End-Stage thankfulness...

The season is upon us. Flipping the calendar over a couple of pages, skipping December, is not going to solve the problem. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and then we are in for a month or so of celebrating. Everyone happily spends money and eats lots of unhealthy stuff. And there’s lots of booze flowing at every party.

This year, Riley and I will not be going anywhere for Thanksgiving. We’ll be having a hen instead of a turkey and small portions of everything symbolic of Thanksgiving. I’ll buy a gallon of Chablis for him and a regular bottle of Pouilly Fuse for me (of which I’ll drink about a 1/3). We’ll spend our time putting up and decorating the Christmas tree. Other than that, I’ll be sewing and he’ll be watching TV.

We had been invited to my grandson’s house for dinner with the rest of the family. But, it’s an hour-plus drive and I’m still tired from the six-hour drive back from the conference. Riley has bowel and bladder issues and refuses to wear a Depends, so that complicates things as well. My grandson’s bathroom is on the second floor and the climb for both Riley and me,  is a bit of a challenge. Staying home makes the most sense.

While other people carry on with their happy holiday attitude and make plans for the best Christmas ever, the families of end-stage are just looking forward to having it all be over. They are also planning for the holidays, but their plan resembles disaster preparedness. It’s a “what will I do if…” sort of attitude. Each invitation to a party or event is scrutinized for possible pitfalls. How much alcohol will be there? Are the other attendees aware of the alcoholic problem? Will any embarrassment cause me to have to deal with fall out? Will there be children around while everyone is toasting with Hot Buttered Rum? The answers to those questions will determine the participation and become a part of the plan.

I have found it easier to celebrate the holidays by hosting my own event. That way I can control the hours, food and beverages being served. I best event I’ve hosted was a holiday brunch where the only alcohol in the room was in the sterno burners under the chafing dishes. There was lots of sparkling cider and egg nog without the brandy. I kept it going as long as Riley wasn’t making a fuss, but the minute I saw a potential problem, I started trying to head people out the door.

Any activities outside of the brunch and family, I attended solo. When I was working in the corporate environment there were many events that were not mandatory, but an absence was negatively noticed. In the interest of my career, I went to everything for which I received an invitation. I just didn’t drag Riley with me.

When Riley and I separated, my holiday life became much, much easier. He didn’t partake of my family gatherings, so I was blissfully free of his alcoholic nonsense. I choose my dates carefully for business functions and even included a gay male friend with a Master’s Degree in Business for one holiday party. (We had an awesome time – a lot more fun than some of my straight dates!)

Riley was always invited to our family Christmas dinner at my house with the kids, but he seldom accepted the invitation. He preferred being with other drunks and his other girlfriends. We were all OK with that.

Last Christmas was the second Christmas since Riley has been back with me. I was uneasy about Riley being around everyone. He ended up wetting his pants while sitting on my daughter’s brand new white ottoman. It was snowing so hard that we couldn’t leave for two days. I was miserable. Riley was pacing like a caged tiger. When the roads cleared a bit, my son-in-law was able to take us home in his four-wheel drive. A normal hour-plus drive took us three hours. We got home safely. I was so happy to be back in my own house.

We can learn from our experiences and I will not repeat last year’s Christmas – or Thanksgiving. I will miss the excitement of my great-grandchildren running down the stairs and being surprised by the gifts under the tree. I will miss watching my 2 year old great-grandson sucking on the turkey leg. I will even miss listening to my grandson as he tries to coax his daughter into eating just a few more green beans. But, I will not miss the feeling that I must constantly supervise everything Riley is doing.

Choices are sometimes difficult. My choice is to give my family the gift of Riley-free holidays – both Thanksgiving and Christmas. I know they want me to be there. I know they will miss me. I also know that they will understand. They know I don’t make the choice easily and they are willing to compromise.

Monday is my birthday and on Sunday, the family is coming to the country to throw me a birthday party. I haven’t had a birthday party since I was a kid. I’m beside myself with excitement. New Year’s Day is on Sunday this year and, again, the kids will be here for a New Year’s Day dinner. I’ll take my birthday and New Year’s Day over Thanksgiving and Christmas – it’s a good compromise!

When I first started this adventure, I never thought Riley would be around for three more Thanksgivings. But, he’s still here. If I ask him what he has to be thankful for, he will probably say he’s thankful that I keep him supplied with alcohol. I’m thankful for too many things to list in this post. But, I will openly admit that I’m thankful that there will not be too many more Thanksgivings as Riley’s caretaker. I know that when the end is here, I will be most thankful.

If I knew...

I have been remiss at posting. I apologize. For the past four days I was in Asheville, NC at the North Carolina Writer’s Network Fall Conference. It was amazing. I learned so much that my brain hurts! But, I am back and I hope you find this post of value.

If I knew...

Riley likes telling people that he fought in Viet Nam. Well… that’s a bit of a stretch since he had broken service and the war was just approaching its full swing when he left the Navy. By the time he re-enlisted, the war was winding down. He never stepped foot on Viet Nam soil, nor did any of his submarines venture into those nearby waters.

Brain damage can manifest in many ways. For Riley, this is one way. He often shapes reality to be whatever he thinks it should have been based on whatever his criteria is for that moment. One caring person once said to me “Well, maybe he’s an alcoholic because of the stress of what he witnessed in Viet Nam.” Unless she’s talking about the pictures in Life Magazine – I don’t think that explanation fits for Riley.

There are men and women who witnessed first had the devastating effects of fighting the Viet Nam War or any other war for that matter. They were left with scars so deep no amount of cocoa butter or vitamin E oil could ever diminish. Many of these servicemen (and women) left the military and began using street drugs and alcohol to try to erase the experience from their memories. But their solution only intensified the problem.

It would take years for the term “Post Traumatic Stress Disorder” to come into our vocabulary. For the people suffering the dread of daily life accentuated by fear and anger, it was a welcome relief to know that they were not just “crazy” or “wacked out” or “shell shocked”. Their difficulties had a name which meant it could be cured. Or does it?

PTSD has far more reaching victims as we have learned more about the disorder over the years. The disorder now includes any type of extreme stress that has a negative effect on a person’s life, such as being the victim of a crime, the loss of a job or person, bullying, etc. I often wonder if I have PTSD as a result of being Riley’s caretaker. Maybe it’s why sleep is so fleeting…

I met a woman at the conference who is doing research on the subject and as we were talking she came to realize that her husband was probably an alcoholic before the PTSD event occurred. So the question became, did the event occur because of the alcoholism, or did the alcoholism become the result of the PTSD, or was there no correlation between the two. She decided she needed to do some more investigation into which came first – the chicken or the egg.

In the disease of alcoholism there can be many underlying disorders such as, depression, anxiety, paranoia, bi-polar. The question becomes, is the drinking a result of the underlying disorder or is it the other way around? I knew a man who had an anxiety disorder and as long as he took his meds, he didn’t drink. If he stopped taking the meds, he went right to the bottle. In a sense, the alcohol became his meds.

End-stage alcoholism is so frustrating in that, at this point, it doesn’t really matter which came first. We wish we had known back then that the alcoholic may have had something treatable and manageable. In essence it is the age-old, “If I knew then what I know now…” issue. Our medical and psychological researchers come up with new information everyday. Unfortunately it is too late for the end-stage caretaker to use much of it.

Why? You ask? I could be wrong (I am occasionally), but in order to use the meds or to determine if there is an underlying condition, the alcoholic would have to be sober for the period of time necessary for a diagnosis which means a potentially dangerous detox. It may be difficult to find a facility who will accept the risk and admit the end-stage.

The alcoholic would have to undergo therapy and that’s difficult when falsehoods have become a way of communication. No therapy or counseling in the world will work, if a person is unable to be honest and open.  The circle continues in that, if the alcoholic has been able to honest and open in other relationships or in AA or whatever, they may have been able to get a grasp on the addiction long ago and would not now be at end-stage. At least it would be so in a perfect world.

We end-stage caretakers could drive ourselves crazy thinking about all the possibilities. In my opinion, we are where we are and it’s best to accept the reality. We don’t have a time machine that will let us have a “do over.” Accept the choices our alcoholics have made and learn to thrive within those parameters. Be grateful that those who become entwined in alcoholism, and are not end-stage, after us may have more options, solutions, explanations. There is hope for their sobriety. That is a good thing.

For me, as I returned home to find an uncomfortable but not devastating status in the condition of my home, I think to myself – I wish I could hide in the recesses of the brain damaged insanity of Riley’s mind. But, I live in reality. There’s only room for one inside his head. It’s his space and I won’t intrude.  I wish I knew what happened in his past, childhood, school days, career, that may have lead to where he is now.

I wish I knew then what I know now.

To find out more about PTSD, visit this website offering information about PTSD at http://www.heal-post-traumatic-stress.com/. I think you may this very helpful and interesting.

Let's talk sex...

I never understood the story of the birds and bees. If a bird and a bee get it on and they have a baby is it called a biree? I never quite got the connection. I never believed babies were cultivated in cabbage patches either. If that were true, why isn’t their head all leafy and green? And I’ve never seen a stork flying through the air with a baby in its beak. Is the beak even strong enough to hold a baby? I don’t think so.

I’m not really talking about babies. I’m talking about the process of making a baby – it all starts with having sex. The majority of the time the sexual act has nothing at all to do with creating a baby. It’s about pleasure. It feels good. Sometimes it’s a purely physical thing and other times it’s an emotional communication of the depth of our affection for another. Unfortunately, I think, that when being sexual with an alcoholic, sex is more physical and not so much emotional. In my opinion, sex with an alcoholic cannot be an expression of anything other than the purely physical satisfaction of an organism or ejaculation.

Charming, baffling and powerful… I remember hearing those words over and over again when I was attending my very first family rehab groups. Riley was so very charming. He always knew just the right words to make me feel that everything would be just fine. He also knew what to say and do to get his best friends wife to fall in love with him. Simple affairs were never his forte – he had full blown out lovesick relationships. He was soooo charming that he was able to do that with several women at a time, including his wife. He was a master womanizer.

To his credit, he was darned good in bed. He knew how to make love even when he was just having sex. I was never surprised to hear that some woman was in love with my husband and there were many. For women, when a man takes his time and is fully attentive, gentle and considerate – it stops being “just sex” and turns into a loving communication. He never has to say the words “I love you.” His actions are loud and clear.

That was then, this is now. Riley wants a girl friend. He wants me to help him get a girl friend. The truth is he doesn’t really want a “girl friend.” He wants a sex partner. When I ask him what he brings to the table to a new relationship he answer is stark, but honest. “I have a big dick and a prescription for Levitra.” Well… in some women’s world, I guess that enough. But, I don’t know any.

Riley sees nothing wrong with him that he needs to change before hooking up with a woman. He sees no reason to shower or wash his hair. He doesn’t have a problem with poop drippings stuck to his legs. He isn’t bothered by the urine stains on his bedding. He has a big dick and Levitra and thinks that’s all he needs.

In my mind, Riley is a sexual predator. He preys on vulnerable women in need of some tender loving care. He’s not a screw and run kinda guy. He will keep the relationship going for as long as he possibly can while adding other women into his equation. He will eventually tell one woman about another and then not understand why the women no longer want to be with him. To him, his honesty was enough for them to want to stay. He has told me over and over, women want honesty but they don’t want the truth.  Humm… I think Riley doesn’t understand the true definition of the word honest.

Anyway, back to sex… for men, sex and alcoholism just doesn’t work. The alcohol makes it difficult for the penis to stand up at attention. Before I realized Riley was an alcoholic, I was concerned about the lack of sex in our marriage. This was before I knew about the other women. We went to a doctor and the doc said – “You can’t get it in if you can’t get it up.” I thought he was so crude that I never went back. Now I know he was so right.

I don’t know about the difficulty of having sex with a woman alcoholic. Maybe you might have trouble keeping her awake and focused. I don’t know.

I’ve always had a healthy sexual appetite. No matter my size, age or distractions, I’ve never been without sex if I truly wanted it. But, since Riley has come back into my life, I’ve had absolutely NO desire for sex. Just the mechanics of meeting someone and developing a relationship leading to sex (I don’t have sex with strangers), would be exhausting. The explanation of the situation, the scheduling of dates, all while trying to respect Riley enough not to flaunt my new attraction, it just seems not worth it.

If there had never been a separation, if we were truly a married couple, I can imagine my difficulties magnified by a million times. If I were in love with my husband, I would want a sexual relationship – it’s natural and normal. But, with end-stage, the person in that bed is not the person that stood with me at the altar and said “I do.”  If I were much younger, I think it would be even more difficult.

Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be passionately attracted to a man again. This whole caretaking ordeal has me feeling like men in general are just not worth the trouble. I know that’s not fair. Not all men are alcoholics. Not all men are cheaters. In fact, since doing this blog, I’ve “met” lots of men. I just have no desire to go there.

In a less extreme manner, I’m like Riley. I still shower, brush my teeth, keep my hair neat and am concerned with the cleanliness of my personal space. However, I no longer apply make up every morning and am not always concerned about my top matching my pants. I reserve the make up and fashion consciousness to events that are more public. You would not find the woman I am now living in my house three years ago. I would love to have that woman back, but I just don’t have the energy.

Maybe energy is the key. It takes energy to have sex and even more to “make love.” Maybe I’m just too tired to be interested. Unlike the birds and bees, which have lots of energy, I no longer want to reproduce. The real purpose of the sexual act is procreation. I don’t want to procreate. So I don’t need that much energy.

I also don’t have the energy to go traipsing through any cabbage patches nor do I want to go “stork hunting.” I think I’ll just leave all that to the birds and bees.

Attitude of gratitude...

Once a year my mother took me clothes shopping. It was the last week of August – every year for 12 years. This is when I would get the basics, such as underwear and shoes. I also got school dresses and outfits --  we didn’t wear pants to school then. I so looked forward to that day of shopping. It was a special day that was not shared by my brothers or cousins.

Our family wasn’t poor, but there were never less than six kids to outfit each school year. Money was budgeted tightly. I now know that my mother was as an astute shopper. My parents bought me three pairs of shoes each school year – one in the fall and one in the spring and a pair of gym shoes. They also bought me two pairs of “tennis” shoes from the local grocery store. If I wanted any other shoes, I had to pay for them out of the money earned through baby-sitting.

All the girls in my class were wearing flats. I wanted to keep up with the style as all girls do, so I asked my mother for a pair of flats instead of white oxfords. Of course, this was not practical because after inspecting the soles and determining how long they would last, she would say, “It’s really not a wise choice, honey.” Until my first year in high school when she surprised me by saying that she understood that I wanted to dress like everyone else and we’d find a good quality pair of flats.

I was ecstatic! I tried on at least a dozen pairs of flats. There was just one problem – my feet were so small, the only flats they had that would fit were had the convertible strap. I hated that strap. It made me feel like a baby. My body and feet may have been small, but I wanted to look like the rest of the girls. They didn’t need that stupid strap and I didn’t want it.

I reluctantly decided to go with the standard white oxfords. My mother said that we would buy the oxfords, but she promised she would make sure I got a pair of flats as soon as we found some that would fit.

As we left the store, I could feel the tears starting to fall from my eyes. My mother knelt down in front of me and said “Don’t cry, honey. Someday you’ll see that being small will be to your advantage. Someday people will think you are ten years younger than you really are. And you will smile.” I know she meant well, but I just couldn’t see that silver lining.

I think what my mother was trying to say was that I needed to be grateful for what I had. I think she meant that I needed to develop an attitude of gratitude. Things may look just really, really awful, but I needed to turn that awfulness around and be happy.

Before Riley first came back to live with me, my life was totally different. I had a job that I loved and I was telecommuting. I had a man who cared about me although we didn’t see each other as often as I would have liked. I went to parties and festivals with my friends. I cooked. I wrote but never finished a book. I watched my favorite programs and I was happy. Even though I was sad from the loss of my son, I was happy with the way things were.

I expected a change when Riley came back. I knew I would have to compromise with him and tend to him. I was prepared. But, we had interests in common 20 years ago; surely we’d have things to share as roommates. And we did share. It was difficult but not so bad that I couldn’t handle it.

When I was 14, I spent a lot of time taking care of my grandmother who was terminally ill. I approached Riley with the same attitude. I saw a dying man in need of some caretaking. That was how I treated him. It was difficult at first because we were just about to make the move across country, but there was nothing I couldn’t manage. The adjustment was hard – no more parties and festivals – no more man to come for dinner – and my TV program line-up changed. So things changed, but I still didn’t feel UNhappy.

I’m looking back now and hearing those words that my mother said about those shoes. If she were here today, she would say “See… there’s always something for which to be grateful.” She would be so right.

If I had not taken Riley back, I would still be at the job that monopolized my day. I would still be doing things pretty much the way I was. I would be happy, but would I be satisfied?

Having Riley has opened my eyes to something that I had avoided after we separated. I did a lot of research on alcoholism. If it were not for Riley, I would never have started the blog. If not for the blog, I would never have started writing The Immortal Alcoholic’s Wife or started the FaceBook page. If it were not for caretaking an end-stage alcoholic, I would never know the warm feeling of accomplishment when I get the e-mail that says I’ve helped someone through a difficult time. I would never have discovered my passion for trying to make a difference. If it weren’t for all that, I would have hated about being forced into retirement. Maybe I would be spending my days dying my hair blue and going to the senior center for bingo. Actually, I love playing bingo – so let’s forget about that.

Today, I have an attitude of being grateful for having Riley in my life. I’m grateful that he gave me fodder for my book. I’m grateful that he feeds Jade and Jax everyday. I’m grateful that he unloads the dishwasher. I’m even grateful when he is talking nonsense because he gives me a reason to snicker. Yes, he is exasperating, irritating, frustrating and he keeps me on my toes. I hate it that I’m helpless in trying to get him to make the right choices. But, I’ve learned to respect the boundary.

When Riley is gone, my life will be easier. I might even find a sweet guy that will come to dinner. I will expand my social circle. I will write the next in my series of IA books. And I will continue to be happy in this world that Riley forced me to discover.

Tomorrow I may want to wring his neck, but for today I know my mother is watching me smile.

Special message to Mary...

I have reference information for you. Please e-mail me at immortalalcoholic@gmail.com. My reader is anxious to "talk" to you via e-mail. You have much in common. -- Linda

Courage to change...

I had a slap in the face last night. I’ve been neglecting a whole segment of my readership and I want to apologize because it was never my intent. I’m talking about alcoholics who follow my blog. Many are caretakers of end-stage alcoholics; others seem to gain insight from reading what it is like for the rest of us. This post is for you – my alcoholic readers.

I had a commenter last night who wanted to know if it was safe for her to detox at home. I felt a sense of urgency in her comment. I can’t advise her to do anything. I can only suggest. But I know she needed my help. It took everything in me to not post my phone number and have her call me. Instead I urged her to call her local chapter of AA or a rehab center.

I sent out a tweet to try to find someone who could offer her more help than I did. I wanted to hear back from a rehab center that would volunteer to help her even if the help was just over the phone. I thought maybe a recovering alcoholic would respond and extend a hand. But Twitter gave me nothing. How very disappointing that was.

The help did come from two of my loyal followers and they offered the best words they could to help. I don’t know if she heard their words. I don’t know if she got the help she needed.

When I started this blog, I never really thought much about alcoholics who were not end-stage. I had enough to deal with just having Riley. I never thought I would be providing help to people who didn’t want to be in Riley’s situation. Nevertheless, here I am just now discovering that I may be able to make a difference in the prevention of end-stage. Imagine – a world where alcoholism never gets to that point!

I’m looking for a rehab center willing to work with me by providing help in the form of taking phone calls from people in crisis. By “in crisis” I mean people who are feeling a need to detox or stop immediately. I mean people who are urgent in their request for information and may want to be admitted that very same night. The alcoholic may not live in the rehab center’s locale, but a referral to a nearby center should be possible.

There is the naggy little voice in the back of my head that tells me that there would be NO money in it for the rehab center in making a referral – so why should they help? It seems that money is always the issue. How about this as a reason why all rehab centers should provide some type of assistance no matter what the financial situation is – IT IS THE RIGHT THING TO DO!  Wouldn’t it be great to dispel the idea that rehab centers are money-grubbers who are only interested in well-insured patients? What a novel idea to provide help just because you can.

That being said – if any rehab centers out there want to join me and offer support to my alcoholic followers, please e-mail me at immortalalcoholic@gmail.com. If we are a match, I will post a link to your center both here and on The Immortal Alcoholic FaceBook page.

Enough about rehab centers. If you think you need immediate help there is always AA. I’m told that if you call them, they may even send someone to your home to help you through the difficult decisions surrounding the “to drink or not to drink” question. You don’t have to be a Christian. You don’t even have to believe in God. You just need to have a desire to stop drinking. If you’re not sure if you want sobriety – talk to one of these people who have walked in your shoes. They’ve seen and heard it all. Most importantly their hearts are open to helping others. And it’s FREE!

To find a local chapter meeting there is a website that will tell you the available meetings in your area. You can find it here http://www.aa.org/lang/en/central_offices.cfm?origpage=373 .

AA also has online meetings. You don’t even have to leave your house. Just join in on your computer. You don’t have to get dressed or even brush your teeth – just go to this site http://aa-intergroup.org/.

There are other support groups that are not 12-step based. I don’t have any links to those at this moment, but would welcome any to contact me via e-mail so I may post the info on my blog.

The question of detox is difficult to answer. It is my opinion – and only an opinion – that detox should never be done at home. However, if you are only drinking a couple of shots a day and don’t have the shakes if you go a day without – maybe you can just quit. If I were an alcoholic and I wanted to detox, I would not do at home without consulting a medical professional.

Today I’m going to set up a place on my blog that supports alcoholics looking for help. It is my way of doing what I can. Is anyone else interested in joining me in this challenge?

No place like...

It is surprising how little medical doctors understand about alcoholism. Unless they attend special conferences, workshops, etc., they only receive about a week’s indoctrination into the world of alcoholism. To any doctors out there who specialize in alcoholism – please let me know if I’m correct or not. I’ve been looking for a doctor to write a post and give me a doctor’s perspective on end-stage alcoholism. Anyway…

Those of us dealing with the disease on a daily basis can probably tell our family doctors a thing or two about life with alcoholism. One thing I’ve found in writing these posts is that caretaking an end-stage or even mid-stage alcoholic is an educational experience. Even though we seem to be pushed aside, dismissed without acknowledgment, the truth is we know things – important things. The trick is learning how to have a strong vocal presence. Most of us are not bitches or bastards. We are not assholes. We are not wimps. But we need to learn to use all those traits to get us what we need – not what we want – what we need.

In this case, one of my readers is questioning her doctor’s decision to let her alcoholic husband detox at home. The doctor wants to prescribe the alcoholic Librium and visit him daily. After reading my page “The Truth About Detox,” the wife is not so sure it’s a good idea.

Librium is often used to aid alcohol withdrawal. It helps the brain’s ability to release a natural calming agent that is present in all our brains. The drug is a tranquilizer with a sedative effect. It is used to reduce anxiety, halt seizures, muscle relaxation, and as an aid to sleep.  Librium is used in alcohol withdrawal to reduce the unpleasant withdrawal symptoms. It is a controlled substance and is addictive in certain circumstances.

My reader is right – in my opinion – it’s NEVER a good idea to do a home detox. Of course, it depends on the amount of daily consumption, how long the drinking has been going on, how many times the alcoholic has detoxed before, and the physical condition. There are a lot of variables. I wonder if the doctor has asked these questions. And I wonder who gave the answers – the non-alcoholic or the alcoholic. The alcoholic will lie and the doctor will not get a clear picture of the situation. The non-alcoholic is the most reliable source for information.

Having been though many detox experiences with Riley, I can tell you that emotionally it’s harder on the bystanders than it is on the alcoholic. Whatever happens, the alcoholic will most likely not remember any of it. The non-alcoholic must come to terms with the things they hear and the abuse they receive while trying to make the alcoholic as comfortable as possible. I heard over and over again how Riley hated his children; was never sexually satisfied with me and regrets marrying me; thought both his and my parents were selfish; and the list goes on. It really doesn’t matter if he means them or not. The words are out there and no matter how much we tell ourselves that it was not the person we loved saying those things, the words hurt. Rationalizing that it was the alcohol doesn’t ease the sting. AND the alcoholic WILL NOT remember it.

Delirium Tremens (DTs) will start about 3-5days after removal of the alcohol. Riley had drugs that kept him calm or sedated during this time. But when he was awake, he imagined spiders and scorpions crawling over his bed covers. He thought aliens and spies were watching him and that the IV bags were filling him with truth serum. He had no idea where he was, who he was, who his visitors were, what year it was. It was painful to observe. I’ve learned, after several episodes, that Riley’s detox is best for me if I am not present until after this period has passed. I did not create the situation. I am not responsible for the results. I will protect myself from the abuse that may ensue by trusting the medical personnel to do what is best for him. I use this time to recharge my own batteries. And, he will remember NONE of it.

When Riley detoxed, he had IV bags and monitors. He had a nurse check on him constantly. A nurse changed his diaper and gave him sponge baths. A lab tech took his blood and urine for testing daily. Every vital part of his bodily functions were monitored. Who will do this if the detox is in a home environment? Is this to be the role the wife/husband plays? If so, how unfair is it to put them in that position? To me – it would be the ultimate slap in the face.

A detox can change direction in a second. What seems to be going along just fine, with all the proper dispelling of the alcoholic toxins, can suddenly turn into a heart attack or a stroke. What if the alcoholic slips into a coma? What if he comes through the whole ordeal just fine and the family discovers he’s been in a black out for years and has no memory of a child being born or the death of a parent that took place during those lost years.

So, to answer my reader’s question – I would not ever have Riley detox in my house without around the clock, 24/7, nurses and daily lab tech visits besides having the doctor make a house call everyday. I am not qualified for the task. Although I am a caretaker, I am not a nurse. I am a wife.

This reader is in the UK and I welcome any of my UK readers to comment with suggestions or alternatives for her. In the US, we have a plethora of centers that provide medically supervised detox. However, Riley is so advanced and has had so many near-fatal detox episodes, he can only detox in the intensive care unit of a real hospital – if I could find one that would be willing to accept the risk – which is unlikely.

In my opinion, this reader must find that strong vocal presence and direct her concerns to the doctor. Speak up. Insist that you not be put into the position of being the nurse. Don’t worry about appearing to be a bitch – if you believe your alcoholic needs hospitalization – be a bitch until you get what you need. So what if not being able to be his nurse makes you appear wimpy. Is there really any reason for you to be strong enough for the task?

You are not to blame for the alcoholism. You didn’t cause it. You are not responsible for the results. Why should you put yourself in that position if there are other options? What about what you need to aid in your own recovery? While he’s detoxing, why shouldn’t you be allowed to take care of yourself and yourself alone? Who knows when the opportunity will present itself again?

There truly is no place like home. But for detox there is no place like the hospital.

There's a pill for that...

Back in the 60s, I lived at the edge of Berkeley and many of my friends were students at the university. It was a wild time. Free love whenever and with whomever. Free flowing drugs such as “grass” and “acid”. Wine was consumed at a higher rate than water. Peace rallies and sit-ins. The establishment of disestablismentarianism. Those were the days, my friend.

For me, it was a very short time of reckless abandon. After all, I had a baby and a job. While my friends could simply skip a class, I had responsibilities. So while my friends were tokin’ on whatever, I had a couple glasses of wine and then saw to it everyone got home OK. I was the watchkeeper – the caretaker. I was one of the very few who can say, I was there, I was involved and I never participated in any of the drug experimentation.

It’s a funny thing about drugs. Most are designed to help us get though whatever medical issue we are facing and even cure certain ailments. Others are designed to generate a feeling of living in a different world – much like the “acid” of the 60s. They create a fantasy world and the only one inside the world is the user of the drug. Sometimes that fantasy world is much more desirable than the real one.

Alcohol is a drug. It may not be in pill form, but it is still a drug that gives the user and altered point of view. It can make them feel invincible, intelligent, sexy, strong and in control. The truth is they may already be all those things without the alcohol, but they just don’t believe it. The alcohol makes them feel good. When they become hooked the way out is unpleasant – detox, rehab – and believing the truth that they really are good people without the alcohol and monsters with the alcohol – is sometimes impossible to get the alcoholic to accept.

Over the years, drugs have been developed to aid alcoholics in their quest for a way out of the addiction. I think Riley has tried them all.

After Riley’s first rehab center (compliments of the Navy), he started taking Antabuse. This was the first medication approved by the USFDA in the treatment of alcohol abuse. It creates a negative reaction to drinking alcohol, so in effect it is aversion therapy. If alcohol is consumed while taking Antabuse, the alcoholic will be physically ill. I believe the most common is vomiting.

Riley is a smart guy who hates being sick in any manner. After leaving the rehab center he was required to report back to the center each and every morning for his daily dose of Antabuse. He could then proceed on to his duty station for a regular work day. It all sounded good in theory. But it didn’t take long for Riley to “outwit” the counselors at the center.

After taking his daily dose, Riley would proceed to the bar just outside the base gates. He then downed a couple of shots of scotch, go to the men’s room and vomit it up along with the Antabuse. He was then able to drink the rest of the day without incident.

The next venture into drugs for the cure of alcoholism was Campral. There has been great success with this drug which was approved by the USFDA in 2004. Campral works in the brain to restore a chemical balance. It suppresses the craving for alcohol. I have a reader who has achieved great success with this drug and after several years of use, has no desire for alcohol at all. It isn’t that he’s able to refuse the alcohol – he simply does not want it. Impressive. I say we should spike the water supply with the stuff! But… wait a minute… that may not work.

Riley was at end-stage and a last ditch effort to cure his addiction lay in the hands of an addictionologist that I had found through a family doctor. Riley was told he could continue to drink, but to take the Campral and for me to keep track of how much he was drinking. Over a period of three months, I did see a slight decrease in his consumption. But it was too little too late for Riley. He ended up in ICU and once again just barely avoided the grasp of the grim reaper.

After his release from the hospital and the nursing facility (he chose not to go to rehab), I asked if he wanted to resume the Campral as a safety measure. His answer was an absolute NO. In the most sober mind that I had seen in him in years, he declared that he did not want to be sober and if Campral would make him sober he didn’t want it.

Additionally, during the time he was taking the Campral, he was also taking Lactulose which is used in the treatment of constipation is a manmade sugar that pulls water into the colon. The addicitionologist told me that it would help move the toxins from his brain and make Riley easier to deal with when he was antagonistic. During the three months he took the laxative, Riley was even more antagonistic. He didn’t like the laxative effect because he could not make it to the toilet quick enough. He refused to wear depends and results were unpleasant for everyone. Riley fought taking the liquid and threw temper tantrums when I told him it was time for him to take it.

There are other drugs out there that claim to aid in recovery of alcohol addiction. Such as Naltrexone which blocks that “high” feeling that are obtained from alcohol consumption. USFDA approved a once-a-month injectible form of the drug. The regimine is about  a year long.

During his “sober” period, I suggested that Riley might want to give this drug a try. But, once again, he told me that if it would prevent him from “feeling” the way he feels when drinking – he would not want to take it. Riley drinks for the effect of the alcohol. He doesn’t want to stop and lose that effect.

In my opinion, these drugs probably DO work for people who truly want them to work. But there is always the same caveat – they MUST WANT to stop drinking. Riley gets some reward from staying drunk. It doesn’t matter what the reward is, it exists for him. To live without that reward is not acceptable for him. He does not WANT to stop drinking. It is very difficult to argue with his logic especially when the logic is expressed during a time when his brain is the least alcohol saturated.

Just as I did in the 60s, I am the watchman – the caretaker. I watch Riley deteriorate. I take care that he does not cause outsiders any harm. This is my role. I know it well. I don’t live in Riley’s fantasy world. Even if I were invited in, I would decline the invitation.

Sticks & stones (by Jo)

Today I have posted a contribution by one of my followers -- Jo. Her husband is an alcoholic and she is faced with the task of caretaking. Many of you already know Jo since she is very active on the Facebook page and regularly comments on my posts. Her post here, is her point of view along with some suggestions on a subject that we are all faced with -- verbal abuse from the alcoholic. Please feel free to comment.


Sticks and stones...

It’s Saturday and I’m a whore, again. Yep. Every time my husband drinks about four beers, he begins his litany. It usually happens six days a week or so now with the progression of his alcoholism. It’s almost exactly the same words every single time -- like clockwork. If I could choose what kind of whore I would be, I think I would be a high class one. Not a corner of the street one.

When I was honored by Linda to be asked to contribute a guest blog on abuse with end stage As (addicts/alcoholics), I was excited. I had no idea how hard or painful it would be. I’m shaking as I type this! Somehow, putting it in words seems so final, so accepting, and so real. I have tried several times to write this and I hope that this time I won’t chicken out!

I know I’m not alone. Lots of alcoholics are verbally abusive and they are all almost exactly the same as me. The thought of that mystifies me. What gets stuck in those brains? Something does. Some circuit, I guess. The real question is how to cope? For me, I find that taking things day by day is what helps me cope. Some days are easier than others. Some days it hurts a lot to listen to him. Some days I wonder if he knows what he is saying, why he says what he says, and what his point is. On bad days, I wonder if I’m the crazy one. I wonder if he is right and I really am a whore and just can’t see it. My reality gets skewed from so much stuff being spouted at me. I tend to pray a lot and lean on God.

What do we need to help us cope? As a result of counseling, I learned some important skills to help in managing the onslaught of insults from my husband.

I mentally separate myself from the abuser. I learned not to own the other persons issues. I know and understand that I’m a separate person and I do not allow my alcoholic to “make” me feel a certain way – his way. His statements are simply his ideas and his alone.

I learned self-esteem skills. By not owning the other persons issues, I am able to rebuild my self-esteem that his words tear down. I remind myself who I really am inside myself. I tell myself I am a good person.

I learned communication skills. I do not pour fuel on his fire. This means that I don’t try to change his mind and I don’t try to defend myself. I don’t argue, but instead I state how I feel without blaming him. An argument takes two people and I don’t take on the job of being his number two. I cannot change his mind and what he thinks is just how he thinks as a result of his own issues and addiction. It took me years to accept that fact. The more I stand fast in not taking on his anger or pain, the harder he will try to make me angry or hurt. No one person can MAKE another person feel one way or another. We all have the ability to choose how we feel and respond.

Always BE SAFE. If you think the alcoholic in your life might be physically dangerous, get away. Walk out if you have no car. Put your safety and the safety of others in your house above all else. If you feel threatened, call 911. I am fortunate that my alcoholic husband is not physically abusive, but I watch him constantly for signs of advance warning. After all, he isn’t all there mentally. He could be very dangerous.

We need support to cope. Family if you’re lucky… religion if you choose. Tend to yourself. Do nice things to recharge your energy. Do whatever works for you as much and as often as you can. I read a good book, eat some chocolate, take a long bath and listen to some good ole rock and roll. I am nice to myself!

We all caretakers need validation that we are not crazy or unreasonable. This is rare if you’re looking for that to come from counselors, doctors, and/or police officers. I have received very little from those sources. Society has a tendency to toss us aside, although I don’t know why. I find support from sites like FaceBook where I can relate one on one to others in my situation. This blog provides me with insight and reassurance that I’m not crazy. My choices are OK for me, but maybe not for other people. This is a complicated issue.

I have been surrounded by addicts my whole life. I have felt loss for many years and yet, I still do it day by day. I now look for, and feel ok about, asking for outside help. I face the mirror each day and accept what I see in the reflection. And I thank every single one of you who comment, post, reply, or just send hugs. You keep me going. I hope to somehow return this favor to you all, and help keep you going thru this journey also.

-- Jo

Next Tuesday -- Some more biology and other stuff by Linda Jane

There's always hope...

When Riley first started going to rehab centers and AA, I participated in his recovery right along with him. I attended Al-Anon as often as 4 times a week. The Al-Anon teachings became a way of life and I truly believed that things would get better. I believed that if I worked just as hard as Riley, he would get and stay sober. I heard the warnings about relapse, but I’m stubborn and I was convinced that I could prevent those horror stories from happening to my family. I had so much hope for our future.

But, each time Riley relapsed and each time he went into rehab, I had less hope that he would be able to achieve sobriety in the long term. Rehab just became a way for him to get some time off work. After the first rehab, he never once said he wanted sobriety. He just wanted to do whatever he had to do to keep his boss and me off his back. The only way a recovery program can work is if the alcoholic truly wants sobriety. Riley did not and made no excuses for it. Any hope I had for our future as a loving couple, disappeared with the realization that it was not what Riley wanted.

There’s a song by Dusty Springfield that was popular in the mid 1960’s, it’s Wishin’ and Hopin’. The essence of the lyrics is that simply wishing and hoping and thinking and praying, planning and dreaming won’t get you what you want. Of course, she’s talking about getting the man of your dreams to love you. I’m talking about getting the man of your dreams to remain sober. There’s a point in time when the sober one realizes that he/she can’t just do all that wishing stuff and add incredible amounts of hope and get the alcoholic to truly want sobriety. There is no hope strong enough that will create that desire. Eventually, with each failed rehab and every near-fatal detox, hope leaves the equation. That’s the reality of end-stage.

There is a turning point in relationships with alcoholics. It is the point when the alcoholic becomes end-stage and requires caretaking. It happens so subtly that it almost goes unnoticed by the person who becomes the caretaker. Often the caretaker is a spouse or parent. We non-alcoholics, go about our daily routine making adjustments along the way. We don’t even realize how many adjustments are being made until we have that “Ahh-Ha!” moment that all we ever do is make adjustments for the alcoholic.

The beginning of caretaking can often start the same way. The alcoholic gets sick and we take care of him/her. We don’t know if they have the flu or cancer – all we know is that this other part of our partnership is ill. It is perfectly normal to take care of our sick loved ones. It’s how we are wired as humans. Relationships are based on give and take of support, understanding, and "standing by" when things are not-so-good. If one develops cancer, the other does not walk out, but rather provides nursing and aid to promote recovery. Because we don’t know for an absolute certainty that the alcohol is the illness – it could be cancer -- we take care of them the best we can.

Eventually we have another “Ahh-Ha” moment and realize that the drinking is the culprit that has turned the person we loved into the mental state of a child that would require a baby-sitter if left alone. But, we missed that turning point because we were so busy trying to keep our heads above water that we didn’t see there was a plug in the drain. We are now in so deep, getting out seems impossible. Because we would not turn a cancer patient out into the street. We took a vow. We promised. We are morally bound to provide a safe haven in sickness and health.

Have you ever bought a bag of M&M’s and thought to yourself, I’ll just eat a couple now and save the rest for later. You pull out a couple of the candies and, with the open bag in your hand, you begin talking on the phone. When the phone call is over, you realize you’ve eaten the whole bag. You didn’t even realize you were doing it. The bag is empty. It’s much the same for the non-alcoholic caretaker. We just do a few things for the alcoholic and then the next thing we know, our lives are taken over by seeing to their needs.

Faced with the realization that we are now the caretaker, we still have a tendency to fight the idea that our alcoholic is in fact, end-stage. We take them to the doctor for some kind of diagnosis that would make everything more understandable. We want some kind of medical plan that will help us in our effort to “normalize” our situation. But the only plan any doctor can offer is detox and rehab and the alcoholic refuses. We are left with an impossible decision without any satisfying outcome. The next “Ahh-Ha” moment is when we know that our alcoholic is in fact terminal. The alcoholic is dying. We do the humane thing – we provide a soft place for them to die.

My uncle had lung cancer. He was dying with just a few days left on his calendar of life. He wanted a cigarette. He asked me over and over to get him one. But, I was adamant not to give it to him. When his doctor entered the room, my uncle told him he wanted a cigarette. The doctor told me to take him to the smoking courtyard and give him what he wanted. I was shocked. But, the doctor made perfect sense to me when he said, “Your uncle is dying. Nothing he does now will stop that. Make him happy and give him the damn cigarette.” I complied with my uncle’s request.

I was also shocked to hear Riley’s doctor tell me that I had to make sure he had plenty of alcohol. It was contrary to everything I had ever been told. But, the doctor explained that to take away his supply now would lead to a very certain and unpleasant death. He went on to say that Riley was dying. At this point nothing I, nor the doctor, can do will stop the process. Much like my uncle’s cigarette request, I complied with Riley’s need for alcohol to keep him from having that quicker, more painful death from the ensuing DT’s.

End-stage caretakers do what we feel is humane. We make a choice and although it may seem unpalatable to others – our decision is ours alone to make. Those who have an end-stage alcoholic in their home will understand the struggle we have endured just to make the choice. None of the options have desirable outcomes. It’s like choosing between “bad” and “really bad”.  Most end-stage caretakers choose the “bad” choice while wishing and hoping for a quick end to the pain and suffering the alcoholic causes for himself and others in his life. The only HOPE we are left with is the hope that the end will be quick.

The next time you are talking to an end-stage caretaker, instead of passing judgment or being critical – try saying this: “I hope for a quick resolution of your situation. I may not have made the same decision as you, but I respect how difficult it was for you to choose a path.”

We all always have HOPE, but your HOPE may look different from my HOPE.