taking better care of his butt issue. He agreed to
take better care to keep it clean and dry. I’m hoping that the lack of alcohol
may make it easier for him to comply. This morning he reported that he was no
longer having any pain in that area and that he’s been trying to do exactly as
the nurse advised.
We only have a few visits left with Janet. I truly
wish there were some way she could keep coming at least every week. I don’t
know why Riley has responded so favorably to her. I don’t really care about the
“why”. I’m just happy she has gotten through even if it is only temporary.
I
suspect that Riley may have a crush on her. She is very attractive and she is
also very married. That probably sparks Riley’s romantic interest. That’s
exactly the kind of woman he has chased after in his less drunken days. He
actually told her, while I was in the room, that he wanted me to go away so he could be
with her. She asked him what he had to offer her. I could tell that he was not
going to say what he wanted to say – which would have been crude. Instead he
said that she understood him and I didn’t. Oh!! He used the old “my wife doesn’t
understand me” line!
Janet
and I always have a little “meeting” as I walk her to her car. This time we
were almost rolling with laughter as we talked about Riley being smitten. I was
happy she was not offended by Riley’s words. And I was happy for the humor it
brought to the situation.
If
it takes Riley desiring a woman to stop him from drinking so much, even just
for a short time, then I’m all good with that. I know that it is short-term.
When Janet stops coming around, he will forget the promises he made to her and
resume his previous drinking habits. I know he will blame me that she isn’t
coming around anymore. I’ll be the bad person. I can take it. I’m used to it.
With
Riley cutting back, two major projects completed, and the landlady’s semi-annual
inspection over with, I was able to actually relax yesterday. We had
thunderstorms, which I enjoy. I cuddled onto the sofa with my favorite throw
and flipped through the television guide looking for some mindless
entertainment. I drank hot chocolate with lots of whipped cream and throw the
ball down the hallway for Jade to chase. I napped on and off. Both, Riley and
I, snacked on yesterday’s fried chicken and mac and cheese, so I didn’t have to
cook. Riley was quiet all day and only fell a couple of times.
Yesterday
was a good day. I woke up this morning feeling rested and I found myself in a
great mood. Riley joined me in my office with a part vodka/part coffee cup. His
memory is very weak and I showed him houses that I had showed him yesterday. We
had the same conversations this morning as we have had on previous mornings.
This will be a fact of his life for the rest of his life. He has so damaged his
brain that he will never be totally able to remember from day to day.
My
hope is that Riley will continue to cut back on his drinking or at least stay
with the half of the smaller bottle a day. If that happens, I might be able to
keep him with me and be able to get a part-time personal aide for him once the
VA application is approved.
I
have been assured the VA app WILL be approved, but the question the percentage at
which he will receive benefits. Since I’ve gathered all the civilian medical
records myself and organized it into a neat package, I’ve cut off months from
the application process. In previous years, it could take as much as a year (or
more) for an application to be approved. Recently there has been a big push to
get the applications processed faster. Currently, the average application is
either approved or denied within six months.
As
for my talking to Senator Richard Burr (not Barr as I previously wrote), I was
so busy on Friday that I did not call. I did send an e-mail to his office and
requested that he call me or meet with me. That will not stop me from calling
on Wednesday (a less chaotic day for me). I want to make sure I have all my
thoughts in order when I actually talk to him. My primary goal is to see if I
can get Riley evaluated by the VA quickly rather than having to wait the
average six weeks to two months for an appointment. I’m willing to take him
anywhere within 500 miles to make that happen.
I
also want to have some kind of written document of what kind of things I would
like on either a petition for an initiative or something of that nature. It’s a
work in progress and I’m grateful for all the excellent feedback I have
received. Thank you, readers.
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