Annual optimistic arrogance

Here we are. We’re here every year, year after year. There’s nothing we can do to stop it and I don’t know anyone who would want to if they could. It’s the New Year. It comes with fresh new hopes and statements of adamant changes in lifestyles. In our optimism, we have images of brighter days and calmer nights.  In our pessimism, we dread what we know in the deeper recesses of our being is the logical outcome of this bright New Year.

Each year I start out thinking that I will strive to do things differently. I will pledge to write a chapter each week in the next book. I clean out my

Another Christmas..

First off…

It’s all set. Riley will be going to the nursing home on January 4^th for five days so that I can have time to rest. I’m checking into a Courtyard Marriott on the evening of the 4^th and enjoying three nights of stress-free bless. I don’t plan on venturing outside my room.

Thank you very much to everyone who donated to make this time away a reality. If you haven’t donated and feel that it is something you want to do – just click on the donation button in the previous post. I’m still trying to pull money together to allow me to go to dinner at a restaurant or two.

Anyway… on to other things…

It’s Christmas and I usually do some kind of Christmas post. Christmas is not a fun day for families of alcoholics. Even if the alcoholic is not drinking there is always an undercurrent of the possibility of a shoe dropping at any moment. It is stress at the maximum level. Not wanting to add to that stress by reminding us of the possibilities of disaster, I decided to try posting something a little lighter.

Growing up in the 1950s in a small

Immortal... the definition of

Immortal –

Definition of immortal in English in the Oxford Dictionary:

Adjective -- Living forever; never dying or decaying

This definition goes on to say that humans are not immortal but their souls may be. I don’t think the authors of the Oxford Dictionary ever met or heard of Riley.

On Wednesday, Riley’s primary care doctor made a

Now what?

Riley had a saying that went something like “When you’re up to your arse in alligators, it’s hard to remember that your prime objective was to drain the swamp.”

That’s exactly how I feel most of the time. With all the responsibilities of being Riley’s caretaker, sometimes I lose sight of my prime objective. I actually, I seldom can remember what is my prime objective. I seem to have many and they seem to change from day to day. Maybe my objectives are layered like a pyramid.

We have received the official notification that Riley WILL NOT be entering the Veterans Hospital as a hospice patient. I don’t understand all the whys and wherefores except that his lab results are not showing any abnormalities in his liver function.

A typical day

“Where are my friends?” Riley asks almost daily. “What have you done with my money?” he accuses. “How did I get so sick?” “Why are you keeping me prisoner here?” “Get me out of this bed!”

I answer him as honestly as I can, but my answers are met with hostility. Such is the life of a caretaker of a very end-stage alcoholic. Although I’ve been told he has less than six months, I know from past experience that this could go on much, much, longer. I don’t know if my health will allow me to see this all the way through to Riley’s end.

There is a light and it is NOT an on-coming train. He might be accepted into the Vet’s Hospice Program and be placed in the hospice unit at the VA hospital. He would be allowed to stay there for six months. What a blessing that would be!

Five year journey to end-stage

On October 19, 2010 I began a blog about life with an alcoholic who seemed to defy all logically anticipated end-of-life expectations. I wrote humorous little stories detailing the absurdity of the things he did. I wrote about the past and the present, the good and the bad, the laughter and the tears. As time went on and months turned into years, I continued to write. I can’t believe that I’ve been writing for five years.

As the years past, the posts changed. I did more and more research and shared my learned knowledge with anyone who visited my pages. I thought to myself “this is good, useful stuff and should be shared in an easy to understand, easy to find format…” so I wrote the Workbook.

A few months into writing the blog, my e-mail in-box began straining at the seams

Plan for the worst

I read that a commenter took a “life expectancy” test to see how long she and her alcoholic can expect to live. I went to the website she used and did the test for both myself and Riley. I should die at age 80 and he should be dead within 3 years. I was impressed because in my gut, I think I really can live to age 80 or maybe even longer. Riley’s result didn’t surprise me at all, but, let’s not forget that he IS The Immortal Alcoholic AND he is in hospice, so all bets are off when it comes to his exit date.

I guess this test is a good one for a general ball-park for some planning. But, I find it to be a bit deceiving when it comes to determining the lifespan of an alcoholic.

Co-dependent -- a dirty word?

In my opinion, marriage is a co-dependent relationship. That’s the way it should be. The couple depends on each other as a unit in order for tasks to be completed or simply to make life easier for each other. Co-dependency works for marriages. Co-dependency is not a dirty word.

I read somewhere (I can’t remember where) that anyone who is involved with an alcoholic is most likely co-dependent. Well, that’s kinda like saying most skinny people do not like chocolate. I know lots of skinny people who absolutely adore chocolate just like I know spouses, parents, siblings, and friends of alcoholics who are not dependent on keeping the alcoholic drunk.

The word co-dependent seems to have been tossed around so much that we could just do away with “wife”, “brother”, “father” and any other relationship status titles. Kleenex is a tissue, but instead of

Leopards don't change their spots

FINALLY!

I’m finally getting back to my quirky self. I’m feeling like I have found my sense of humor and my fortitude again. It’s been a long month but it has been worth the time off. I’m over the pneumonia and my blood tests indicate I’m getting back to normal. Well – normal for me is always just a tad bit off – so I guess I’m normal for me.

Riley was in respite at a nursing home for eleven days. He also had pneumonia and a urinary tract infection. He recovered from those illnesses much faster than I did. I suppose if you have someone waiting on you hand and foot and are receiving daily visits from nurses and doctors, anyone would recover faster.

The reports from the hospice staff indicated that Riley was bright, chipper, and able to get himself in and out of bed and into his wheelchair. He was eating well and communicating during the times he was lucid, which wasn’t all that often. Everyone was pleased with how well his respite stay played out.

While Riley was in respite I had one, and only one, responsibility. I was to rest. I slept most of the time he was gone. There was no jumping out of bed fourteen times in a night nor was there screams of “HELP!” from Riley’s bedroom. No dirty underwear to change. No laundry to do. I did exactly as I was told. By the time Riley returned home, I was rested and better able to fight my own pneumonia.

He arrived home (via medical transport) late on Saturday afternoon. He was smiling and seemed happy to be back home. I made a bit of a fuss over him for a few hours. I cooked a favorite dinner of his followed by his favorite ice cream. When I wasn’t in the room with him, he would call me over and over until I appeared at his bedside. OK, I thought. He’s just wants to be sure I’m here. I understand.

Sunday was a day from hell. Riley had called me throughout the night and even though I did not run to his bedside each time, his calling left me sleep deprived. It was like that all day on Sunday and into Monday until his nurse arrived to check on him. What she said and did surprised me.

She scolded him like a little child. Then she asked why he had not gotten out of bed since he had been home. He said I would not let him. She turned to me and asked if that was true. I replied I cannot lift him and he can’t get out of bed without the physical support of another person.  She told me he had been getting in and out without anyone’s support while he was in the nursing home. He had enough strength to hold himself up and get into the wheelchair. All he needed was someone in the room to assist him, if he should start to fall. She then demanded he get out of bed and show me that he could do it. I was surprised when he did just fine without me (or anyone) helping him.

The next day, while the morning aide was here, I told Riley it was time to get out of bed. He moved himself back and forth and grunted and grabbed for the bed rails. He could not sit up by himself. I tried to assist him but he pushed against me causing him to fall back into bed. Once he was upright, we moved the wheelchair over so he could reach it. But he refused to put his feet flat on the floor or move closer to the edge of the bed. I put my arm under his armpit and tried to help him stand. He put all of his 180 pounds on my body, but refused to help himself in any way. I gave up. Got him back into bed and walked out of his room.

When the aide arrived, she once again told him to get out of bed and he did exactly as she said. WTF! Why can he get out of bed with her but makes such and ordeal with me??

I had a bit of time while he was experiencing some clarity. I took advantage of that time and asked him why he was presenting himself to be so helpless with me, but not while he was in the nursing home or when the aide and nurses were around. It took some time and lots of discussion but eventually I got my answer.

The problem was/is ME. He expressed that when I was around, it was my job to come whenever he snaps his fingers and do everything for him that he wants me to do. If I refuse to do what he wants, he will simply keep calling me and become more demanding. He says he doesn’t have to get to the wheelchair by himself simply because he wants me to get him there and if I can’t do it, he won’t get into the wheelchair at all. He wants the two of us to move back to the city and if I don’t want to move, he will be as big a problem as he can be to make me miserable until I agree to what he wants. He also revealed that he is treats me different because I won’t get him beer, wine or vodka.  I took away his booze and he is upset with me for that.

Well… that’s the most honest he has been in years! But when the conversation shifted over to him telling me that he would get Tim (his imaginary secret service security guard) to get him some booze, I knew the clarity has passed. He went on to tell me that he was treated much better when he was at the White House last week. OK – reality gone!

So you see – the problem is ME. The problem is that I haven’t abandoned him or treated him poorly. I am the focus of his anger and hostility. From my point of view, I need to minimize my involvement in his daily caretaking. I’m in the process of figuring out how to do exactly that. If I don’t, I will be sick again from pure exhaustion of caretaking him.

I remember the days when Riley would manipulate me into doing something simply by being impossible to deal with. He would put me into situations where my only option would be to put up with whatever it was he was dishing out. He would leave me stranded when I had no viable means of transportation. He would spend all his paycheck before he got home causing me to have to go to the food back to feed the kids. All the while, he would show no remorse, no regret, and there would never be an apology.

Alcoholics don’t change even while dying. 

End of life reality

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,

The one thing he knows for sure is that he wants a beer or a drink. It was suggested that we try giving him a non-alcoholic beer to placate him. We tried that and the results were a disaster. He became the narcissistic, demanding, controlling drunk that he was when he was drinking. He was drunk on the “idea” of being drunk. There was no alcohol in the beer, but drinking the beer set off that ugly personality into motion. That experiment didn’t last more than a couple of days.

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