His dying breath

I’m sitting here tonight at my computer wearing my little rosebud jammies (a Christmas gift from my grandkids last year), a scotch on the rocks (yes, you read right – a scotch), and a box of tissue. In the background my dog, Jade, emits as soft snore while sleeping on the coach which is forbidden to her. The other end of the forbidden coach is my cat, Benny, who is purring as he cleans up from the day. It’s peaceful here in my living room which is also my make-shift office.

A sip of the scotch reminds me of my early days with Riley when he always wanted a Johnnie Walker Gold on the rocks when he arrived home from work. On our meager budget, it was a splurge, but one that Riley insisted upon every night. He would only have one. That was before. That was before the drink became more important than his life or his family or his work or anything else.

Tonight I sip this scotch in honor of the life he left behind to pursue a career in drunkenness – in which he excelled. I can hear his shallow breathing as he lay in his bed not really sleeping but not really comatose either. There is no heavy snoring like there was during the days when we shared a bed. He is peaceful.

Maybe it’s the cocktail of Haldol and Morphine that has him in such a gentle state. A few hours earlier he was throwing his fists and threatening bodily harm to anyone who even showed an attempt to touch him. There was nothing quiet about him screaming obscenities at our pastor as we recited, at Riley’s request, the Lord’s Prayer.

Although his heart is beating and his lungs are working, there doesn’t seem to be anything behind his eyes. No brown eyes with twinklings of mischief or a tell-tale expression of some plot to be executed. His face is pale and yellowish, but not as a jaundiced person. It’s more like he hasn’t bathed or showered and the sweat has left a patina on his skin.

Everyone once in a while his muscles twitch in spasms. It looks like it would hurt, but he’s on so much morphine he probably couldn’t feel a jack hammer to his ribs if one were there. His arms and legs are cold to the touch. The hospice nurse tells me that it’s normal at this stage of his degeneration.

Everyone has left to go to their respective homes and beds. They’ll be back in the morning to help me get through another day. I’m alone waiting for Riley to die. When they are here there is nothing for me to do. I’m told to rest. But, I can’t. So I go to my FaceBook friends who have no idea what’s really going on at this house. I post little comments, stir up a little trouble, ask stupid questions, I occupy myself. The people closest to me in my life are not available. Carrot has lost her phone. Another friend is busy working and caring for her kids. A long-time friend isn’t speaking to me because of a very heated argument that took place a couple of days ago. None of them know and I won’t tell them or can’t tell them that I’m alone and listening to my husband die. I won’t tell them I need them because – I am a strong, confident, independent woman who doesn’t like wallowing. I have an image to uphold. I am my own worst enemy.

So let’s just talk a minute about Riley being my husband. If you are familiar with this blog you will know and understand that we have been estranged for a very long time. I am his wife, but not his lover. Yet, the memories of the good parts of our life together – and there really are some – come flashing back in full force. It could be because I’m in the middle of writing the sequel to the Immortal Alcoholic’s Wife. My writing self must channel Riley in order for me to write the book. I must also channel the Linda who was once a loving, faithful wife. It makes it difficult to sit here, drink a scotch, and listen to that slow, but steady, breathing.

Riley being on the edge of death is not a new experience. The family has sat vigil for him so many times that only a few pay attention when things go downhill. He is seemingly immortal. It’s like a big joke that he plays on anyone who cares about him. Like a boy who cries wolf. This time it’s different. This time we know he has developed sepsis. This time we can see that he is dying before our eyes. It’s unsettling.

There is nothing to be done. I will try to sleep in my bed, in my room, where I cannot hear what’s going on in Riley’s room. I have pills to help me sleep, but they probably shouldn’t be mixed with the scotch. The first thing I will do in the morning is check to see…

Outside the box

Since October 2010, I’ve been writing this blog offering support, explanation, resources and even a bit of humor. The blog has won awards and even led to participation in an HBO documentary. There has been heartbreak and heartache, frustration and accomplishment. From the e-mail I receive, it seems I have helped alcoholics as well as the people who love them. The journey has been satisfying and awakening. I’m happy with what this blog has accomplished.

My foundation has always been about creating positive change for the families and friends of alcoholics. I like to hear from readers that they love my blog but don’t “need” it anymore. Those are welcome words to my ears because it means that person was listening and learning. That person has come to a place where a life outside the chaos is a reality. It means I’ve been successful. Hallelujah!

Change is something I’ve written about many times. Everything changes. Nothing stays the same forever. That includes the Immortal Alcoholic Blog. Don’t panic! I’m not taking it down but I am going to be going in different directions. It won’t be going in just one direction; it may be many directions at one time. The entire scope has not been completely worked out in my head. But look for posts that are not alcohol related and you will see the change.

I have grown because of this blog. I have found my life outside the chaos and I like what I’ve found. It’s been good for me and the next seven years will be just as good. What can you expect?

Expect to see more guest posts. Expect to hear about current changes in my life. Expect to see information about books I’ve written and other books that I think are important for my followers. Continue to expect sharing of resources, support, and information.

Let’s get started…

Riley now has a full-time aide. Having her is awesome because he no longer calls for me every five minutes. When the aide is here, we behave as though I am not anywhere on the property. He becomes totally dependent on her and I’m free. This is the next best thing to having him in a nursing home.

Freedom – I am now leaving the house whenever I want. I go to the gym, library, historical society, and well… anywhere I want. I actually went to lunch with my daughter. Amazing! People are actually out and about during the day. I think I’d forgotten about that.

Outside my comfort zone is a wonderful world of new experiences. Like, writing a romance novel. I never in a million years thought I, a romance cynic, would write a book about love. But, I am and it’s working. It’s scary, but it’s working.

Speaking of being outside my comfort zone, I find that I’m starting to think of romance differently. Previously I never wanted another man in my life – ever. I was done with hearts and flowers, love letters and cards, and, anything else that would tie me to another man. Now, I’ve been presented with a new possibility that I had never dreamed would become anything worthwhile.

Let’s put it this way, I bought a razor to shave my legs… the hair on my legs hasn’t been in danger of termination for many years. Why bother? I usually wear long pants and who would care? Now that extra step in the shower of shaving my legs has become important to me again. Who knew that would ever happen? Not me! And guess what, I’m happy about not having hairy legs!

Change is inevitable. It’s going to happen no matter what, so why not sit back and enjoy what can be ahead. If the change is in a direction you don’t like, then change the direction. Detours are only detours and they usually are not permanent. So carve your own path and let the change begin!

Rock Bottom

The post below was written by a blogger who asked me to check out her blogsite. I found it to be exceptional. Please read the post below and then follow the link to her website.

The Bottom of the Bottle

Suggested pairing: Rock Bottom

2 ounces vodka

2 ounces tequila

2 ounces gin

⅓ ounce lemon juice

⅓ ounce lime juice

⅓ ounce pineapple juice

 Pour vodka, gin, lemon juice, lime juice and pineapple juice over ice.  Shake well until chilled and combined.  Strain into martini glass  Slowly pour in tequila.  Cheers, you’ve hit bottom.

Over the decade-plus that I’ve been, in one way or another, directly or inadvertently, coping with another’s alcoholism, I’ve heard the phrase “rock bottom” more times than I can count, and enough times to make me sick.  It’s come up in conversations with friends, disagreements with former family members, sessions with therapists, and sharings in Alanon meetings.  

Here’s what I’ve learned about rock bottom:

Rock bottom, as the Cambridge Dictionary defines it (and they seem to be a pretty credible source for words and shit) as an informal noun meaning the lowest possible level.  With regard specifically to alcoholism and addiction, the term rock bottom is often employed when an individual has devolved into a financial crisis, lost a job, destroyed a marriage, landed in jail, wrecked a vehicle, become violent, went cruisin’ for a bruisin’, rehabbed then relapsed, lost custody of a child or, in this case, all of the above.  Basically, it’s the type of place you’d never want to travel, the level of toxicity you wouldn’t wish on your enemy, and a sort of existence comparable to wearing a wool sweater over poison ivy while having to take a massive shit in an airplane bathroom surrounded by disgruntled flight attendants, wailing babies, passengers with significant body odor and, of course, snakes.

Rock bottom, as it is advertised in brochures and on television, is essentially a self-inflicted hell so deplorable that an individual vows never to return.  It’s brutal and pathetic and excruciating and shameful and lonely and bleak and endless. According to Google Maps, it lies at a proverbial fork at the end of a long road full of bumps and littered with denial and bullshit, where going left takes you to recovery and going right takes you to the mortuary.

Here’s what else I’ve learned about rock bottom:

Rock bottom is a myth.  

It’s a fantasy, a legend for alcoholics that is kept an arm’s length away, just close enough to intimidate and just far enough away to mediate.  It’s something that happens to dirtbags and losers and criminals, not high-functioning, upstanding, classy drunks who are “fine”.

Rock bottom is a unicorn, a false hope and a mirage for family members and loved ones.  It’s a broken promise that eventually things are going to get better, even after getting worse, and that someone they love will experience an imminent epiphany, miraculously turning their life around to be the walking ray of sober sunshine they were always destined to be.  It’s a futuristic event never present on the calendar, yet ever-present in the mind, that we wish for and pray for and cry for, but almost never arrives, because when it comes to a raging alcoholic, sometimes their bottle has a false bottom.

Rock bottom is bullshit.

Alcoholism, as I have come to understand it from my colorful experience in dealing with someone enveloped completely in its wrath, can become a perpetual cycle of destruction marked by big mistakes, bad behavior and bold-faced lies, all of which stem from a nearly impenetrable layer of denial, so thick that not friends nor family nor God himself are capable of breaking, because it is a one-sided mirror that people choose not to gaze into for fear of their own reflection, shatterproof from the outside-in but, from the inside-out, is able to cracked by choice and desperation and self-preservation, much like a fire extinguisher behind protective glass in the center of a massive blaze.  

Believe it or not, I have come to understand and somewhat sympathize with the plight of making a choice to surrender to this disorder, to accept responsibility and to begin the arduous process of recovery and rebuilding one’s life from the bottom up.  

When an existence has become so empty, so devoid of connection and meaning, it may seem too much and too late to change.  

But it isn’t.  Ever.

When bills have piled so high and expectations fallen so low, convictions become so frequent and meaningful relationships so rare, hope seems lost and only troubles can be found, it may seem like it isn’t even worth trying.

But it is.  Always.

To read the entire post go to: http://www.mehab.website/?p=281

Easier?

It’s been a very long road from the time I took Riley back in until today. He’s still alive. Hes still wants a drink or two or three or more. Things don’t change while they are changing. Nothing has gotten any easier along the way.

I thought I’d get used to all the drunken chaos, the household mess, the ridiculous rantings and demands. I thought I’d just ignore it and move along through my day. After all, he is my estranged husband and hadn’t really been a part of my life for more than 15 years. I can handle this, I thought. Everything would be OK.

As Riley became less “sick” and more drunk, things did not get better. I tried to ignore it. He was like that roommate that constantly drank all the milk or used up all the clean towels. He was like the child who refused to pick up after himself or clean his room. But, it was OK, I thought… he’d fall prey to his addiction soon and I’d have my house and life to myself again.

I kept my personal life personal and did not involve him in any decisions at all. I provided with him with what he needed and didn’t begrudge the money it cost. I maintained my previous friendships but seldom had them over to visit. I was starting to lose a grip on my social life.

Auto-pilot never kicked in gear. I got to a point when I realized I was simply “getting through” each day. Riley would get sick, go into hospice, and I’d think… “The end is near. I can have my life back.” I would make plans and reconnect with old friends.. and then… he would pull through to torment me another couple of years. Each near death encounter sent me deeper into the role of caregiver and less into the role of being myself. Finally, I had no idea who I really was. I had no identity of my own. I was just Riley’s caregiver.

Now, 9 years later, I still have times when I don’t know who I am. Thanks to the family and friends who have encouraged me to find my voice, I have managed to start this blog, write the books, collaborate with HBO on Risky Drinking, and tell it like it is. But, Linda is still someone I’m rediscovering outside the chaos. Linda is rediscovering who she is and what she wants. It’s a soul-searching task.

So, my anonymous friend, to answer your questions, I’m sorry to report that it never gets any easier. Your only saving grace is if you are able to hold on to who you really are so you don’t become lost through this process.

“Surviving the Chaos” was written with people like anonymous on my mind. It’s available on Amazon. Get it today for the low price of $10. Here’s the link:

https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_2?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=Linda+Doyne%2C+Surviving+the+Chaos

COMING SOON! The sequel to “Immortal Alcoholic’s Wife.” In the sequel to my journey through the chaos, you will learn about Riley’s childhood and family dynamics. Discover his Navy adventure and how it played a big part in his inability to completely rehabilitate. This new book picks up where “Immortal Alcoholic’s Wife” left off. See how far we’ve come. Look for it on Amazon before Christmas.

In the meantime, refresh your memory by reading The Immortal Alcoholic’s Wife. Get your copy here:

https://www.amazon.com/Immortal-Alcoholics-Wife-1/dp/1502984083/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1502283459&sr=8-1&keywords=Linda+Doyne%2C+Immortal+Alcoholic%27s+Wife

A living hell...

I met Matt Paust way back in the 1980s when he was a reporter. Over the years, he has retired from the news biz and became an author of political satire novels. Matt has changed his direction to writing poetic rhetoric – poems of a sort. Sometimes when I read what he has written, his words strike a chord deep inside me. I feel he has found his words hidden away in some far corner of my heart or brain.

The poem I’m posting today is a man talking about a woman but it could easily go the opposite way. For me, it explains how I feel how my life has gone with Riley. I’m sure many of you will relate. However, it’s like anything else, you will either like it or not.

Seconds

By Matt Paust

You sit there, eyes on the floor where she just walked
hell, you think, that's what it is, hell
it's written on your face, you know, the hell
she's made your life a hell, a living hell
is what you're thinking

The charm you thought she meant for you alone
you found
more commonplace than you should know
her whimsy frightens you
you wrap your heart in wrath and hurl it back

Life with her has come to this
denied mistrust entwined with covert scorn
homicide at times worms through your thoughts, wriggles out fleeing
memories of fleeting seconds when true smiles
yours, hers, joined in fierce implacability

I'll be posting more from Matt in the days to come. Be sure to leave a comment and I will pass it on to him.

A Living Hell...

In my first book, The Immortal Alcoholic’s Wife, I strive to show the contrast between Riley, the loving husband and father, as opposed to Riley, the drunken bastard. Back in the day, I loved Riley. Maybe I still do, but I do not love what alcoholism has done to him, his attitudes, his morals, his and my life. Riley doesn’t make my life a living hell – alcoholism does. I don’t hate Riley. I hate alcoholism. I don’t hate my life. I hate how alcoholism has changed my life.

It’s sad that the end stages of Riley’s alcoholic life have destroyed so much in my life. It’s even sadder that I allowed it to happen. I did what most every wife does when faced with alcoholic chaos. I didn’t know any different and no one, or any group, really seemed to help me figure it all out. Now that I have it figured out, I wonder if it is too late. I’m praying that it is not.

Riley is back in hospice and, for about the tenth time, the family is waiting for the grim reaper to knock on his bedroom door – or maybe climb through the window – descend from the ceiling -- whatever. Actually, the only person waiting is me. No one believes he is really going to make an exit. After all, he IS the Immortal Alcoholic.

As I’m waiting, I’m having fantasies about how I will manage the new life that is just beyond my fingertips. I imagine a life that is not a living hell. I imagine being able to eat a whole meal without interruption or not being called when using the bathroom. My fantastical mind ramblings take me to France and a tasting tour through the countryside. And then I remember – he IS the Immortal Alcoholic.

I believe God is testing my patience. OK God! Even the SAT’s have a time limit!

Coming soon!!!

The Immortal Alcoholic's Wife -- Part 2, The Update

Stress is a killer

About ten years ago I had a heart attack brought on by stress. These are the steps I used to help myself heal:

1. I made a list of the things causing me stress.

2. Every time I got upset or angry over a specific situation, I wrote it down and included it in my list.

3. I examined each item on my list and categorized it as:

a) something that can be resolved via an action by me;

b) something over which I had no control;

c) something that time will resolve.

4. The items that were the things that could be resolved by taking action were categorized by the least stressing to the most stressing.

5.  I worked on resolving one issue at a time. I started with the one that required the littlest effort and went from there. This list is never-ending. There will always be something that gets added on with resolutions that require time, money or emotional expense.

6. The stresses over which I have no control, I pushed aside thinking I would come back to them after I had dealt with all the more pressing stuff.

7.  Resolutions which simply involved letting some time pass, were also pushed aside. Actually, I wrote them on a calendar as a reminder. When the calendar reminded me of the item, I would check to see if the issue had been resolved. If not, it went back on the calendar.

One of the biggest things I learned in my heart health recovery, is to take time for laughter. Find humor every chance you can. Laugh. No, I mean, LAUGH your butt off! Laugh at the backed-up traffic because it allows you some time to listen to great tunes while you’re waiting. Laugh at the price of a new car because you don’t really have to spend that much money. Laugh at political speeches because of the ridiculousness of statements being made Laugh at everything and anything. Every time you laugh, you physically release stress.

My basic personality is to fix things. People call on me to help them with their problems all the time, but really all I can do is listen, suggest and encourage. What I really want to do is take the responsibility from them and do what they should do themselves.

For example, a friend has a bestie with serious health problems. The bestie had some medical tests done and has received the results. The friend calls to check on her and wants to know the test results in order to provide the support the bestie needs. But, the bestie is dodging her calls and ignoring her texts. The friend is very concerned and desperately wants to help the bestie. She asks me what she should do. My response… get in your car, drive to her house and don’t stop knocking until she answers the door. You’ll have your answer when you see her face. That’s when you will know what to do.

What I really want to do is go to the bestie house myself and ask her what’s up. Tell her to get over herself and let others help. However… her illness is not my circus and her test results are not my monkeys. I cannot interfere with this relationship. They must figure it out on their own.

Figuring it out is the hardest part. Most of the time there are many optional answers to a situation. It’s difficult to discover which is the right one.

If you’re dealing with excess stress in your life, take control and resolve everything that you can. Stress will kill you as much as a speeding bullet. Cover your heart with a Superman cape and ricochet those bullets to oblivion. You’ll be happy you did.

Change is in the air

There’s a big change going on out here in Rileyville. Good changes are knocking at my front door. I was informed that I would have an aide for at least 30 hours a week and respite time. Evidently the Medicaid application was approved however I wasn’t notified until yesterday. Sounds like heaven to me! After eight years of taking care of Riley, I will finally turn him over to someone else and have some time to myself.

I have always said that in spite of what’s going on in my life, I am happy. Today I feel excited about having the opportunity to take my life back. I am happier today that I have been in a very long time.

This weekend I am moving my office upstairs where I will not be able to hear whatever is going on with Riley. I’ll get a baby monitor so I can talk to the aide but it will not be in Riley’s room. I’m anxious to see how this is all going to work out.

There’ve been a lot of changes in my life lately, but isn’t that how life is? Without change we cannot grow. I recently re-connected with a friend that I hadn’t talk to in nearly twenty years. She was surprised at certain things about me. I was once a sweet, quiet woman who always did as she was told. I was a follower. Now I’m a tell-it-like-it-is kinda gal. I’m open about my life, my needs, my outlook. I am certainly not quiet, in fact, sometimes people want me to shut up. I’m leading my pack and making things happen instead of waiting to see what’s going to happen.

Change is inevitable. We can count on it. Sometimes it’s good and other times it’s not so much. One thing is for sure, we must deal with it when it comes along.

Most of the time we won’t even know we are changing. One day we will just realize that something is different. Embrace it and know that even not-so-great changes can have their advantages. Seek out that advantage and make use of it.

If I had not had the major change in my life by taking Riley back in, I would not have started this blog, written my books, helped produce the HBO documentary. I would still be working in an office cubicle doing real estate title exams. Not that that would be a bad thing, but my life is more purposeful since starting this blog. Of course, I’ve had really awful experiences with Riley, but one of my changes is to not focus on those times. I need to let them go.

What I am saying to you is to stay positive in spite of chaos around you. How do you do that? You keep your own life in sight. The alcoholic is responsible for his/her life and you are responsible for yours. You only have enough room in your life for the things that are relevant to you personally. I love the line “Not my circus, not my monkeys.” Stick to your own circus and deal with keeping your own monkeys under control. Make this change in your life so that your life will change.

Fear Scale

Fear can be a good thing. It prevents us from putting our hands into an open flame. It makes us think twice before acting on something that may be dangerous. It’s that little voice in our head telling us to turn left or right or to not turn at all.

I believe there is a “fear scale”. At one end is the mild feeling of apprehension – like crossing a busy street. At the other end if full blown paranoia – like believing the boogey man is hiding in the closet. Too little fear can be just as dangerous as too much.

As the wife of an alcoholic, I can tell you that I have many fears that range all up and down the fear scale. Here is a sampling.

The fear that my husband will make a miraculous recovery and go back to drinking;

The fear that he will make the same recovery and not go back to drinking;

The fear that he will die a painful death;

The fear that he will never die;

The fear that I will die before him;

The fear that I will never have a sane, happy, loving man in my life;

The fear that I will have someone in my life that will become ill and I have to take care of him;

The fear that someone will come into my life and I will be the one who becomes sick;

The fear of living out the rest of my life alone;

The fear of trust;

The fear of not trusting;

The fear of losing myself by being what someone else wants;

The fear that I’m deceiving myself by thinking I really know who I am;

The fear of being unacceptable or not being accepted;

The fear that becoming accepted means I have to change;

The fear of not being heard;

The fear of being heard but misunderstood;

And the list can continue on and on…

What has worked for me is to take each fear as it rears its head and address it in the moment that it is happening. But, I’m a procrastinator so my timing is often way off which means I just plunge head first and worry about the consequences later.

I refuse to let all my fears rule my life. I have a fear of cutting myself when chopping vegetables, so should I never include vegetables in my recipes? No – I chop the damn vegetables and keep a box of bandages close at hand. I weigh my options. Is the fear of doing something greater than the fear of not doing something?

The point of this post is to suggest to you that you not let your fears stop you from fulfilling your dreams. Sort out your good fears from your bad fears, keep track of where they are on the fear scale and then live a full and complete life.

Life doesn't always mean living

For more than 20 years I longed to have my husband stop his alcohol abuse, but he never managed to find a way to love sobriety. Too many times the family gathered by his bedside and held a death watch expecting him to expire within minutes. He always survived.

In 2012 he had a major heart attack that would have stopped life for most normal people. But, then, he is not normal. After weeks of watching him go downhill, he finally started recovering. He made it through although his life would change greatly because he would not be able to obtain alcohol. Finally, I had my wish. I had a sober husband and I expected things to change for the better.

Be careful what you wish for. He was home and he was sober. He also had brain atrophy which left him with a form of dementia. He was able to walk, feed, dress and care for himself. He could not hold long conversations. Clearly, he was miserable with this new lifestyle. Still… I did not buy alcohol for him.

He has gone on a slow descent ever since his heart attack. Five years later, he is completely bedridden and dependent on me for every bit of care. I’m in control of everything in his life from what he eats to the changing of his underwear. The biggest decision he must make each day is what he is going to watch on TV. Although, he can no longer change the channels without assistance.

I have my husband. I have a person in my home who looks like my husband but there is no conversation, no laughter, no exchange of ideas, there’s just a fog of unhappiness. I got what I wanted – a sober husband – but this is not how I imagined it.

Riley’s life is empty. It is as though he is being held captive. I’m told he can live in this physical and mental state for many years. He longs to go to a bar and get wasted. He wants to drive even if he is drunk. He wants his old life back. The life that has him consuming a gallon of vodka a day and endangering others on the highway is the life he wants. He doesn’t long for a life with me or close family ties to his grandchildren. He doesn’t want to go on road trips or socializing with sober people. He wants to be drunk. He wants to die drunk.

The next time you are in the emergency room because your alcoholic is vomiting blood or some other such ailment, don’t be so quick to decline a DNR or hospice. Think about Riley and his self-imposed prison and my prison-term as his caregiver. Life at any cost is not always a life at all. 

How ya doin'

When I come upon someone I know, either by accident or design, the first thing I say after “hello” is “How are you?” I expect to hear back that the person is fine or that things have been rough. The conversation proceeds on from there. “How are you” feels like a natural segue into a deeper exchange.

Over the past eight years, I have been taking care of Riley and it has been a chore to say the least. My own physical and emotional health have gone downhill. There has been a host of people in and out of the house whose sole purpose was to help me with the care giving responsibilities and relieve some of the stress. Everyone who has helped has been awesome.

People who talk to me always start out the conversation with the phrase “How ya doin’?” I’m asked that question on the average of five times a day from well-meaning, concerned individuals. Riley asks the same question at least four times a day. It feels that everyone is always asking how I’m doing. It gets exhausting repeating the same answer over and over again. I try to keep it short – “I’m OK.”

How am I doing? Well, that fluctuates from hour to hour and even, sometimes, minute by minute. It depends on what and/or who I’m dealing with at the moment or what answer I’m waiting for each given day. There’s Medicaid, Veterans Administration, social workers, nurses, doctors, friends and family who are constantly asking questions and/or concerned for my well-being.

Decisions that need to be made bombard me daily. All the while, I must go to Riley when he calls me 4 or 5 times an hour. I must answer his questions on things that have no answers.

How am I doing? I’m frustrated, confused, tired, sick and I don’t want to explain the reasons behind the emotions every single day, over and over again. I’m not doing well. Can we just leave it at that?

Riley continues to s..l..o..w..l..y decline. His declining only creates more work for me.

I’m tired. I need a vacation where “how ya doin’” means “Can I get you a fresh ice tea?” Yes, a vacation would certainly help. Maybe a short cruise or a stay at a mountain resort. But, it will have to wait until Riley is gone and I won’t have to pay for a sitter for him.  Anyway… it doesn’t matter what I need… I’ll continue to be “doin’” the same way I’ve been doin’ for a long time now. It will get worse before it gets better.

Take two and if you live...

I recorded and saved the HBO documentary “Warning: This Drug May Kill You” which was directed by Perri Peltz who was one of the producers of Risky Drinking.  I wanted to watch it at a time when I would not encounter any interruptions by Riley or the telephone. I waited until after 10 p.m. when the house was quiet.

In the back of my mind I was thinking this film was just another warning not to do drugs. I’ve seen so many of these types of films on drugs and alcohol that I wasn’t really looking forward to seeing it. I thought… what can I learn from this film, probably nothing.  But, I couldn’t ignore a film directed by my friend, Perri Peltz. I was so very wrong to have doubted the film’s power. Within the first very scenes, I could feel my need for a box of tissues and a punching bag representing pharmaceutical companies.

Warning: This Drug May Kill You is a different approach to the drug epidemic our country currently faces. I didn’t understand that most people addicted to opioids became addicts through no fault of their own. It isn’t always someone using drugs for recreational purposes during parties or to be a part of the crowd. Instead it starts with a prescription from a doctor who wants to help the patient ease the pain after an accident or surgery. It was all so innocent in the beginning. The end is a completely different story.

The film contains four different story lines, with the same underlying theme:

A mother of three, Wynne was prescribed opioids after a painful C-section. Ex-husband Britt remembers that as she became addicted, “Doctors were just throwing pills at her [and] she became a totally different person.” In 2008, with Wynne in her tenth rehab facility, Britt filed for divorce. Though Wynne, who shared custody of her children, made an effort to be in their lives and appeared to be getting better, a bout with kidney stones found her leaving the hospital flush with pain meds. Her teen sons found her in bed the next morning, an overdose victim.

Teenager Brendan was prescribed opioids following surgery to remove a cyst; four years later, addiction claimed his life. His parents, Brian and Gail, had supported his efforts to get clean. Fresh out of rehab, however, Brendan overdosed, and was revived by Narcan – a drug that can reverse heroin overdose, but often leaves addicts more vulnerable. Unaware of the withdrawal symptoms he was facing, Brian and Gail were devastated to find their son collapsed in his bedroom, having overdosed again, this time fatally.

David and his wife, Judy, are still reeling a year after the loss of their daughter Georgia to an overdose. Her story is all too common: After suffering a back injury, Georgia was prescribed heavy painkillers, and soon graduated to heroin. On Thanksgiving, David found Georgia comatose in the living room, with a syringe nearby.

Suffering from kidney stones at age 16, Stephany was treated with Dilaudid, Oxycontin and Vicodin. She ended up sharing the pills with her older sister, Ashley, and when their supply was abruptly cut off, both turned to heroin. Stephany vowed to get clean after Ashley fatally overdosed, but the process has been difficult. With her mother’s support, Stephany enters “A Way Out,” a 30-day state-sponsored rehab program involving local police departments

I was proud to be a part of the production of Risky Drinking. Although there were some things I would have liked to have seen done differently. It was an excellent portrayal of the life of an alcoholic. In my opinion, Warning: This…, is a far superior film.

Warning: This Drug May Kill You is not about what life is like for an addict. It’s more about how the addict got to be an addict and what the family goes through trying to get help for the addict. It’s about the pharmaceutical companies feeding the pubic with false information – intentionally. It’s about the doctors who fail to monitor use of the drugs after they are no longer needed. It’s about US as a community who shake our heads in shame towards the one person who needs our support and understanding the most. It’s about the addict who lost the ability to say – “I’m not taking this prescription.” because they don’t understand how devastating it can be to them.

Thank You and Kudos to Perri Peltz, director, Sascha Weiss; producer, Larissa Bills; editor, Geof Bartz. For HBO; senior producer, Sara Bernstein; executive producer, Sheila Nevins for asking the hard questions. Thanks to all of you for being brave enough to take on this topic from the viewpoint expressed.

If I had been a part of Warning: This Drug May Kill You, I wouldn’t have wanted to change one thing.

The documentary will also be available on HBO ON DEMAND, HBO NOW, HBO GO and affiliate portals. Please watch with anyone you know who is taking pain medication so they may become informed.

http://www.hbo.com/documentaries/warning-this-drug-may-kill-you/synopsis/about.html

Trust

Sometimes I make a decision and this little voice gets into my head and whispers “Rethink your decision” or “Great idea”. It’s disturbing, really. I may be totally confident in my decision but once the little voice steps in, I begin to doubt my reasoning process. I think and rethink, process and reprocess, decide and undecide.

It’s not just the big decisions, it could be something as simple as what flavor ice cream to buy. You should see me buying bed sheets off the internet. OH Boy! What a conundrum!

Finally, I’ve reached a point where I am starting to trust myself to make the right decision for the circumstance. I will listen to that little voice and I’ll check myself, but I won’t dwell on it as I have in the past. I’m so proud of myself – it only took me an hour to decide on which pair of sandals I wanted. Believe me, that’s progress!

But there’s a deeper trust issue that inspired me to write this post. That’s the issue of trusting our kids to make the right decision. When kids are young children, they need assistance in making choices. They lack experience and are unable to see the possible consequences of their decisions. So, I’m not talking about the very young, this post is for the older child – closer to adulthood and beyond.

A parent asked her high school graduating son if he wanted her to encourage the boy’s alcoholic father to attend the celebration. The boy’s response was that he didn’t care if the father was in attendance or not. The mother wasn’t sure if this was the correct decision because this would be a “once in a lifetime” event and the father might regret not being there. The son might regret not having his father there. Should she intervene and remind the father of the ceremony? What if he comes and makes a scene? So many questions making the decision more difficult.

In my opinion, it’s not the mother’s decision to make. The young man already decided that it makes no difference to him if his father is there or not. If he wants his father, it is up to him to remind the father or to ask the mother to remind him. The mother should not step in unless the graduate asks her. The decision is up to the young man.

By the time a child graduates high school, they have already learned valuable life lessons. It is time to put those lessons to use. The child has advanced to being the captain of his own boat. The parents can advise, support and observe, but should not make the final decision. As parents, we may not like or approve. It’s difficult to watch as they take a walk towards a cliff but we, as parents, must let them make their own mistakes and learn from them.

We must trust that we did the best we could to teach our kids right from wrong and to look both ways before crossing the street. We can try to continue to tell them what to do, but believe me when I say, they WILL stop listening.

Don’t worry because as the years pass you will eventually find yourself asking your kids for their advice. As the world changes, technology changes, and/or standards change, we may find it hard to keep up in the ever seeming faster paced world. I know. I can’t figure out my cell phone without my daughter’s help. It’s frustrating.

We must trust that we did as good a job as we possibly could while they grow up with an extra issue of alcoholism in the household or family. We must trust our kids to have learned our life lessons. If we don’t, we are doomed to live in a sea of doubt and worry. That’s not where I want to spend my later years of life. I trust my kids and grandkids. In fact, sometimes I think they are smarter than me. 

Light with black

In my deepest of dark moments, I still can see a bare speck of light. But if I blink or look away when I look again, the speck is gone. It alternates that way – deep black with the light and then nothing but black. I wonder if it will ever be light with bit of black so I keep looking.

Over the past few months, while I’ve been rather silent, I thought about retiring this blog and all things about alcoholism. I thought about just letting it go. There’s so much that I’ve wanted to do and have not accomplished. There’s so much that needs to be done without the time or money to do it.

This journey of the blog has been long and hard. I keep going by putting one foot in front of the other but it’s like walking through quicksand. I take breaks. I try to shift my focus. But, my status as an alcoholic’s wife and caregiver are still there – almost haunting me.

I find myself so angry with anyone claiming to be an alcoholic that I have no words for them. The fact remains that the alcoholic was not the one that was meant to receive the most advantage from my blog. I wanted to give my support to people just like me – a non-alcoholic faced with caregiving an alcoholic. Doesn’t matter how we got here. It matters that we are here and in need of some information, encouragement, support or just some plain truth.

The whole point was that we would get better and eventually move on from the world of alcoholism to a world ruled only by you. It’s not easy and often nearly impossible under circumstances beyond your control. No matter. I’m here and taking care of a sober alcoholic who is still in denial and has all those ugly alcoholic traits like narcissism and altered memories.

There are times when it can be humorous if you’re in a state of mind when you can let humor into your thoughts.

For example, Riley was reminiscing and trying to remember where he had worked and who his workmates were. He kept thinking I was working in the same place as he was. But I never did. He asked me why didn’t I remember the cute little typist who was assigned to typing his tech manuals. I was patient (well… I tried to be patient) explaining that I never worked there. When he started trying to name off all the women he slept with at each work place, I wanted to throw the TV at him. The final straw was him telling that the cute little typist could F*** all night long. I left the room.

That could have had a humorous little slant to it rather than generating irritation. After I left the room, I called Carrot and told her what had just happened. She burst into belly-aching laughter. She then told me how I could have played into it and said things that would have turned things from hurtful to humorous.

I could have claimed to be that cute little typists or all of the women whose name he could not remember. I could have made up stories about being in his office and create scenarios that would have baffled him. By the time we finished talking about it, I was also rolling on the floor. I’m thankful to have someone in my life who always makes me laugh.

A follower told me that my posts recently had turned dark. I’ve been going through a dark time without much of a speck of light. There’s nothing to do but keep trying to find some kind of humor which will keep the light shining. Even if the light is far off in a distant black hole, I must keep encouraging it to glow. Otherwise, it might burn out forever.

Lost --- My killer instinct

I guess I’m just not good at killing people. I confess that I have, in the past, tried to ignore the pleas from Riley to “help him.” But when it comes right down to it – I just can’t do it.

Riley has been in and out of hospice a lot over the past couple of years. But, I guess I’m also not a very good participant as the caregiver of someone in hospice. Or maybe, just maybe, hospice failed me.

Early in January Riley lost his sense of where he was or who he was or when it was. He drifted into his imaginary world of submarines and destroyers where there is a constant battle with an imaginary enemy. This time the enemy was anyone he knew. His imaginary crew members were the only ones he trusted.

All of this type of behavior usually points to a urinary tract infection. A round of Cipro was ordered but it had no effect at all. I kept asking for help from hospice, but they would only say that they didn’t know what was going on. They did say that whatever was happening had nothing to do with him being at end of life. In fact, hospice just kept saying, we don’t know… we don’t know, but he is not dying. Well, they are medical professions – aren’t they? Surely, they must have seen this before – haven’t they?

I was confused. I watched as Riley slipped deeper into his fantasy world. The color of his urine was not right and his output was very low. If this was how it was to progress to the end, so be it. But, if what was happening had nothing to do with the end being in sight – wasn’t I obligated to get him some help?

After another day or two, I cancelled hospice, called the paramedics and took him to the emergency room. They admitted him and after many tests I was told that he had the worst infection in the history of the hospital and if I had not brought him in when I did he would have been dead within two days. Oh my gosh!! What had I done!?! I saved a life when he did not want to be saved. Or so he says…

Since he now was out of hospice, I would have no one to help with bathing him or caring for him. I was on my own again. After a discussion with the hospital social worker, I decided for him to go into a nursing/rehab facility. While there he would have physical therapists to help him regain the strength to get himself into the wheel chair. That would be a big help for me.

Riley will be in the nursing home until the end of March. Then he will come home if I can’t find a way to pay for him to stay long term, which is highly unlikely.

In the meantime, when I visit Riley, he is mean and accusatory because I did not let him die. And if I won’t let him die, I should supply him with alcohol. It’s been nearly five years since Riley has drank and STILL he keeps asking for his beloved drink. When he starts his raves about how I must take care of him because I did not let him die, I tell him I’m going and leave.

I try to think of how it would be easier for me to let him die if things had gone down a different path. I believed hospice would stay at my house while Riley was dying so the burden would not be totally on me. I thought they would provide me support so I could see it through. But, I was alone.

How ironic that I feel that if I had been a better person, I would have been able to do nothing and wait for whatever the outcome would be. So, I’d be a better person if I had let him die.

I wonder how assassins manage to put morals aside to do their job. Not sure how to resolve this issue and still be able to live with myself.

Interview with Neal

A couple of weeks ago, I spoke to Neal about how he was doing now that the Risky Drinking documentary has aired. I wanted to know what he had been doing since the film completed until now. He was hesitant to talk to me but not for the reason that you might assume.

Neal and his wife, Kathy, have been long time readers of this blog. I had many e-mails from Kathy and knew that her husband had faced difficulties around his drinking. He was drinking excessively when I referred the HBO producers to them as potential subjects for the upcoming film. The hope was that working on the film would give him a new insight into how his drinking was ruining his life and relationships with those closest to him.

He made many attempts to get and stay sober. He even allowed the film crew to be at his hospital bedside while he was detoxing. Neal was serious about stopping even though it may have seemed he was not the least bit interested in sobriety.

After the filming was complete, he went to several rehabs outside of his home state. He finally settled down in Louisiana and it was there that he decided to try one more time. This time he had a renewed determination to make it all work. He made the decision to become totally abstinent and this time his hard work paid off.

It was a long hard road and Neal slowly walked each step. Eventually, he renewed his relationship with Kathy and they began courting as though they had just met. It was a new beginning and Neal was well aware that this would be his last chance with the woman he loved.

Neal has been sober for more than a year. He is happy. He is calm. He is working his own program that works for him. He has no anxiety attacks and he is healthier than he has been in years.

He told me that he simply made a decision to not be drunk even though the simple decision was difficult to achieve. He says he found the whole thing easier once he accepted the fact that he could not drink ever again.

Neal took a less stressful job in order to simplify his life. It involves long hours and hard work, but he says it’s just what he needs. He spends less time with his grandson but his time is of a much higher quality. He likes this new life.

So why was Neal hesitant to talk to me? Because he doesn’t want any fame or notoriety. He wants to fade into the background so as not to have the pressure from public exposure. He wants to remain private and asks just to be left alone so he can enjoy his peaceful life.

He explained that he doesn’t want alcohol or alcoholism to be the center of his life. If he is constantly in contact with the people involved with the film, alcohol would still be his focus. That’s not what he wants. Letting alcohol go means moving forward and not letting it occupy your mind and thoughts. Neal says he has better things to think about and do.

I’ve assured Neal that my readers will respect his right to let him move on and put his past behind him. 

Addicts are not the only victims

Below is a guest post sent to me by Foundations Recovery Network. Lots of great graphics and relevant statistics. 

Addiction has the power to destroy many things in someone’s life. A passion, a future, a career…but most importantly, it can destroy a family. The family plays a critical role before someone’s journey down the road to addiction takes place, and is as important in recovery and aftercare support.

Loved ones can be a primary influence in the daily life of someone who abuses alcohol or drugs. These loved ones can range from co-workers, extended family members, parents, children, siblings and close friends. As of 2013 about 43% of U.S. adults - 76 million people - have been exposed to alcoholism in their family. These people have either grown up with an alcoholic family member, or have had a spouse or family member become addicted during adulthood. The most concerning part is that the younger generations are also being exposed more and more to this epidemic, specifically from their parents. It is said that an estimated 8 million children in the U.S. have at least one substance abusing parent. Of this number, parents are 2.7 times more likely to be abusive and 4.2 times more likely to neglect their children. The number of children being raised by their grandparents has also grown (to 4.9 million in 2010) primarily due to addiction and mental health disorders. 

Part of the nation’s effort in breaking the stigma associated with substance abuse is so that loved ones can have a constructive conversation with their addicted family member. This starts with being educated on the habits and signs of an addict. A lot is said on how loved ones can be enablers by giving the addict attention, money, and letting them continue their use simply to “protect” them. The loved one is scared to say something or doesn’t know how to help them. However, it’s also true that the addict himself can enable their loved ones; begging for money, help bailing them out of jail or getting to where they need to be, ignoring help from their loved one, and so on. We know it’s because of the substance that the addict is acting this way and not who they truly are. But this substance causes selfish, lying, stealing, threatening and manipulative behavior. The family member gets scared and confused and doesn’t know how to help the addict without offending them or starting an argument.

So, how can you spot alcoholism in a loved one? Here are some ways:

-The person is tempted and obligated to make alcohol a part of everyday life

-The person has an increased tolerance

-The person is unwilling to stop drinking

-The person has withdrawal symptoms when refraining to drink

-The person is ashamed of his drinking

-The person’s life suffers as a result of drinking

         

What to Do When It’s True:

                   -Hire a professional interventionist

                   -Plan an Intervention

                   -Conduct the Intervention

         

Steps of Treatment:

                   -Find a rehab that will meet all your family’s needs

                   -Family Therapy

                   -Aftercare Support

The process of working with an addicted loved one can be stressful and challenging. Attending family therapy and recovery sessions can be a key part in maintaining a healthy mind and body. It can help family and friends concentrate on what they have lost during the other’s addiction, and what problems they still seem to be recovering from even after the addict gets help. This type of recovery and treatment may be different depending on the ages and relationships in question. Family therapy is important because it helps the group as a whole get back to their own identity instead of putting all the effort they have into taking care of the addict.

The addict is ultimately responsible for their own recovery, but it’s also important for the loved one to be supportive along the journey. If the addict respects and supports the loved one, and can even participate in their recovery as well, the whole family unit can find healing.

Family therapy and recovery will build strength and effective communication within each individual and their relationship with each other. Understanding of the loved one’s addiction and recovery will develop as well. This will help prevent generations of addiction to continue in your family, and help to be open with each other about problems or events that may lead up to a potential addiction or relapse.

There are 23 million people struggling with addiction and mental health illnesses. Only 3 million are seeking help. Addiction is a disease, and it effects everyone around them. Skywood’s mission is to reach out to the other 20 million who are not seeking help. Break the stigma, and reach out for help. We are just a phone call away.

Written by: Foundations Recovery Network

Private & Confidential Line: (877) 345-3395

SOURCES:

http://blackbearrehab.com/blog/family-therapy-important-part-recovery-curriculum/

http://blackbearrehab.com/family-members-manual-addiction-treatment/

http://theoakstreatment.com/addiction-therapy/family/

https://www.bhpalmbeach.com/recovery-articles/impact-substance-abuse-and-addiction-families#footnote13_stffzrn

http://www.alcoholism-statistics.com/family-statistics/

http://www.dualdiagnosis.org/drug-addiction/economic-status/

http://www.chicagotribune.com/sns-health-addiction-families-story.html

http://www.mentalhealthamerica.net/co-dependency

http://www.dualdiagnosis.org/drug-addiction/relationships-and-addiction/

New Year 2017

The New Year is upon us but I find myself looking backward. I suppose I’m reflecting on the events of 2016 and wondering where the year went. Each year passes by so quickly.

Some of the highlights of 2016 were health issues for me; viewing the premiere of HBO’s Risky Drinking; going to New York City; spending craft time with my great-grandkids; hiring an aide; and, Riley is still immortal.

I have plans for 2017. At the beginning of every year I make plans. Lots and lots of plans. So many plans that no human being could complete them in a series of New Years. I don’t do resolutions – I do plans. In short, I bite off far more than I can chew. I’m going to try to be more realistic this year. (Does that mean I’m making a resolution?)

In the year 2017 I will be working with a partner to create a documentary film about living life inside the chaos of a loved one’s alcoholism. It will be a collection of home videos from volunteers willing to document the complexity of their lives. There will be more information forthcoming. If you think you might be interested drop me an e-mail.

My blog posts will become a book. The posts will be indexed by topic and date making it easy to find posts that will be relevant to you. For those who want to “catch up” on the blog’s history, this will be an easy way to look back and not have to search the blog for what you are looking for.

There will be more guests posts on the blog. These guests will include rehab centers for my alcoholic readers. I’ll be lifting my criteria that to accept a rehab center for a post they must have a family program. However, I prefer rehab centers with some kind of unique draw to them.

I will attempt a webinar and seminars based on “Surviving the Chaos” workbook. The workbook will be used in conjunction with the presentations. Get your copy now so you can go through it before the date is set.

2017 will be a year of fixing this old body. I’ll be having four surgeries. So, while I’m recovering, I’ll be doing a lot of computer work for The Immortal Alcoholic.

If previous years are any indication – Riley will remain immortal – again.

I’m making an attempt at staying realistic, so I think I should stop there.

Have no doubt… things will change. Things will be added and deleted. If I’ve learned nothing over the past 68 years, I have certainly learned that nothing is set in stone. All things are subject to change in the blink of an eye. There will be change in 2017 and years after. It’s one of those things that us humans cannot control.

On the other hand, some things won’t change – won’t ever change. Those are the things that we must accept and work around, through, over and under until we find a way to live with whatever the issue is.

Riley will not change. He will continue his slow, but steady, downward spiral until his immortality runs out. This, I accept, as something I cannot control.

The most important thing I will do in 2017 is to take time for myself. Let my body heal after the surgeries. Let my psyche heal from the stress of anything going on around me. I will take naps, go shopping, sew and craft stuff, watch old movies… I will live my life and be happy to be alive.

What does your 2017 look like?

An Alcoholic Version of a Night Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas and all thru the house

Not a creature was stirring not even a mouse;

 The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

            In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

            While visions of household peace danced in their heads;

And mamma in her kerchief, fell quickly to sleep,

            And I with my nightcap, had just settled in to finish my bottle of scotch;

I had dozed off for a minute when out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my recliner to see what was the matter.

 Away to the window I flew with a staggering stumble,

            Tore the ottoman and pulled the curtains off the window.

The moon, on the breast of the new-fallen snow,

            Gave such a luster of midday to objects below,

When, what to my wondering, hard to focus, eyes should appear,

            But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer,

With a little old driver so lively and quick,

            I knew in a moment it must be my drinking buddy Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

            They must be the guys from Roscoe’s Bar down the street,

And Nick whistled and shouted and call them by names I did not know:

“Now, Dasher! Now Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen!

            On Comet! On, Cupid! on, Donner and Blitzen!

To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall,

            Now, dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

            When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,

So up to the housetop the guys all flew,

With the sleigh, full of liquor and Nick, too.

And then, in a twinkle, I slipped and fell on my head,

            Passed out until morning when,

The children thundered down the stairs searching for their bounty.

At first I had no recollection of how the curtains were pulled off the window,

            Or how scotch was spilled all over the floor.

But I knew something was not quite right with last night.

           Why can’t the kids stop squealing and why is my wife crying?

Can’t they see the pain in my head?

           With my vodka coffee in my mug, I hide in the bathroom to regain some reality.

I know it wasn’t a midnight hallucination,

            Nick and his buddies had visited my house in the dead of night.

But Nick says no, I must have seen St. Nicholas and his tiny reindeer.

I went to my computer and looked up rehab centers close to my home,

            My Christmas dinner was served to me there,

Because, I couldn’t rationalize all those reindeer on my roof,

            And maybe someone else will clean up all that poop in my yard.

Next year, will be different I’m sure,

            For sobriety paints a different picture and composes a new poem.

Hallucinations dash away, dash away all,

           Christmas will be pleasant in my home

So, I'm wishing everyone a Happy Christmas one and all!