I don’t know why it always surprises me that Riley continues
to be immortal. A few days ago we were told that he had only hours to live. The
next day he rallied and he could live another year or more. We are living on a
see-saw with Riley.
End-stage liver failure is a horrible way to die. I watch
him as he struggles for words that fit the meaning of what he wants to say. I
see the confusion on his face when I don’t understand what he’s talking about.
Often he will be in mid-sentence and begin quoting phrases from books that he
has read in the past.
Riley cannot control his bowels or his bladder. He doesn’t
seem to have any cognitive awareness of his lack of continence. However, he
will pick at his diaper until he can get it loose and remove it from his body.
He then wants no covering and just wants it to be in the breeze -- so to speak.
He has other people clean the feces from his buttocks, change his clothing, and
give him a sponge bath.
There is no longer any sitting in his favorite chair or
going to the kitchen and getting a snack whenever the mood hits him. He now has
to ask for everything he wants and he must ask to be moved from one side to the
other in his bed. He no longer has strength in his legs or arms to turn
himself.
His appetite is about one-quarter of what it used to be and
he doesn’t have any enthusiasm for his favorite foods. He won’t let anyone feed
him and he ends up with most of his meal on the front of his T-shirt. Last
night he decided to put his plate of tacos on the bed next to him so he could
share it with the dog. The sheets were covered in taco stuff and the entire bed
had to be changed,
Even though he is NOT drinking and not even “pretend”
drinking, he still thinks he is in fact drunk. When asked how he is, he’ll say
that he’s pretty good considering he got really snockered last night. Or he
might say that he “tied one on” or he’s “shit-faced”. Of course he is not any
of those things because he does not get alcohol. But if he thinks he is and is
happy with that, then I’m OK with that.
Riley doesn’t understand that we are not the typical married
couple and believes our marriage has always been that of a loving devoted
couple. He’s very proud that we’ve been married or “together” for nearly 50
years. He doesn’t remember that we were separated for more than 15 of those
years and that we are only together now because he was sick. He looks round the
room and wonders where are his friends? He doesn’t understand why he gets no
phone calls or visitors. There’s a look of sadness when I remind him that his
friends have died of alcoholism and the ones not dead didn’t want to put up
with his egotistical, narcissistic, demanding personality. He doesn’t believe
me. He thinks I’m keeping them from him. Whatever.
I know that most of the drinkers who read my blog will not
use this information as a means to realize the end consequences of habitually
drinking in excess. After all, they are alcoholics and possibly cannot make the
logical link between Riley’s situation and their own drinking. That’s too bad
because Riley is the reality of an alcoholic’s end-of-life.
The demands of caretaking Riley grow every day. I do have
help, but for the majority of the day, it’s just me. I do it all. I’m tired –
exhausted actually – and I’ve been sick. I find it difficult to keep up with my
other responsibilities, like posting regularly on the blog or answering my
e-mails. I want to be there for all of my readers, but it is a rare day when I
can have the quiet time needed for writing.
We have a new hospice company and more help is on the way. So
I ask all of you to please be patient with me and give me some time to get over
this sickness and get my additional help set up. If you are “jonesing” for some
of my stories, purchase my new book “That Reminds Me.” It is pleasant diversion
from all the alcohol nonsense. Use the discount code: 2FX8X5C2 when you purchase through this link: https://www.createspace.com/5620032. This code is not good on any other purchasing
site.
In my absence, there will be some guest posters with great
information and points of view. I hope you will stop by and see what they have
to offer.
Thank you everyone -- Linda
Hi. My thoughts are with you as you go through this difficult end-stage. I have trod the path you are walking and it is not easy. At least my alcoholic's end-stage was in intensive care at our local hospital, but it was still not pretty to watch. Take all the time you need to gather your skirts and deal with the onslaught. You WILL get through this.
ReplyDeleteAnother YEAR or more??? OMG, Linda - I'm so sorry. (I never thought I'd be saying that to a woman whose husband is going to live, believe me.)
ReplyDeleteTake care of yourself. We'll be here waiting to hear from you when you're ready.
Hard to image Riley has been able to hang on for this long. Maybe it's because he is oblivious to his situation. Linda all I can say is that you are 'one tough broad'! Most would have washed their hands of the whole thing by now but you have been there for Riley every step of the way. That's something to be very proud of : D
ReplyDeleteLinda. Thank you for all that you have done for me by writing your blog. My thoughts and prayers are with you as you continue your journey.
ReplyDeleteThis too shall pass. Thank you for sharing all the gory details. I seriously appreciate it.
ReplyDeleteAnother year? No. Can't be. Thinking of you.
For next time, it's possible to treat the symptoms of infection and make him comfortable without treating the infection itself with life-prolonging antibiotics. I know you're about having good information with which to make good decisions, so I thought I'd let you know.
ReplyDeleteI am sorry that you are going through this. Your compassion toward your husband is quite simply, amazing. I think you are right, alcoholics who are reading your post cannot possibly identify with your husband. They are immortal, and this is never going to them. Families on the other hand, will hear what you are saying, and hopefully be moved toward their own healing, regardless of what the alcoholic in their lives does. I wish you well on your own journey, and commend your strength.
ReplyDeleteLinda, I commend your compassion and strength as you walk this end of life journey with your husband. I agree that the alcoholics reading your post won't be able to identify, they are immortal. However, families will be able to hear you, and possibly find their own healing, regardless of what the alcoholic chooses to do.
ReplyDeleteLinda, I've been 4 years sober now (my soberversary is this coming Monday). I found your blog early on in my sobriety and your stories, with their humour and compassion and anger and heartache, helped me through some dark times. Knowing how badly I could hurt the people I love was a difficult thing to realise, but it was a crucial thing. You're right that a lot of us alcoholics might read your posts and not realise how they figure in to our own lives, but SOME of us will.
ReplyDeleteWhatever happens in the days and weeks ahead, just know that you have helped people by being so honest about your life, the good and the bad. Thank you.