The Immortal Alcoholic

Balancing the seesaw...

2012-03-06T10:53:00.002-05:00

If I make a change in my life and then I stand back and look around, I see that I’m really the only person who has changed. As a result of the change, I may not want the same things as I did before. Maybe I want the same things, but I want to add other things into the mix. Still, I’m the only person who has changed. Is it right for me to expect others to accept my changes thereby forcing them to make changes in their relationship with me? Whether it is right or not really doesn’t matter. What matters is that one change, whether it is an addition or subtraction, doesn’t happen in a vacuum. Others are always affected by changes we make.

Change can be difficult for some people. If someone in our lives makes a change, it can be hard to adjust or accept. Even if that change is for the better, the status quo can often feel more comfortable. This is especially true in families. One family member attains sobriety after a lengthy marriage with alcohol, and the whole family is affected. Even if the family knows it’s for the best, they may still struggle to find a balance.

It is inevitable. Change is going to happen no matter what. An alcoholic may go back to drinking or choose sobriety, either way the person who is not making the decision to do either one is forced to be a party on the seesaw. If you don’t want to be on the opposite end, you can always walk away. Oh, but that, in and of itself, means you are making a change.

My life with Riley has always been a series of changes. He’s drinking. He’s not drinking. He’s living with me. He’s not living with me. Those are just the big ones and I handle those really well. I’m good at making those adjustments. But, it’s the smaller ones that seem to get to me. Today he’s eating, tomorrow he’s not. Today he is peaceful, tomorrow he’s agitated. Today he likes roast beef, tomorrow he will only eat chicken. Finding a daily balance seems impossible.

Just a few weeks ago, I had no help with Riley. It was just me on the seesaw trying to keep it level. It meant that I had to stand exactly in the middle. Today, I have a lot of help with Riley. The bath aid comes once a week and the visiting nurse comes out at least once a week. I have support and that helps me stay balanced. Although, at the time, I didn’t see much sense in taking Riley to the hospital to have his potassium levels stabilized, I am grateful now that I did. If he had not been hospitalized, I would not have gotten the help that both, Riley and I, need at home. The change has been good.

The bad side to this change is that I have had to do some fancy footwork to prepare for all the contingencies. In the past, I was just going along and waiting for Riley to die. But, now, even though he is still dying, I’m feeling the necessity of devising a plan – actually several plans. It has to be more than one plan because Riley is the “immortal” alcoholic. It doesn’t matter if the nurse says he could be gone in a few days – he could still end up with years to go. I’m standing up straight in the middle of the seesaw and waiting to see which end will drop first.

Of course, the past experiences with Riley and “you’re gonna die right now” scenarios have left me in the State of Denial. I can see the state borderlines right there between the States of Peace and Chaos. I hear what the nurse is telling me and I’m nodding my head in agreement and understanding. But, deep down inside I deny that what they tell me is actually going to happen. One end of my seesaw is named “Immortal” and other end is “Gonner”. Right now Gonner is up in the air and Immortal is almost touching the ground. From the viewpoint of the nurse, it’s the opposite situation.

No matter which end of the seesaw is higher, a change is sure to come. Even if Riley is immortal, things will change because I may no longer be able to take care of him and he may be forced to detox and move to a care facility. If Riley does prove he is mortal after all, that will mean another change. Both possible changes mean a change in my lifestyle.

All these changes are difficult for my family. They are unable to deal with the daily up and down of the seesaw and have absented themselves from the situation. They also live in the State of Denial. Although they see things may change and Gonner may end up firmly on the ground, they really just see everything just as it was. For them, nothing has changed. Riley is a drunk. Riley is miserable to be around. Same-o, same-o. No change here.

I’m wondering what their expectations will be of me when Riley is not around – either in a nursing facility or at the bottom of the sea. Will they expect me to spend every weekend with them? Will they except me to run to them on a moment’s notice? They are already resentful of my not spending time with them because of my Riley Duty. Even though they say everything will be the same, I know better. I know all of us will be forced to make changes – some mostly good and some bad.

There is nothing to do but wait and see. Wait for the changes and adjust myself on the seesaw.

I can take it...

2012-03-02T10:54:00.001-05:00

Last night I made a valiant attempt to host the Thursday night OARS meeting. I haven’t been able to do that for a couple of weeks and I miss all my members providing support, encouragement and lots of humor. I really wanted my “fix” last night. But, Riley had other ideas and so the meeting went on without me. I’m happy that everyone is so comfortable that they just keep going in helping each other. I’m very proud of them for being open and caring to everyone in the group. And, by the way, the group is very welcoming to new members. If you’re searching for people who understand and listen without judgment or criticism OARS is the place to be.

I don’t understand how “waiting for the end” can be so hectic and chaotic. There are things to buy, schedules to coordinate, menus to plan, and meetings to be kept. Yesterday was one such day. It started with cooking Riley breakfast. After that, I was in my office making phone calls to facilities where Riley had been a patient. I am gathering his records so they can be submitted to VA in a complete package. Then there was an in-home meeting with the VA representative to go over what else was needed. Usually, VA takes care of everything involving gathering of the records. But, in my efforts to hasten the application process, I am doing most of the gathering myself. Anyway, after that I had a meeting with Gill, grocery shopping, prescriptions filled and shopping for a bath bench and oil-filled heater.

When I returned home, Riley was “in a mood” as it were. I knew he had been timing me and I had been gone much too long for his comfort. He knew better than to say that I was late or ask what had taken me so long. But, his attitude said it all. He wanted to put away the packages I brought in. It is how we usually unpack bags of stuff from the store. That way he gets to see what I buy and many times there are little surprises for him. It’s a game we play, but today the game was not working. He questioned every purchase and then complained that I was visiting with the teen age girl down the road who wanted to talk about teen-age alcoholism. My focus was not on Riley and that was troublesome to him.

It may not be recognizable to some people but what was really happening was that Riley was abusing me. There were no fists flying or even very much yelling. It was fairly quiet. But there was an undercurrent of anger coming from the kitchen. I knew what was wrong. I had been gone too long and was not giving him immediate undivided attention. Riley was furious with me, although, he would never come out and admit it because to him having anger means he’s not able to control his emotions. Somehow he thinks maintaining control makes him better than other people.

Riley has been abusing for me years. He’s just like most other alcoholics and I’m just like most spouses of alcoholics who, in the beginning, do not recognize the abuse. It comes in small doses – much like the Frog Soup Theory. Maybe he keeps his drinking money out of the salary household bank deposit – and you don’t know. You have to work twice as hard to make up the money – that’s abuse. Maybe he never spends Saturdays helping you clean the house or dealing with the kids – that’s abuse. Maybe he will leave you a long list of things that need to be done and maybe he could just as easily do those things – that’s abuse. He may not say anything to you about any of it, but you just know. There is a feeling in the room – the proverbial elephant that no one ever talks about. It’s abuse.

Somewhere along the way the alcoholic begins showing disapproval of the things you do and then calls you names or belittles you. That’s abuse. You’re now walking on egg shells because you don’t want this discord in the middle of family events or day-to-day activities – that’ abuse. Telling you he will do something and then not doing it – or lying that he has done it – that’s abuse. Name calling, degrading your sense of logic and making your life generally more difficult is abuse.

Of course then there’s the biggee – physical abuse. It will seem that you have so disappointed him that he will lash out with a slap or hit. Maybe he will even tell you it was an accident. Trust me it was not – AND that’s abuse. Each time he gets behind the wheel of a car and you worry about what he’s doing to himself or innocent bystanders – that’s abuse.

Besides all that, abuse comes in all sorts of fashions. There is abuse of power, abuse of inanimate objects, abuse of emotions, abuse of society. When there is an alcoholic involved you can be sure that he’s abusing everything and everyone around him, but especially the spouse/caretaker.

The question is, what do you do about it? No one can make any decision for you and we are all prone to forgive especially when it is someone we’ve vowed to love and accept no matter what. Most of the time, the spouse doesn’t even understand that they are being abused. Riley abused me over the nearly entire 40 years that we’ve known each other. I didn’t really recognize or understand it until recently. Now I see it. Now I understand. It’s too late for me to do anything about the past. But, I can make sure it stays in check in the present.

So, I want to do the OARS meeting and Riley comes in and makes a comment that I’ve been gone all day long and haven’t spoken to him at all for the entire day. I know none of that is true, but I decide to forego the meeting and deal with the issue. I return to the den and ask what it is he wants to talk about. He wants to know why our house is such a mess all the time. I want to say that the house is not a mess and defend the cleanliness level to a person who has feces smeared on his bathroom wall. But, I don’t do that. I simply say that the housekeeper will be here in the morning and what else did he want to say. He asked why I didn’t put hard-boiled egg is his chef’s salad. I told him I forgot about the egg and would remember it next time. And so it continued on… And that, my friend was abuse and I gave into it. Never once was there a real conversation or a slight smidgeon of thankfulness or gratitude for anything I did do that day. It was all about what I was failing to do or had failed to do.

I should have told him I would come talk to him when the meeting was over. Period. I should have closed my office door and gotten the support I needed from my group members. But, I didn’t. My choice was the abuse because it seemed like the easiest thing to do.

When living with an abusive person, the spouse gets presented with these choices over and over again. The spouse must weigh the potential outcome in their mind before acting. If you could slow down time, maybe you would see this image of the spouse talking to themselves about which road is the best to take. If I do this, then this will happen or if I do that, maybe that will happen. There’s a battle going on in there.

So, I often choose the abusive route. I deal with it. My reasoning is that Riley’s days are numbered. I know and understand he is a sick man and could emotionally snap in a moment’s notice. So I tread lightly to keep the tiger inside him sleeping. I don’t have to placate for very long. He is sleeping more now and that provides me with solace. But the bottom line is no matter what he says or does, I know that I’m a good, intelligent, loving person – no matter what he says or what his passive aggressiveness wants me to think.

I am more fortunate than others. My abuse is at its end. For other’s it is just beginning and all I have to say is decide early on what you are willing to accept. Recognize it for what it is. And know that once you agree to accept the Bull Stuff that’s being handed out, you are agreeing to a way of life that may leave you feeling useless, stupid, unlovable. Get off that cycle now. Put a stop to it. Decide now that you are worth a solidly reciprocal relationship where things are shared and not just managed. Be the person that we all know you are – highly intelligent; very confident; genuinely loving; and over forgiving. It’s OK to take the easy way – as long as you know inside yourself that you’re doing it because it’s easy and not because you accept it as a way of life.

Waging war...

2012-02-29T08:03:00.004-05:00

It was one year ago yesterday that Riley went to the store for some milk and came home with a 24 pack of beer. It was the beginning of the end for him. I wish yesterday had come with us being able to celebrate a year of sobriety, but, of course, that was just wishful thinking. And now, here we are, at the end of his life and I wonder – was it really worth it? I’ve clearly stated before that the reasoning for why a person would degrade themselves for the sake of alcohol is beyond my comprehension.

I remember reading somewhere that in our early settler days, the merchants provided whiskey to the Native Americans so that the merchants could cheat them out of land, pottery, and other items. Native Americans became addicted to the whiskey and that ensured a high trade volume for the merchants. The merchants took the Native American artifacts back to the homeland and sold them for a high price. So, the fact is that the merchants took advantage of the Native Americans for the sake of money. The Native Americans sold themselves out just to get some whiskey.

We hear a lot these days about biological and chemical warfare. A lot of money goes into creating ways for one side to do another in by means of a silent killer such as a virus or a non-distinguishable gas. I wonder what would happen if one side started spiking the drinking water supply with small amounts of alcohol and then increasing the amount slowly. I imagine that eventually there would be a whole nation of alcoholics or at least a whole segment of alcohol damaged populace. In time, the alcohol would render the population with the inability to think or reason clearly. Just like the Native Americans, they would be easy pickin’s.

OK. So maybe it would not be as quick acting as the opponent would like. But, it would be far cheaper than hiring a bunch of scientists to re-invent the horse. And it wouldn’t be creating a new malady for the entire world to worry about getting into the wrong hands. I’m sure someone somewhere sometime along the way, has thought of this scenario. Maybe Hitler was working on a plan like this.

Of course, I hate the plan and the scenario. I hate it that people have been duped by others to believe that just a little couldn’t hurt. I believe that if two factions want to war it out, they should each have a certain number of warriors send to a far off place. They should fight it out in hand-to-hand combat and the last warrior standing wins. Quick, clean and to the point. No injured children. No raped or pillaged villages. No collateral damage.

It’ll never happen. The reality is that war is good for the economy. It creates jobs building war machines and hiring soldiers. It is profitable. Just like alcohol is profitable. Our government recognizes the value of the alcohol industry. In some states the liquor industry is controlled by the state government. Alcohol is only available in state regulated stores manned by government employees.

I know that alcoholics wage a war inside themselves. It’s a war between the desire for the alcohol and reality of common sense. I’m not an alcoholic, so I can only imagine what kind of war that would be. Losing that war and becoming a victim of substance abuse results in the ultimate loss – loss of life. And the effects are far-reaching. The collateral damage is overwhelming. Children, families, homes are all included in the circle of devastation. There are so many people waging this war right here and now, that I wonder if the water has, in fact, been spiked with the awful juice.

Riley has lost that war inside himself. Although for him, he never considered it to be a war. He made a decision. His choice was to die an alcoholic death. Now that our country home is a buzz with hospice workers, bath aides, and others who simply want to make Riley’s last days as comfortable as possible, he is losing his ability to hold onto his life and he just doesn’t care. He enjoys the company, but denies why they are all here.

I’m told over and over that there still may be hope. Riley could still get through all his bodily devastation and return to sobriety. I’m a realist and I follow Dr. Phil’s theory that the best indication of future behavior is past behavior. I know that long-term sobriety will never be something that Riley will ever have or appreciate.

Even if Riley manages to survive detox and achieves sobriety. The alcohol has so damaged his brain function that he will most likely suffer from permanent dementia. If that is so, I most likely would have to place him in a nursing facility. I don’t believe I could physically care for his needs. So, what kind of sobriety is that?? It’s like saying, you can be sober and live, but your life will be contained within this specific space – much like a prisoner. The alcohol still wins.

I believe I predicted somewhere that it would take about a year for Riley to get to this place – the end of his life. Sometimes I hate it when I’m right.

It won't kill you...

2012-02-24T07:47:00.001-05:00

First of all, I want to thank all my readers for their patience while I have been away from the blog. I appreciate the many letters I have received expressing concern for my lack of posting. I want to assure you that I’m OK. It’s just been a little more difficult lately and my usual time for writing has been overtaken by other responsibilities.

After Riley returned home from the hospital, he never quite returned to where he was before he went in for stabilizing. He is weaker now than ever. He has absolutely no bowel or bladder control and cannot walk without assistance. On Thursday he fell eleven times. One of those falls was only about an inch from the fireplace.

I met with Gill and we talked about having Riley committed to the state mental hospital. My fear was that he would detox and come home so we could start up this routine all over again. It pains me to say that I really don’t want to go through all this insanity ever again. I’ve done it so many times and each time my physical health deteriorates and he just goes on. If the hospital would keep him, I’d be all ready to have him committed.

The reality is detox is dangerous. I know that and I know that Riley may not survive detox this time. But, too many times I’ve been told he that he would not survive and then he becomes immortal. When Riley is alcohol-free after detox, he actually presents himself as a sane and rational individual. I don’t believe it’s sane for anyone to return to drinking after detox, but my opinion means nothing.

Because I thought it might be possible that they would keep him, I did some checking to lay the ground work for Riley’s being committed. I spoke to the Magistrate. I learned that going before the Magistrate only initiates an order to have a Sherriff’s squad car to come to my home, handcuff Riley, put him in the back of the car and transports him the almost 3 hour drive to the hospital. Well -- that doesn't sound like something I would want to have happen to him. It just seemed like overkill to me.

Once there, he would be evaluated by a hospital doctor. That doctor would make a recommendation as to treatment. It may be that he will simply be detoxed and let go. If he presents himself after detox to be a danger to himself and others, then and only then, they would admit him in a residential program. Well – for me – that sounds like a crap shoot! I’m not much of a gambler and I think maybe I should just pick up my cards and go home.

I took my information and met with Gill once again. We agreed that for Riley to state he intended to drink again was an act of insanity. He is a danger to others by virtue of admitting he would drive drunk. He is a danger to me because of his inability to clean up his biological waste from the floor and walls. He is a danger to himself because he knows the drinking will kill him. But, generally speaking, they don’t commit people for that – or at least – I don’t think they do.

When Riley was discharged from the ICU, I was told to take him back to the doctor’s office on Monday to get his lab work re-done. There is no way that can happen because I can’t get him into the van and once in, I don’t know if I could get him out. I called the doctor’s office to let them know that I wouldn’t be bring him in. I was told not to worry about it, that the doctor would be calling me.

I rarely have much sympathy for the medical community. I find their lack of knowledge and understanding to be a constant irritation. When the doctor called me back I knew I would get the lecture about getting him detoxed and into rehab. I was surprised when the doc simply said that there was really nothing more he could do for Riley. He understood that Riley was not going to stop drinking even if they got him to agree to rehab. There was nothing medically that could be done for him. He couldn’t even give him anything for the pain from his arm or any past or future injury because there was just too much alcohol in his system. When I told him that I didn’t know how much longer I could take care of him, he said he would be ordering hospice. I told him I was reading between the lines. He acknowledged that I understood what that meant since he knew of all the work I have done in writing this blog. Because he knew that I was informed, he didn’t try to give me anything but the facts. I was so appreciative of that.

The events over the past week had made me a bit unsure of a few things and I asked him some questions.

Q: Riley’s ammonia level is increasing at the rate of about 250-300 micrograms per month. What can I expect as the ammonia level increases?

A: There will be increased confusion and agitation. He will lose all control of his bodily functions. He will be falling more because he’ll become unable to balance himself. He will sleep almost continuously and will fall asleep any place and at any time. Eventually, he will most likely fall into a coma from which he will not recover. However, it will NOT kill him.

Q: If the ammonia (hepatic encephalopathy) doesn’t kill him, what will?

A: The elevated ammonia level is caused by his liver failing to function properly and that WILL kill him. But, that is if nothing else is going wrong inside his body, which clearly there are lots of things going wrong.

He has a history of esophageal bleeding, so he may have esophageal varices which are almost instant death.

His potassium level is extremely low makes him susceptible for a heart attack and since his system is so weak, he would most likely not survive.

He has a lesion in his brain which was the cause of his last stroke. His blood is thinner from the alcohol and any bump to his head could cause that lesion to bleed. That can either cause another stroke or kill him. Because of Riley’s history of falling, he believes this is the most likely thing to happen.

I found it refreshing to get straight forward answers from a medical pro. I know I knew all of this, but to have validation that I am correct is great to hear. But it wasn’t really great because, until now, my knowledge was all about my research and experience. Now I have to look at reality and make some decisions or changes. I’m just not sure how to do it or what changes to make.

Today the hospice worker will come out and evaluate Riley’s condition and what they can do to help me take care of him. I’m also having the POA’s updated, so a Notary Public will be here. It’s Friday, so the housekeeper will be also here. It’s going to be a busy day – again.

At the moment, Riley is asleep sitting up on the love seat in the den. It has been peaceful in my office and I’m grateful for having the quiet so that I could write this post.

No detox zone...

2012-02-17T08:58:00.003-05:00

When I took Riley to the doc for his arm they did blood work. I got the results on Wednesday morning when I was called and told that I MUST get him to the hospital immediately. His ammonia level was over 700 when it should be in the 100s. Also his LFT (liver function) was extremely bad as well as his potassium level. Erica is our PA and I told her that it was not my decision to make. I let her talk to Riley and he refused to go. She told him that I had agreed to take him, if he consented to go but that if he didn’t go, she would have to call the rescue squad and get him to the hospital. He agreed to go, but made it clear he did not want to detox.

But, while I was getting dressed he called her back and told her he did not want to go. Since she didn't pick up, he got in the van and went with me to the hospital.

At the hospital, as Riley went longer and longer without a drink, he became more and more agitated. I refused to intervene. I gave information when I was asked and corrected him on details that he didn't remember clearly. But, when it came to whether or not he would stay -- I shut up. Eventually, he agreed to being admitted and was placed in ICU.

He was now into more than 6 hours of withdrawal. I started my mental countdown - only about 30 more hours and he would be in full blown DTs. He was told they would only keep him overnight, but that they were prepared for the possibility of seizures since he had all the appropriate padding around his bed. Their goal for him was to elevate his potassium and get him more stabilized.

The ICU doc came in and told us that the lab results she had used were based on a different and using her method, Riley’s ammonia levels were really not that bad. So she wasn’t that concerned. When she started asking Riley questions, the same inaccurate garbage was spewed as it had been in the ER. I started to give her the facts, but was abruptly stopped and told she wanted to hear it from Riley. Well… OK… I let it go and sat quietly marveling at how much misinformation was being bantered about.

While this whole process was going on, I was continually thinking – So now what??? Will this trip to the ER mean another year of hell with Riley? I have vowed not to pull him back from the brink of death, but when a medical professional gets involved and makes the decision for me or for Riley – I see no way of being able to stop what could easily turn into a snowball rolling down a mountain in the Alps. I can see in my mind and follow the progression. They just want to give him some potassium; then he has a seizure and they have to keep him because he is too weak to be discharged; next thing ya know he’s in full blown detox and that silly little snowball is now an avalanche. And I feel helpless to stop it.

I was invited to spend the night in Riley’s room. They would bring in a cot and make accommodations for me. Sure, like that was going to happen. I had a Riley-free night and intended to make the most of it. I went home and cooked some of my favorite foods, curled up on the sofa with a soft blanky and watched Survivor. Then I took a long hot bubble bath followed by climbing into bed with fresh sheets. Jax joined me on one side and I allowed Jade to sleep in my room next to my bed.
That’s where we all snored the night away until almost 6 a.m.

The doctor made her rounds between 8 and 9 a.m. I had called Gill and he was going to try to meet me at the hospital to talk to the doctor. I really didn’t know what I would be walking into this morning, but I didn’t really expect to see that much of a change from the night before.

Riley was sitting up eating his breakfast complaining that what he needed and wanted was a drink. His night had been OK because they had given him Librium. He was shaky and weak. When the nurse came in and told him to push himself up high in the bed, he could not do it. His general appearance was one of a weak old man, even more so than when I brought him in.

The ER doc said Riley’s lab work looked much better and he would be released that day. I was impressed that they had actually been able to accomplish their goal without him going into DTs. In my mind, I’m still questioning the point in all of it. Why did we really go through this?

I went to get a cup of coffee and when I returned to the room, Riley was sitting up in the recliner. The nurse told me to get him dressed. Oh. Really. Was it really my job? I pulled out the sweat suit I brought with me and started the task of getting him into it. First there was the issue of the Depends – which he did not want to wear. I informed him it was not his choice to make – Depends or stay in the hospital. Once he conceded, trying to get the Depends actually on his body was still another issue. I told Riley to lift his butt so I could slip them on. He couldn’t lift himself high enough for me to slip them on. When they were half-way on, I moved on to the sweat pants and it was the same thing. I thought if I got them partially on, I’d have him stand up and pull them up the rest of the way. The sweat shirt was no problem as were the socks and slippers. I told him to stand up and I’d finish his pants – but he couldn’t stand up at all. He couldn’t walk. He couldn’t do anything but sit. At least when we came into the hospital, he was able to move under his own steam. He was worse now that he was before!

The problem-solving part of my personality kicked in. I could drive up the ER entrance and the nurses could get Riley into the van. But what was I supposed to do after that?? I couldn’t carry him into the house. He couldn’t walk. I expressed my concerns to the nurse. She told me to call a neighbor for help or a family member. WHAT?? The only neighbor I have is at work. My kids are about two hours away and at work. To me the suggestion was ludicrous. I asked if they thought I should call the rescue squad to help me get him inside. After a lot of mucking about, it was decided he would be transported home via the rescue squad. That sounded like a good plan to me.

While waiting for the rescue squad, the hospital case manager came in and told me she would be having a home health agency contact me so that I would have some assistance in caring for him. They knew Riley’s aversion to bathing and knew I needed help at that area – at least. I was extremely happy to hear it. I was also told that I might be able to get assistance from the Veterans Administration since Riley was considered a Viet Nam vet, there may be programs open to him that we didn’t know about until now. Wow! More useful information – this hospital overnight was turning out to be a pretty good deal.

I got home, fixed Riley a drink and within a few hours he was trying to make his way around the house. The more drinks he had, the more mobile he became. So, the drunker he was, the more stable he was. The irony in that amazes me.

Tomorrow I am to take Riley back to the docs office so they can repeat the blood work and see how much he has improved. OK. I can do that. I will comply.

I checked back in my records and when Riley was admitted to detox in SoCal, his ammonia level was almost 900. So while a level of 700 is alarming, Riley has survived much more startling lab results. I suppose to someone who is new to the Immortal Alcoholic, he seems in dire need of help. I know that’s their only goal – to help. I respect that and understand it. It makes my job more difficult and the medical pros don’t seem to understand my point of view.

I’m not upset over the hospital stay because Riley did NOT go into DT’s. They released them exactly as they said they would. I’m thankful for my 24 hours free of Riley insanity. Gill informs me that I have some other decisions to make and wants to meet with me as soon as things settle down. At this point, I feel I’ve made all the decisions I need to make. But, we’ll see what he has to say.

Invisible segment...

2012-02-15T08:34:00.002-05:00

There is a large gaping hole in the world of alcoholism. Most people, who are not alcoholics, do not understand that not every alcoholic is savable. Oh… I can just hear my e-mail box filling up with that statement!

I am certainly not trying to be disrespectful. I personally believe most alcoholics have the ability to achieve and maintain sobriety. I also believe that some alcoholics say they don’t want it when they really do. Their brains are just too saturated at that moment to realize that sobriety is what they want. Once the brain dries out, they see that a better life is available to them.

That being said… there is a large segment of alcoholics that are beyond saving. They are end-stage and it’s called end-stage for a reason. They’ve reached the end. The end of being accepted into treatment centers; the end of the medical community being interested in helping them; the end of the family’s patience for the situation; the end of their overall health being able to sustain the stress of detox; and/or the end of the possibility for a sane and productive life.

These end-stage alcoholics have usually been through detox and rehab more times than you can count with both hands. Each time they have returned to what they covet the most – alcohol. And each time their health deteriorates even more. They eventually reach a point where detoxing is more dangerous than the drinking. This group of people do not want sobriety. Even when in a sober state of mind, they will openly state that they prefer drunkenness over sobriety. This is where they veer off and become invisible to the world.

No one wants to admit that someone – anyone – can’t be helped. We all like living in the fantasy world where every illness is cured, every bump and bruise gets a kiss and is made all better. But this isn’t Fantasyland and not everyone gets cured or gets the message. We don’t cure every case of cancer. Why would addictions be any different? Not every case is curable.

Unfortunately, there is no guidebook for what to do when an alcoholic is not curable. No one knows what to do with an end-stage alcoholic who needs medical treatment that may include a stay in the hospital, but has a high death risk if allowed to go into withdrawal. I’m sure there may be a drug that would help them get through to discharge without putting them into a detoxing state. I don’t know of any, but I’m not a pharmacologist. I do know that the one thing that will prevent withdrawal is more alcohol. Even small amounts may be enough. Yesterday I wrote about a hospital providing alcohol to an end-stage alcoholic.

As Riley sits across from me and says there must be a way to get this woman some help – I’m not sure what he means by HELP. He doesn’t (even in a sober mind) believe that anyone should be forced into detox without their consent. So maybe the help he was referring to was actually met with the doses of vodka.

Twice I have heard of a hospital emergency room providing (or allowing) the patient to have alcohol. I don’t know if it is a good thing or not. In my mind, it is a contradiction between bad and even worse. Doctors do take an oath to “first do no harm.” Maybe taking away the alcohol constitutes MORE harm in certain cases. I understand that. And I also understand that taking away the alcohol may mean probable death in certain cases.

I suppose that each alcoholic that enters an ER should be taken on its own merits instead of putting them all into one savable category. It makes sense to me that each alcoholic should be evaluated and treated in the manner that would most likely aid in the recovery of whatever injury brought them to the ER in the first place. In other words, treat them for the bump on the head, or the broken arm, or the cut hand. But automatically insisting on detox is not always in the best interest of the alcoholic. Of course, it never hurts to ask or even to gently prod. But threats of refusal of service should never been an option.

I have taken Riley to the hospital many times with calamities as a result of his inebriation. Each time the scenario plays out the same. The admitting and triage nurses are gentle and sometimes even playful with Riley. They examine his boo-boo and take his vitals and say a doctor will be with him shortly. Several times during the process he will state that he does not want to detox or go to rehab. The doctor comes in and examines him while asking lots of questions about his drinking.

After the examination, the doctor will take me aside and tell me that I need to get Riley to detox. As if it was totally my decision. The doctor will come across as lecturing me as to what must be done – as though I should have done it long ago. I will then be informed that there are no facilities at the hospital to accommodate the detoxing process. (Well – I know that’s not exactly true – all hospitals have ICU’s and that’s the safest place for a detox to happen. But I don’t say that to the doc.) And then – as though everything is hunky dory – I’m informed that they will try to find a facility for Riley. I smile and nod, because to do anything else – to provide any other information – will certainly fall on deaf ears. A few hours after the lecture, the doctor will reappear and tell me that they were unable to find a center that would accept Riley. The mortality risk and relapse risk was way too high. They treat him for whatever and he is discharged.

It’s disturbing to me that the family is almost always admonished for the condition of the alcoholic. It seems they are just expected to keep the alcoholic from getting to the point of being end-stage. Once the alcoholic is at end-stage the family is forced to make decisions as to what is best not just for the alcoholic, but for the entire family. In my opinion the family is more savable than the end-stage alcoholic and if that means the alcoholic goes back home and continues on the path of self-destruction – well so be it.

Personally, I won’t take the detox road again. If I have anything to say about it, I will do anything I can to keep Riley out of detox and let him finish the task he has set before himself. Riley knows my point of view. Everyone knows my point of view and I’m not winning any popularity contests with my attitude. That’s fine with me. Riley has made a choice. I am simply respecting his choice.

The patient described in my last post was in extremely frail health. She was anemic and so weak she could not stand on her own. She did not know any of the why, where, or even who of the questions that are always asked to determine whether or not the alcoholic is cognizant of the present. The stress of detox would almost certainly end in death. The general consensus seems to be to get the alcoholic to detox and that will be the answer. It isn't always the answer and sometimes shouldn’t even be a question.

Our society needs to stop ignoring the fact that not everyone can fit into the round hole that we have been almost “brainwashed” to believe. Everyone is different. Every alcoholic is different. It’s time to acknowledge that fact.

That's not me...

2012-02-14T17:02:00.000-05:00

A couple of weeks ago, Riley fell as he was getting out of the van. It took him some time to get off the pavement and into the house. When he falls, I cannot help him. I am not strong enough to pick him up when he insists upon being dead weight. He will not help lift himself in any manner. So after a couple of hours of lying in the driveway with the three large dogs jumping over him and on him, he managed to regain a vertical stance.

He insisted he was fine and that he had not been injured in anyway. But, after a couple of days I noticed that his arm was swollen. He told me everything was working just fine and that he didn’t need medical attention. I told him I would be happy to take him to get it checked out. He refused.

A couple of night later, I noticed that Riley’s arm looked blue around his hand and wrist. I asked him again if he didn’t want to go the ER. He declined once again and said he that would maybe go to the doctor’s office on Monday if his hand was not better.

When Monday came, of course, he didn’t want to go to the doctors. The swelling looked a little less and the hand wasn’t quite so blue. I didn’t push for him to go.

By Thursday, he was in quite a bit of pain. The swelling had gone down considerably, but he was having difficulty using his fingers. I called the doctor and made an appointment for that afternoon. We wouldn’t really be seeing the doctor, but rather his physician’s assistant, Erica. That was good as far as I was concerned. Erica was far more familiar with Riley’s alcohol abuse.

As soon as Erica had examined Riley’s hand, she ordered an x-ray and told us she was very sure the wrist was broken. She asked Riley if he was going to let her set the wrist and put his arm in a cast. He did not answer.

They have all the equipment in the office and performed the x-rays right then. In a short time, Erica came back and said she was happy to report that she was wrong. Nothing was broken, but Riley had pulled his tendons and was going to be in pain for quite a while. She told him she would love to give him something for the pain, but that she could not because he had too much alcohol in his system. She also advised him not to take any aspirin or over-the-counter pain relievers.

Erica then focused her attention on me and said she would be getting some lab work done that will show us exactly where we stand as far as Riley’s over condition. She knows I keep the workbook and that I chart all the lab work. Erica directed us to the lab and Riley went in to give his blood.

While Riley was in the lab, Erica told me that it was obvious that Riley had degenerated quickly over the past three months since he had been after his fireplace fall. She knows he won’t detox and she won’t push him into it. She is one of the few medical professionals I have ever met that will concede that Riley is in a downward spiral and we are all helpless to stop it. She said she would make some calls and see if I could get some home health aide in the not too far distant future.

This world needs more Erica’s. We need more medical professionals who will listen to the caretaker and offer assistance. I am fortunate to have her in my corner.

This morning Riley’s arm looks better. That is his ARM looks better. Everything else about him is looking not so good. I believe he’s aged about 10 years in physical appearance. But, this is to be expected. I am not surprised in the least. I know it will get worse before he is gone.

I have been reading to Riley about one of my followers who is having issues with an end-stage family member who fell and ended up in the ER. The hospital doesn’t have a detox facility and doesn’t want her to detox in their ICU, so they are giving her vodka to keep her from going into DTs as they run tests. The long and short of it is that this elderly alcoholic will be coming home to die because there is nothing else that can be done.

Riley is amazed at the fact that there is nothing that the hospital or family can do for the alcoholic. He shakes his head as says how sad it is. He believes there must be something someone can do to save the woman.

I asked Riley why is it sad for this woman and not for him? He says it’s because he knows what he’s doing to himself. Well… don’t you think she knew what she was doing to herself? His response is that she is not responsive and has no idea where she is so she should be helped so she doesn’t die.

I tell them that eventually he will be like the alcoholic being fed vodka at the emergency room. There will come a time when he won’t remember anything or know where he is or maybe even WHO he is. I asked if I should try to save him? He says NO. He says he doesn’t want to detox and wants to be left alone.

That’s exactly what this other woman has said she wants as well, I tell him. I see no difference in the two of them. Riley thinks about this for a minute and then he says, “But I’m the Immortal Alcoholic. Nothing will happen because I’m not going to die. I’m not like her at all.” They say ignorance is bliss – whoever THEY are. Sometimes ignorance is simply denial.

Message from Dan...

2012-02-11T07:38:00.000-05:00

Today I have a guest poster who is one of my Twitter followers. In my opinion, this guy knows his stuff. This posting is primarily for all my alcoholic readers who are struggling with recovery. There may be some help for you through Mr. Callahan. This one is for you!

Dan Callahan is bad boy who found his way after many detours down the wrong path of life. He ended up on the right road and eventually earned a Master’s Degree from Fordham University in Social Work. He primarily works with patients struggling with substance abuse. He played a significant role in Hands Across Long Island which is the largest and most prominent consumer run mental health agency in the United States. He is the co-author of a New York State training manual and program for mental health and correction service professionals who work with parolees with “serious and persistent mental illness.” All that was taken from his website http://www.happyrecovery.com/

From Dan:

Inaction breeds doubt and fear. Action breeds confidence and courage. If you want to conquer fear, do not sit home and think about it. Go out and get busy. --Dale Carnegie

Fear paralyzes the best of us. When it comes to alcoholism and addiction more often than not neither the addict nor the family members heed the signs that something is awry early on. Often fear of taking any action paralyzes them into hoping beyond hope that it is going to get better, somehow.

For the addict it is all they know. They justify their use, they do all they can to minimize the challenges they face due to their use. But in the end if they are afflicted with the "creature" they continue to sink deeper into addiction.

For the family, they just want to believe that it is going to get better. That by some miraculous act of God their loved one is just going to stop! They are going to get through their phase and get on with their lives.

Without action nothing changes. Hoping is not action, praying is a start. For the addict an evaluation of how far it has gone and seeking an experts advice on a plan of action is necessary. For the family, an evaluation of the situation and seek expert advice on how to bring the message to their loved one in a way that illicit's positive action.

Finally, when the steps are apparent take definitive action. Recovery requires making the decision to recover. What does recovery entail? It starts with complete abstinence, followed by change. We must change how we think if we are going to find joy. How we think about life, family, friends, alcohol, drugs, and what we really want out of our lives.

Recovery is possible for the family and the addict. But not without decisive action!

*******************

Visit Dan on his website or twitter him as Happy Recovery.

I welcome requests for being a guest poster on my blog. I’m especially looking for stories from other caretakers of end-stage alcoholics, but I have a strong following of alcoholics and need to hear from you as well. I’m not an alcoholic and need to hear what it is like to be on the receiving end of the caretaking. Knowledge and understanding is the key to survival.

Please join me by helping me help others.

Thanks.

Shhhh!! Caretaker sleeping...

2012-02-10T07:49:00.000-05:00

It was 4:00 a.m. when I heard it the first time. It woke me up out of some much needed sleep. At first I couldn’t quite make it out. At that time in the morning, I was a little groggy. Then I heard it again --- HORSE POCKEY!!! – and I knew what it was. Riley was watching TV.

There’s no point in staying in bed. I toss on my bathroom and slip into my slippers and make my way to the coffee pot. Riley says “good morning” as I pass by his rocking chair in the den. He then informs me of the status of the animals.

“Jax is in and has been fed. Jade has been in and out and has been fed.” I’m not sure what the significance is of him telling me the whereabouts of Jax and Jade. I don’t worry about where they are or what they are doing. If they want inside, they will let me know. Much to my chagrin, Riley feeds them on demand – as well as the neighbors dogs. I worry that Jax will get fat. I’m not too worried about Jade getting fat because she runs it off as soon as she takes the food in. But, I really can’t afford to be feeding the dogs that don’t belong to us. That’s a different story.

I ignore the status report, get a cup of coffee and settle into my office. Mornings are my most productive time and I like to take advantage of that. But, it takes me a while to really wake up and be able to actually see the computer screen. I’m tired. I could have used at least another hour of sleep.

Sleep… I feel like I sleep all the time, but I never sleep “tight.” My sleep is broken into bits and pieces. I fall asleep while watching TV, which is set to turn off on a timer. But, as soon as the TV is turned off, I wake up, go to the bathroom, and try to fall back into a sound sleep. That just doesn’t happen; I wake up just about every other hour. I’m not totally awake each time. I’m awake just enough to know I should go back to sleep.

I like to watch my soaps in the afternoon. The combined programs are one and a half hours long. The problem is that I always fall asleep before they are over and I end up sleeping for about two hours. That sucks because I’m not a good napper. In fact, no one should be around me when I wake up because I am truly a bitch. It takes me another hour to get back to being human after my nap.

My ideal sleep regimen would be to fall asleep around 11 p.m. and sleep until about 6 a.m. As hard as I try to manipulate my body into that routine, my brain refuses to read the memo. I would rather not nap in the daytime, but just stay awake all day long until 11 p.m. I don’t think I’m being unreasonable and if my brain and body doesn’t start cooperating, well, I don’t know what I’ll do, but I’ll do something. There must be a way I can whip them into submission.

Recently it brought to my attention that my inability to sleep may not be from something internal to my body. It could be that something is waking me up that has nothing to do with my brain. So, I was thinking, Jax is in and out of my room all night. He comes in through the window and wants to be feed around 4 a.m. Maybe he is the culprit. Maybe he jumps up on my bed and disturbs me enough to make me just barely wake up. I doubt it, but it could happen.

The more likely scenario is that Riley is waking me up. He is up and down all night long. He watches TV and fixes himself something to snack on. He talks to his computer which is right across the hall from my room. The TV is the source of loud angry rantings. Even though the television is in the den and I can’t hear the program when I’m in my room, I can clearly hear him screaming at the hosts of Chopped that having a time limit on cooking something is unreasonable. Riley makes his political point of view known when he says someone campaigning – loud and clear. Sometimes I wonder if he thinks the actors, hosts, politicians or contestants can actually hear him as he sits in his rocking chair in rural North Carolina.

My room. It is my haven from insanity. I retreat there often. I even eat my dinner in there. Wait a minute!! It used to be a place for me to rest and recharge my batteries. In long ago days it was sometimes a romantic place and other times it was hot and steamy. Ahhh… those were the days. But it was never, not ever, where I would eat my dinner! Meals were only eaten in my room if I were too sick to go to the dining room or kitchen. Something has to change here.

If you’ve been reading my blog for a while now, you know I always come up with a PLAN. My family will probably have engraved in my tombstone – She had a plan. My plans don’t always work out, but for my sleep situation, I have a plan.

It may take a few days to get the brain on board, but maybe by the time the weekend is over, I will be acclimated. I’m going to go back to eating in either the kitchen, dining room, office – anywhere that is NOT my bedroom. I’m not going to watch my soaps in my room. I have a wonderful hi-def television in the living room and it’s about time I started using it. Same thing goes for watching evening programs. In short, my bedroom will not be for watching television when I’m supposed to be sleeping.

Imagine that – my BEDroom will be used for sleeping, resting, recharging and/or maybe a little light reading before sleep. If my room becomes a sleeping place again, maybe I’ll get some sleep.

The door to my room will be shut and I might turn on a little “white” noise to block out the sound of Riley’s nighttime escapades. My humidifier might just do the trick. I’m supposed to be using it anyway.

Attaining any normalcy while in the midst of the insanity of caretaking an end-stage alcoholic is an extremely difficult task. Unfortunately it is a series of trial and error of different scenarios. To top it off, what works today may not work tomorrow. As Riley gets deeper into Wernicke and loses his ability to reason or the recognition of night from day, things will get more difficult. I expect that and that’s all the more reason I need to get as much rest as I can while I can.

Yes – I am more productive early in the morning, but maybe I’m more productive because I burn out earlier. I think I will still be more productive in the morning, but I’ll just me more rested and as a result thinking with a clearer mind. OMG!! I might start making sense!! Where would the fun be in that!?!?

Alexandra's story...

2012-02-06T17:52:00.000-05:00

Today I got an e-mail from one of my followers who had an interesting story to tell. She relates a recent visit to an emergency room in her area. It’s just another example of how the medical community fails to understand “end-stage” alcoholism and how they can help rather than see these patients as “throw-away” people.

This is Alexandra’s story:

I had quite an eye-opening experience at the ER today. Donald is my alcoholic "friend" and he is 50. His alcoholism is progressing and until last week he was still very functional. He was diagnosed with chronic calcific pancreatitis a few months ago, when he went to the ER in great pain. He's on Medicaid and goes to the local clinic where all the other Medicaid patients go and they were supposed to refer him to a GI doctor but never did.

Donald has pretty much stopped eating as of last week. He stopped bathing and changing his clothes. He's very confused when he's drinking and asks the same questions over and over. Some of his questions are getting quite nonsensical.

Last night he stepped on something in his room and cut the bottom of his foot. There was blood but he didn't show it to me until this morning and it had stopped bleeding by then but since he has diabetes, I told him maybe a trip to the ER would be a good thing because maybe he needed some stitches. I thought they could clean it up put in a stitch or two and properly dress it with bandages. I also hoped for a shot of antibiotic.

So I dropped him off at the ER door and went to park the car. When I got inside, he was telling the nurse that he had been ice fishing and fell through the ice and cut his foot! I shook my head and told the nurse no, that's really not what happened. Donald looked at me and said "It's not?" He was dead serious. I had heard of the guessing that alcoholics do when they can't really remember stuff but had never seen it in him this bad.

Then the doctor came in. I told the doctor he cut his foot, and that he was also losing weight, was having a lot of shakes and confusion and was throwing up a lot, etc. I also told the doc Donald had been diagnosed with pancreatitis. The doctor asked me if he was still drinking and I said yes.

I could see a look of disgust come over the doctor's face; it seemed as if, all of a sudden, Donald was a total waste of his time. The doctor told me that as long as he was still drinking his pancreatitis would get worse. He then barely glanced at Donald's foot and said to the nurse "just clean it up, put a Band-Aid on it and get him out of here," then he turned and left the room.

Then it was the nurse's turn. She said to me that he needs to stop drinking (Duh!) and that I shouldn't buy him anymore alcohol. I told her I don't buy it, that he goes and gets it himself. The nurse responded with he shouldn't be driving and I said that he doesn't drive, he walks! Then she said that lots of people have quit drinking, I should just "make" him stop and "all that happens is that they just get the shakes for a couple days and then they're ok."

I was just floored. She left the room. Both the nurse and the doctor had Donald just lying there with his shorts on and didn't even get him a blanket or gown. They knew he has diabetes, didn't bother to check his blood sugar.

Donald wanted to leave. I agreed since it didn’t seem that they were going to do anything for him anyway. He struggled to get his clothes back on and we left. No one seemed too concerned.

I just couldn't believe the callousness of that doctor and nurse. I realize the people in the ER are overworked but to just blow off someone just because they have an addiction is so sad. I wanted to get that doctor back in there and have him take a good look at Donald lying there all yellow and skinny and ask him "DO YOU THINK HE WANTS TO BE THAT WAY?"

It's sad to me that a doctor and nurse would think that alcoholism is so easily stopped and all someone has to do is stop drinking and that will be the magic bullet for this disease.

Unfortunately Alexandra’s story is not so unusual. Our medical community should treat all patients with the idea that they will help do what they can do. In this case, his foot needed to be examined and treated. It shouldn’t have made any difference that he had been drinking. Of course, we all understand that if he doesn’t stop drinking, he will continue to digress. But, that doesn’t mean he should get an infection in his foot and left with a new problem to be faced.

I understand that doctors want are in the business of saving the lives of people who want to be saved. I understand their frustration. All end-stage caretakers feel that frustration acutely. We should not be treated as though we don’t know what’s going on. Believe me. We all know exactly what’s going on.

If I had breast cancer and had cut my hand while washing dishes, should my hand be treated in spite of the fact that I may not live three more months. Of course it should. Why should it be any different for a person dying of any other malady?

Clipping to fiscal health...

2012-02-05T09:12:00.001-05:00

I spent yesterday with one of my surrogate daughters. She’s not exactly an extreme couponess, but she is the next best thing. We went up and down each aisle as she showed me how to calculate how much an item would actually cost if I used a certain coupon. I’ve been couponing for years, but lately I haven’t been using them as much. When she offered to help me, I jumped at the chance because I know that soon my financial situation will change drastically. Besides, what’s not to love about spending time with one of my girls!

The grocery store we went to is almost two hours away from me and I’d never been there before. I was pleased with all the different things they had to offer – like Tuscan stuffed Portobello mushrooms and fresh chopped asparagus with sliced mushrooms ready for stir-frying. I had to hold myself back or I would spend as much as I saved on things that I didn’t really need. But, I did load the stuffed mushrooms and asparagus into my cart along with a big bag of dog food (I had a $5 coupon).

Besides the fact that I’d get to spend some quality time with this person, the store was doubling all coupons up to $1.99. That’s a pretty good deal. But, I could only use 20 coupons per visit so I had to make sure I was using the ones that would save me the most. By the time the shopping was over I had saved as much as I had spent. OK. I’m a believer. I’ll be clipping every coupon I see and keeping them organized in my binder so I’ll be ready for the next trip – next Saturday.

I am trying to prepare for managing financially after Riley is gone. There’s not going to be much insurance money and I’m not sure if they will even pay because alcoholism may not be covered if is listed on the death certificate under cause of death. If the death certificate says something else other than alcoholism, I might get enough money to pay off my car and get him cremated. The Navy will take care of his burial at sea. There won’t be a memorial service since he really doesn’t know anyone around here. It will just be me, the kids and possibly a small handful of others, sitting around having a nice dinner and being happy it is over.

Fortunately, I will receive 55% of his military retirement pay and a portion of his social security. But, in essence I will have to live on half of our current income. I’ve always worked and had my own income which was always sufficient for my own needs. Things have changed, I don’t have an above-average paying job anymore and my social security check is far less than half of what I’m used to earning. In order to be a good girl scout and be prepared, I must get all this figured out before the inevitable happens.

My recent focus has been in finding my humor again and head towards a healthier lifestyle. I’ve taken some strides in that direction, but I must also lean towards a healthier financial life as well. I suppose I need a personal trainer for my money.

Although I’m a shopper at heart, I have always shopped with the idea of saving money rather than just getting what I would like to have. It’s like buying a yacht when you have no car. That makes no sense to me at all. I shop for high quality items that will last for more than just the moment. It takes a lot of work and research. I don’t mind, because I benefit in the end. My savings may not appear to be immediate, but if you look at the three-year (for example) big picture, I’ve saved a bunch.

If I had continued working, Riley would have continued to be covered under my life insurance umbrella and I would have received enough money that I would have been able to live nicely for several years. That is if I didn’t take long vacations and buy an Aviator. But, that insurance is gone because it was too expensive to continue it as a conversion. For many years Riley had a small policy for about $50K – that’s now gone as well because I didn’t know he had it until it had terminated.

I’m not fretting over the money. I have managed on much less than I will be getting after he is gone. My mother taught me the value of pinching pennies and how to get the most out of anything you have. Like Scarlett O’Hara, she turned drapes into a beautiful evening gown. My mother could take a pound of hamburger and turn it into two meals for a family of five. Old t-shirts were turned into dust clothes and old wash clothes were perfect dish rags. She canned fresh fruits and vegetables and made the yummiest jams and jellies. Clothes that I out-grew were passed down the line to one of my cousins. I learned a lot from my mother and I apply those teachings every day. It’s ingrained in my brain and to do anything else would feel unnatural.

One piece of advice I have for my readers who are involved with alcoholics who are not end-stage or to alcoholics who are still functional, would be to get an insurance policy now while you still can. Make sure it will pay even if alcoholism is the cause of death. Keep it to a smaller pay out so there won’t be a need for a medical exam. Then keep that policy in force no matter what. Pay it like you would your light bill. In the end it will be beneficial when you’re trying to figure out where the money is coming from for a funeral. Once the alcoholic gets to a certain point, he/she will be uninsurable and things will get complicated at the end.

Social Security will pay you a whopping $250 as a death benefit. The average cost of a cheap cremation is $1,800. So you better have at least $1,550 in savings just to get the alcoholic’s remains processed. That’s a harsh reality. Now you better have some more funds in there if you want a funeral which averages $6,000 these days. Of course, if you want flowers and a reception afterward – well – do you have about $10,000 side aside for that? If you’re like me, that would be an amount that I could not handle unless I had insurance.

I’m resourceful. Someone put that somewhere as a description of me one time. I don’t remember where or when, but I was proud for the designation. I will continue to clip my coupons and turn t-shirts into dust clothes. I’ll can and/or freeze fruit and vegetables when they are in season. My car will be paid off, but I’ll keep it well maintained in hopes of it lasting many years. I’ll keep my eyes open for a cheaper residence that will meet my needs and when the perfect one happens along, I’ll snatch it up.

Riley used to tell me that having a life insurance policy is like betting against one’s self. He never wanted one and saw no need because he would not get any benefit from it. It all goes back to his being self-focused. He always knew what he would get if I died, and liked that idea. But, he could never see how he would benefit if I got money as a result of his death. Little did he know, my life insurance policies do not provide from him at all. Instead a portion of the proceeds would be put into a trust for his care and managed by both my daughter and brother. The rest goes to my daughter and grandson.

So if I go first, Riley better take some coupon clipping lessons from someone. However, I doubt that anyone would be willing to teach him or even take him to the store. When one alienates so many people and family members for so long, one must expect, eventually, they will alienate you.

Who am I kidding?? I know my daughter will step in and try to save him. He is after all – still her father. And that, my friends, is why I must continue in my quest to a healthier lifestyle, physically, mentally and financially.

There's a lot of us...

2012-02-01T08:07:00.000-05:00

My grandmother had a saying, “It’s enough to make a preacher cuss.” She loved that phrase and used it every time she was frustrated or – as she would also say – exsasperatin’ over something. That’s pronounced ex-sas-per-ate-n. I’m sure she meant exasperating, but I like her version of the word better. It has character.

Caretaking is something I’ve done since I was a young girl. It was during my mother’s pregnancy with Evan (my fourth brother) that my grandmother became very ill with a kidney disease and came to live with us. She shared a bedroom with me. She shared and talked with me when the hallucinations, caused from her medications, didn’t have control of her brain. I loved her so much and wanted her strong, feisty qualities. For Grandma, having a kidney disease was not the worst thing about being sick. The worst thing was the loss of her independence. She hated being a burden. Eventually, Grandma was moved into a little cottage down the street. I spent my weekends tending to her while my aunt went out of town to work in a beauty salon.

The problem with caretaking is that, unless someone openly comes to your aid, you feel very much alone. I had a lot of family and they all helped me or advised me whenever I watched after Grandma. They were my support and my teachers. I always felt appreciated. But I was just a young lady, and my support system was comprised of much older women who didn’t have a lot of time to hold my hand. If they had had the time, they would have done the caretaking themselves. I was certainly not the first choice.

It is much the same for caretakers of end-stage alcoholics. We are seldom the first choice of caretaker in the eyes of the alcoholic. Heck, most alcoholics don’t even realize they are being taken care of. If they can’t acknowledge they are being taken care of, how can they appreciate or be grateful for having someone to take on the task. They can’t and they aren’t. It’s enough to make a preacher cuss.

Unfortunately, end-stage caretakers are different in that they don’t usually have a lot of people who are willing to lend a hand when things are difficult. The outside world gets tired of hearing the stories of wrong doings or absurd insanity. They just nod their heads and try to change the subject. What these outsiders don’t understand is that the constant reiteration is simply a way of reaching out for help. Oh hey, it’s not even a reach, it’s more like a cry out for help. The people you would expect to be “there” for the caretaker are not within reach or within the sound of the cry. Often they turn their backs and mumble something about making their own bed. It’s downright exsasperatin’!

If the caretaker is lucky, there may be a great Al-Anon group they can join. But, if you’re in an area like mine, there is only one in an area of 100 miles. And, my group, unfortunately, just doesn’t fit for me at this time and getting to the meetings is difficult. It does help to know that others in my town know who I am and what I am doing. For that I am thankful.

So it seems caretakers of end-stage alcoholics are really lone crusaders. We muddle along doing the best we can without much real knowledge of the true situation. We talk to anyone and everyone who will take the time to listen. We alienate people because we no longer have much to talk about except the horribleness of the situation. Everyone has advice. Everyone has an opinion. When we don’t take the advice or act on another’s opinion, we are deemed to be in denial. In some cases we are asked “How stupid can you be?” Well… I guess… by other people’s standards… we can be pretty stupid.

After awhile the caretaker begins to realize that the role they have taken is extremely lonely. They know they can’t be the ONLY one with this problem or the ONLY one who has made a choice to stay in this role. They are right. They are not the only ones.

I used to think I was the stupidest person in the world to take Riley back into my house. My brain and heart knew it was the right thing to do if I wanted to protect my daughter. But, I seemed to be constantly justifying the “why” of my actions. One part of me wanted to say – “Butt out! It’s none of your business.” And the other part of me knew I could not afford to alienate anyone who could possibly be a supporter in my cause.

It wasn’t until I started this blog that I found so many others in the exact same situation as me. It was comforting to know they were out there and they needed me as much as I needed them. They started commenting and e-mailing. I grew stronger with each one. I was energized by letting people know that there is help out there and that they could depend on others to understand.

I set up the Immortal Alcoholic page on Facebook and there was quite a bit of interest. But, people didn’t seem to post there very often. There was a group of faithful followers and that was good. But, I really felt there needed to be a more formal place, a meeting place similar to Al-Anon except for end-stager caretakers. I wanted a place for people to connect and support each other. I wanted a place for them to be able to vent.

Our Resource for Alcoholism Support of Family & Friends (OARS F&F Group) was created on Facebook as a private page. The only people who can view the comments on the page are members of the group. This provided some privacy and a means for the members to speak what is truly hanging heavy on their minds.

There are only a couple of rules about being on OARS. No one is allowed to be judgmental or critical of another member. There will be no hostility or derogatory comments. The page is like Vegas. What’s said there – stays there. That is until I remove it and I remove things often just to insure privacy. It’s a place where venting is not just tolerated, it is encouraged. Let it out – and then breathe!

It’s a small group right now, but it is growing. That makes me happy because it means people are finding they are NOT alone after all. They are not stupid or ignorant. The drummer they march to is not as unique as they once thought.

Originally, I only planned on visiting the page on Thursday evenings for the formal meeting. But, I’m finding that the members are not so much into the “meeting” as they are for the ability to write whenever they want. Someone almost always responds immediately or at least within a few minutes. It’s like talking to your neighbor through an open window about a recipe she shared with you. It’s comfortable, friendly, and if we could we would all meet in a mutually agreed upon city and have a cup of coffee.

Another nice thing about this page is that I don’t have to do anything to generate activity. I don’t have to give my input. No one is waiting on me. They just talk to each other. Imagine that – end-stage caretakers talking to each other!! I AM on the page daily and I try to post to comments often. But, it is gratifying to know that if I could not be there, it would go on without me.

So in the end, I guess you could say – I’m like my Grandma. I’m feisty, determined, and independent. But, I’m always willing to take support from wherever and who ever offers it. And, sometimes, OK – often -- I’m enough to make a preacher cuss!

Rehab & insurance stupidity...

2012-01-30T08:35:00.000-05:00

I am in awe of the stupidity of some rehab centers and insurance companies. Well, to be fair, it could be that I’m the stupid one because I just don’t understand.

A family member’s husband is an end-stage alcoholic and he was transported to the medical center via ambulance. While racing down the highway, he flat lined three times. This man is at the end of his end-stage journey. Fortunately, he was saved and, miraculously, lived through detoxification. Over the past couple of years, he has been through detox about 4 times. Each time he immediately returned to drinking.

Imagine this wife and children’s surprise when he announced he wasn’t coming home right away, but rather going to rehab. Well, OK, so it’s not is first time there either. In spite of that, everyone rallied around and offered up support for his decision.

The wife was asked if she would like to participate in the family program. She has been reading my blog and understands the importance of educating herself and her family in everything about alcoholism. She had never attended a family program before and she enthusiastically agreed. She asked if her husband’s sister could attend with her. The center responded that any family member may attend.

The ladies were excited for the opportunity and began to prepare for the 300 mile trip to the center. They didn’t have a lot of money, so they decided they would bring an ice chest so they could get food from a store and use the motel microwave to heat it up. They used their coupons to shop, cashed in aluminum cans and used every resource they had to scrape up some money.

Then they received the phone call telling them that the center needed payment for the program before they could reserve them a place. The cost is more than $200. Huh??? They were under the impression that they were being invited by the center as part of the husband’s rehab program. They thought the cost of the family program was included in the cost of alcoholic’s program. They were wrong. It not only was NOT covered in the alcoholic’s program, it was also NOT covered under the wife’s health insurance plan.

When I say NONE of the expenses were covered, I mean NONE. The wife not only has to pay the program fee, she also has to pay for her gas, lodging and food. She will not be allowed to use the cafeteria facilities at the center – which she was hoping she could do in order to have one solid meal a day. The program is 5 days long and that’s a long time to subsist on Hot Pockets, sandwiches, tv dinners, oatmeal and the $1 value menu of fast food restaurants.

A hasty recalculation was made and they determined they could not afford for the sister to attend the program. The wife asked for some money from her husband’s parents and she was able to pay the fee. She left on Sunday night and will return on the following Saturday after her husband’s release.

My irritation lies in the fact that the rehab center is so self-serving that they did not include the family in the alcoholic program’s cost. What is up with that?? Doesn’t everyone in the substance abuse industry understand that to return an alcoholic to an uneducated family environment is like throwing a fish back into a polluted pond?? Isn’t that common knowledge?

I find it counter-productive to supply an alcoholic with all the keys to achieving and maintaining sobriety and also expect the alcoholic in turn to educate the family. The alcoholic has all he/she can handle just staying inside the sobriety life preserver. The family inadvertently sabotages the alcoholic’s effort, not because they WANT to, but rather because they don’t know any better.

Fortunately, for this alcoholic, the wife has been reading my blog and has my workbook (The Workbook for Caretakers of End-Stage Alcoholics). She was fairly well-educated before she got to the center. But still, she says the program was good for her because it was more of a classroom environment. She didn’t want to demean what she had learned from me, but to hear the same things in a classroom environment made the whole thing more “real.” As a couple they received some one-on-couple counseling and that was extremely helpful.

The couple was very grateful they could gather the funds for the program and have the wife attend. It was money well spent. The only regret was that the sister (who is extremely close to the alcoholic) wasn’t able to reap the benefits. The sister will gain knowledge from reading the blog and helping to update the wife’s workbook.

No one knows for sure how long the alcoholic will stay on the road to recovery. We all pray he will maintain his sobriety. He’s a really great guy, wonderfully devoted father and an award-winning grandfather – that is when he is sober.

If you are a director of a rehab center – do you include at least ONE family member in a family program covered in the fee of the alcoholic’s program? If not – why not?? I truly hate to say this and I hate even imagining that it may be true – but is your center looking forward to the alcoholic’s relapse so they can be re-admitted to your center?? That would let the center reap the financial reward from the insurance company — yet again. Is it a one-for-two kinda thing? One person – two fees?

Just the suggestion of such a thing is so distasteful to me that I hope I get lots of angry comments, not just from my readers, but also from rehab centers around the world. Defend yourself – PLEASE – tell me why it makes sense to NOT include the family program in the cost of the alcoholic’s program.

I know for a fact that there are rehab centers that include a family program. If they can do it, I see no reason why they can’t ALL do it.

And to all the health insurance companies – do you not understand that getting the family member into a program might just prevent health issues later on?? Stress causes illnesses. Alcoholism or any substance abuse causes stress for the families. This is not a new, enlightened statement. So why are the insurance companies so far behind the times? The fact that they do NOT cover family programs as an individual benefit only costs the other policy holders more money. Who do you think pays the price when insurance companies have to pay out for heart attacks, strokes and a variety of other illnesses? The premiums go up and everyone with a policy pays. Well… maybe that’s what they want… for us to pay higher and higher premiums. I guess there may be big money in that.

I’m just a simple girl. You can add to that – loud-mouthed and opinionated. I’m not a medical professional or an insurance expert. However, I am not stupid or ignorant. I strive to be informed. Maybe I have unrealistic expectations as I have a tendency to do that, but I expect anyone dealing with alcoholic/addiction rehabilitation to have a realistic, informed and intelligent program leading to sobriety. I expect our insurance carriers to do the math and stop sticking their heads in the sand as to the far reaching consequences of addition.

Does anyone else see the absurdity or am I the one who is off the rocker?

OARS and My Route to Help Forum...

2012-01-28T06:51:00.001-05:00

OARS F&F Group on Facebook is a private page devoted to providing support to caretakers of end-stage alcoholics. We hold a weekly meeting at 7 p.m. EST every Thursday. This is an active group and there is almost always someone on line for whenever you feel a need to vent. You don't have to wait for the meeting to talk to someone.

You will only find support here. You will not be judged or ridiculed or criticized in any manner. What you will find here is a listening ear. What you write is private so only members will be able to read what you are writing. I delete posts and comments when requested and try to keep the page clean.

To join the OARS F&F Group go to Facebook. Then to the OARS F&F group page and request permission to join the group. I’ll accept your request as soon as possible. Next find the post from Wednesday (1/25/2012) at 4:58 pm and enter the area where you reside. You don’t have to be specific just give me a general idea. Then post a brief description of your situation. You will be welcomed by the members and ready to vent away – or ask for advice or opinions. Just know that we are all in the same boat and we are each our own lifesavers.

A NEW FORUM IN TOWN:

I was contacted by Ash Davidson who has a site dedicated to recovery from all substance abuse issues. He started this site about 7 months ago and also volunteers as a substance abuse worker. Ash has asked me to post in his forum on his site.

I checked it out and have agreed to post in the forum. I will also be writing an article that will appear on the site. The forum is a good place to give your opinion or offer input on the topics already in progress. If you want, you can start your own topic.

We all know that end-stage caretaking can generate hostility as it did on a forum site that I will not name. This is a chance for us to get some attention concerning our needs without the hostility shown to us in the past. On this site we can advocate for better communication with the medical professionals, the need for hospice, insurance coverage for family programs, etc. We are an under-recognized group and it’s time we made our voice heard.

Please join me on My Route To Help (http://www.myroutetohelp.com/) – and speak up!!

In the crapper...

2012-01-28T05:52:00.000-05:00

I love Fridays. That’s the day my housekeeper comes and wipes away a week’s worth of dirt. After she leaves, my house smells clean and feels clean. She vacuums and dusts and makes everything shiny. She is well worth the money I pay her.

There are parts of the house that I don’t allow her to clean. Riley’s room and bathroom are off limits to her. It’s a little dangerous for anyone who cleans Riley’s bathroom, so I prefer to do it myself because I have a system. His bedroom is up to him. He changes his own linens and never eats in his room, so it isn’t too bad. That is except for the times he’s spilled drinks, vomited or pooped at his bedside. Fortunately, I have an area rug over the carpet so I can simply throw it out and get a new one.

When I clean the bathroom, I look like one of those people in a movie about a villain releasing a bio-chemical virus into the air so that he/she can rule the world. My camera is broken or I’d take a picture of me in full bathroom cleaning gear and so you could see how ridiculous I look. I wear a disposable paper surgical gown and pants, a surgical mask, goggles, and latex gloves. In my hand I have a roll of paper towels and a spray bottle of bleach/water. I also have my steam mop ready and waiting as well as a pail of other cleaning supplies. After all that – I’m ready for task that will probably take me 2 hours.

I know what you’re thinking – this broad is definitely a crazy over-achiever. OK. I understand where you’re coming from. Maybe this will help you understand – the first week of the New Year 2010 I was in the emergency room. I was unable to control my bowels. We are NOT talking about a little ooooppps here, if you get my drift. I was feverish, in pain, vomiting. I was so sick and I thought I had the flu. I was informed that there was no flu “going around” at that time and I had probably contracted some kind of intestinal virus. They took some tests, prescribed me some meds and sent me home.

Two days later, I got a call from the public health department, informing me that I had salmonella. I had to tell them where I had eaten over a period of time and who I had been in contact with outside of my family. Before she even finished her explanation, I knew how I had gotten it.

I had cleaned Riley’s bathroom. I had on gloves, so I thought I was safe. I didn’t realize until I talked to the public health nurse that it doesn’t take any more than a speck of crud to make me sick. I didn’t have on a mask or goggles. I could have breathed in particles of poop that were dislodged from surfaces while I was cleaning. They could have entered through my eye sockets. When I was cleaning the floor, I was on my hands and knees in my regular clothes. I didn’t think about removing those jeans right away and throwing them in the wash. I thought I was doing a good thing by wearing the gloves. I was misinformed.

Salmonella is a horrible illness. People have been known to die from it. If you’ve ever had a stomach bug, think about that multiplied by ten. It is violent. There is uncontrollable, projectile everything, fevers and shakes, pain everywhere from the whacking of your muscles. And it’s contagious. So you’re pretty much isolated through the entire thing. I will wear full hazardous waste attire if it will keep me from contracting that again.

So, I leave the bathroom to be cleaned every other month rather than every week. No one uses the bathroom but Riley. I keep the door closed, but eventually the mess will appear on the door jambs and walls leading to his bedroom. That’s when I know it is time to get my stunning outfit on and clean up what he leaves behind.

Riley makes small attempts to clean it, but those attempts are happening less frequently now. He really doesn’t care about cleanliness. After all, he hasn’t showered in 18 months. If he doesn’t care about his personal cleanliness, why would he care about the bathroom?

I accept that he doesn’t care about his personal cleanliness or the bathroom. Why, then, does he scream at me when he thinks I’ve neglected my own room or office? Oh yeah! I forgot for a moment! He’s brain damaged. He has lost the ability to reason or logic. There’s no point in my stating the obvious to him because for him what makes sense is what is coming out of his mouth at the moment.

By the time I remember the brain damage, I’m already frustrated and just a bit guilty because my room is messy. I haven’t chided him in any way about his room. I seldom mention it or his odiferous body. When he yells at me about cleanliness, it’s always based on some way he thinks I should be.

I wish you knew Riley way back when. He was a handsome guy. He was meticulous about his personal hygiene, clothing and environment. He always cleaned his apartment on Saturday morning and that was also the day he picked up and dropped off clothes at the cleaners. I loved that about him. I loved the order of his life. It was a stark contrast from my semi-chaotic life at my parent’s house with multiple kids and uncertain schedules.

During the times when he is upset with me over the status of my room or my stack of undone laundry, I see bits of that old clean-freak Riley. There must be a battle going on inside his head. The old Riley seems to be having a continuing argument with the new Riley and no one is winning. In brief moments of clarity, it must be extremely confusing and frustrating for him.

Riley likes Fridays too. Occasionally he will impose himself in the cleaning process and make the housekeeper’s job a bit more difficult. But, for the most part, he leaves her alone to do her job. When she’s in the middle of wiping down the countertops and Riley needs to get to his booze to make a drink, she is patient and waits for him to finish. They seem to have an understanding – they leave each other alone.

Hiring the housekeeper is one of the best things I’ve ever spent money on. She doesn’t charge me a lot – but she is worth millions. She relieves my stress and frees me so I can do other things. Now that I have her, I’m like a teenager who’s going steady. I don’t want her to ever leave me. Men may come and go, but a housekeeper should be forever.

As for the bathroom, this is part of the life of an end-stage caretaker. There’s nothing glamorous about it. It is a shitty job – literally.

Recipe for frog soup...

2012-01-25T06:31:00.002-05:00

I’ve written a couple of posts about co-dependency: Co-dependent enabler on August. 20, 2011 and You may be co-dependent on November 20, 2010. That’s just in case you want to check them out because here comes another post about co-dependency.

While watching an episode of A&E’s Intervention, I heard this statement: “At the heart of co-dependency is chronic neglect self.” I did some research and found this statement on the website for Orange County Detox Center. You can find it here http://www.orangecountydetox.com/codependency.html.

OK. I get it. However, I have to disagree that it is the HEART of co-dependency, but rather it is a result of being co-dependent. In my opinion the true heart of being co-dependent is having a need for the alcoholic to remain an active drinker. In other words, there has to be some kind of reward in the drunkenness. That reward will often discourage the non-alcoholic from pushing or taking action to get the alcoholic sober. The reward becomes so important that the non-alcoholic loses focus on their own health or well-being that they begin to neglect themselves. In a sense, they become addicted to having an addicted partner.

I have openly stated before that I don’t buy into the entire co-dependency theory. I’m positively sure that it happens. There is no doubt in my mind about that. I just don’t believe that it is an absolute for each and every case in relationships with alcoholics.

I remember the first time I was told I was a co-dependent. I was extremely insulted. How dare this counselor tell me I actually wanted Riley to stay drunk. It was absurd. I did not need him to be drunk, nor did I find any pleasure in his drunkenness. I had nothing to gain from continued alcoholic behavior and just wanted it all to stop. With my most excellent 20/20 hindsight vision – I still do not see how I benefited from Riley being a drunk.

I think that often it is the old frog soup scenario. If you don’t know how to make frog soup, I’ll refresh your memory –

If you put a frog into a pot of boiling water, it will jump out immediately. If you put the frog in a pot of cold water and slowly bring the water to a boil – you’ll end up with frog soup.

Alcoholism is a progressive disease that can start very slowly as a little pimple on the butt of a relationship and can grow into a cavernous cancerous boil devouring any flesh that comes in contact. Caretaking is the same way. It may start with fixing a bowl of chicken-noodle soup because the alcoholic doesn’t feel well and then you find yourself cooking four-course meals every single night to keep him with you at dinnertime because it’s the only way he will talk to you. Maybe that’s not a good analogy, but it’s the best I can do at the moment.

I know that there are people who have a need to fix others. For them it may be an addiction all by itself. I believe these fixers need to focus on other people’s lives because it is too painful to focus on their own. I understand that. But, I have never ever heard a woman say “I’m going to a bar and pick up a drunk to sleep with tonight because I just love cleaning up vomit first thing in the morning.” And I’m never heard a man say, “I love having sex with a drunk because they pass out in the middle of the act.” Or how about, “I want a full house for my birthday so I’m going to invite a bunch of drunks because I know they will come if there is free booze.”

Over the years I’ve been around a lot of drunks and a lot of people married to drunks. Not even once did I ever hear anyone say that they wanted to marry a drunk. Not once did I ever hear anyone say they wouldn’t change a thing because being with a drunk is a good life. No, instead what happens is we marry the love of our life and gradually it becomes frog soup with a side of vodka. The lucky ones realize it and jump out of the pot. Others are already cooked before they even know they are in a pot.

As long as I’m on the subject, how can a person try to get a person into recovery and at the same time let the alcoholic hit bottom? Those are two opposing goals. Maybe to stop being co-dependent means walking away. I can whole heartedly support that theory. The co-dependent walks away and lets the alcoholic hit bottom.

So let’s go back to the issue of chronic neglect of self. I raise my hand high because I am totally, absolutely, with a doubt, guilty of this. I often neglect my own needs while in the process of caretaking Riley. I do it with my kids as well, but Riley is my main catalyst. Lately, it seems, I’m far deeper into the self neglect thing than I have been in a long time. I didn’t realize how bad I had gotten until I started thinking about that line in the Intervention program.

Riley’s demands have become more demanding and his insane ideas have become even more insane. I try to reason with a person who can’t be reasoned with because there is no longer a sense of logic in the alcohol infused brain. I let down my boundaries to keep peace in the house. I tolerate behavior that I would never tolerate in myself. I don’t do it because I like it. I do it because it is easier than fighting it.

The farther we go into the progression towards the end of his days, the more I seem to forget that I have a person that needs me more than Riley. I need me. In fact, I need me more than he needs me.

I don’t usually make New Year’s resolutions. I know it’s almost February, but I’m making a resolution – we can call it a New Month resolution. I resolve to take better care of me. I resolve to find my humor again. I resolve to not let Riley destroy my sanity with his insanity.

The process of my own recovery has already begun. I’ve e-mailed the AA center to try to get some members out to spend some time with Riley. (Thanks to Syd for the suggestion.) I am having my own sessions with Gill, the addition counselor. I have started a new food program and have ordered an elliptical machine. I am going back to squeezing in some time for my sewing and design projects. I am finding myself again.

Make no mistake. Finding oneself is not as easy as it sounds. But, I didn’t feel like a co-dependent before I started this re-direction and I don’t feel like one now. I DO think I was neglecting myself, but I’m not sure if it was chronic. I think maybe it was a temporary detour in the highway of my life.

Time changes us...

2012-01-22T06:43:00.000-05:00

My older brother, Richard, and I always tolerated each other. Being the first child born to the youngest in my father’s family and the oldest in my mother’s family, he was… well… a little bit spoiled as an infant. He was the golden-haired grandchild. Until he was almost three years old, he ruled the house.

I, on the other hand, was second in the chain and by the time I arrived, my parents were far more seasoned at keeping me from being spoiled rotten. I was a delicate, tiny little girl and my father was a giant of a man and could fit me in his palm. Richard saw my arrival as a threat to his kingdom and, although he was protective of me, he was a bit stand-offish. Like – oh yeah – it’s a lttle girl – can I go outside now?

As we grew older we knew that we loved each other, but there was always a bit of distance between us. When we became young adults and he married my best friend, Carrot, we had directly opposing points of view on almost everything. After our younger brother and mother died, Richard and I made a switch in our relationship – we became extremely close. When he had leukemia, I moved into his house to help take care of him. It was no surprise to me that we discovered I was his bone marrow match. He didn’t live that long to get the transplant.

I was talking to a high school friend yesterday. He was in Richard’s graduating class and I knew they knew each other and were friendly, but I didn’t know that they were very good friends. They were both bench warmers on the football team and spent a lot of time talking while the rest of the team the kicked ass of our opponents.

What I didn’t realize was that back in high school Richard and this friend had been bullied. When I first heard of the friend being bullied I was surprised because I never really thought there was much bullying in my school. Maybe we called it something different back then, I don’t know. But, I was really shocked to find out that Richard had been bullied. In the mind of a teenage girl, I saw Richard as big and strong and taking no grief from anyone. How could I have been so wrong?

I came from a long line of teasers on my father’s side. Teasing was a way of life in our house. Kids were expected to toughen up, tease back or spend a lot of time in tears. Richard was a pro at it. But, maybe, he wasn’t teasing – maybe he was bullying me because he was bullied at school. Maybe he had no power at school – could not fight back without repercussions – so he took it out on me. That made sense to me.

The friend told me of a conversation where Richard expressed that if anyone ever hurt me, he would “go after” the person. He left the friend with the knowledge that Richard loved me very much and although we didn’t communicate very well – he would always be there for me.

After our talk, I saw Richard from a different point of view. He was a bit vulnerable and while he was protecting me, who was protecting him? It seems that as hard as high school was for me – it must have been ten times harder for him. My image of him is a little softer now.

I wonder what it was like to be Riley when he was a high schooler? I know he was very smart, but what was his social life like? Did he have a lot of friends or did he just have his brother who is only ten months younger? Did he go to parties? Was he a “square” or a popular guy? Was he bullied or teased or was he the one doing that? I’ll probably never get the answers, but it would be interesting to know.

If I had those answers, I might see Riley in a whole new light. I might understand why he dropped out of college and joined the Navy. He says it’s because the Army recruiter was at lunch and the Navy’s door was open. But that doesn’t tell me why. What caused him to go to the recruiter’s at all?

I do know that when Riley entered college, he started drinking. I also know he had a girl friend that dumped him during his first college year. I know facts related by him to me. But, I don’t know why. It seems it must have been a pivotal year in his life and I wish I knew more about it.

Riley thinks he knows everything about my childhood and high school years. It’s no wonder that he thinks that. I am, after all, mostly an open book. I freely tell people about some of my most embarrassing moments. Most of my school friends describe me as “sweet, nice, friendly”, but would they still think that if they opened my closet and some of my teenage skeletons fell out? In a way, being sweet and nice and friendly is one of the reasons there’s even a need for a closet. To rebel against the sweetness, I found things to do that weren’t so sweet – at least in my mind.

I’ve never been to a high school reunion so I haven’t had the luxury of seeing how people change after graduation. I have no before and after images. The way a person was in high school, in my mind, is what I would expect them to be now 40+ years later. A lot can happen in 40 years.

Riley’s class is planning some kind of get together to celebrate 55 years since graduation. He likes going to these reunions and I wish he could go to this one. I wish I could go with him to this one. I might learn something about who Riley was during that time.

The reality is that to take Riley to the reunion would be impossible. He could never handle the eighteen hour drive in his present condition. And since he doesn’t shower, his classmates would surely be offended by his odor. A social event such as this, I’m sad to say, is just not something he can do.

Knowledge is the key to survival. If I knew more about Riley before he was an alcoholic, maybe I would have treated him differently before he became end-stage and then never reach this point. I know the person I see today is not the one I married. It’s hard to keep my groom in my vision when he is so mean and hateful now. If I knew more about his teen years, maybe I would see a progression from a sweet boy to an angry asshole.

I don’t see how it would make any difference now. Riley is beyond the point of being able to articulate feelings from his childhood or adolescence. It is too late for him. But, still… it would be interesting to know.

Biding my time...

2012-01-20T07:00:00.001-05:00

Thank you everyone for your concern and support. I have taken to heart all your advice and suggestions and I have come up with a plan. I also want to thank my friend, Gill, for being the cornerstone of the plan he helped me create.

Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. Using that definition, I am the one who is insane. I continue to try to get Riley to understand reason and conform to societal rules. The insanity is that I often think I’ve gotten through to him. I have not and I will not ever achieve my goal. It’s insane for me to try.

I never expect that Riley will choose sobriety. I never anticipate that he will come to me and tell me he wants to go back to rehab. On this issue, I am a realist. I don’t fight it or push for it anymore. We are way beyond that point. Riley is way beyond that point.

Riley is dangerous. He has no concern for the health or safety of anyone else. He wants what he wants and will use any means to get it. If someone gets hurt along the way, then that person should have stayed out of his way. If the person who gets hurt happens to be Riley – he doesn’t care as long as he gets what he wants at the moment. Like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum, he wants instant gratification.

Riley is a self-imposed captive in this house because his drinking prevents him from being able to be with other people. I am his keeper and because of that, I am the one he hates. He sees me as a road block to attaining the elusive instant gratification. He has no choice but to take his anger out on me and, since he is not physically abusive, he turns to passive aggression. It’s really not his fault. He’s just trying to survive in the manner that he wants.

The past three days of frustration, elevated blood pressure, headaches and tears, are my fault. His drinking is not my fault – my expectations are my fault. I was so relaxed when I came back from OBX that I forgot to regain my “Riley’s keeper” persona before I entered the house. I was not objective and forgot about the past repeating itself. I let my guard down. I allowed myself to argue with a man who no longer has any logical reasoning ability. It’s like me trying to convince my potted mums not to go dormant for the winter. Those mums are on auto-pilot. No matter what I say, they will be ugly until spring.

In the past, Riley has always just let me do the things that needed to be done because he knew I was “taking care” of him. He was always a little paranoid, but for the most part, I can just tell him I’m doing something and he has been OK with that. But, things have changed. I believe his brain is so damaged that he now sees me as a threat. He is conflicted. He wants to get away from me because I’m not letting him do what he wants, but he also wants to stay because he knows I’ll keep him safe. It is a true contradiction and if I were Riley, I’d probably be expressing mercurial emotions just as he is doing.

Don’t misinterpret my post as feeling sorry for him. There is none of that here. He created his own mess and now he has to deal with the consequences. He has been vocal to everyone about his intentions to drive while drunk and also to do whatever he pleases in spite of the laws or rules. He isn’t to be pitied and I have very little compassion for his situation. And that situation is going to get a lot worse for him.

When I called Gill, I just wanted to come by his office and drop off a copy of the new workbook. But, I also asked if there was any way he could help me with getting Riley’s driver’s license revoked. Gill is an addiction counselor who works for the State of North Carolina. He evaluates drunk drivers and offers a treatment plan. He also conducts classes and groups in his office. Both Riley and I have known him for more than 30 years.

During our phone call, I told Gill that I needed to find a way to keep Riley from driving, even though I was taking him to DMV to get his car registered. I told him I was considering filing an order of incompetency. When he offered to help make that happen, my energy was renewed with the knowledge that I now had an ally.

He told me to call the last hospital where Riley was a patient and have them fax over whatever was in the medical records. Then, he would have a meeting with Riley and ask him some questions to determine where he stands on the issue of sobriety as well as the level of his drunkenness. We would gather the information and put it into a court-friendly format. It will take some time (maybe a couple of weeks) to gather all the info and create a concise evaluation. But, it will be worth it.

Right now, I’m just a wife making accusations. With Gill at my side I am a woman who has explored the options and done her due-diligence. My opinions become facts. I have validation.

After getting the car taken care of, we went to Gill’s office. It wasn’t like a regular counseling session. It was less formal. Riley didn’t understand that he was being evaluated. Riley was just having a conversation with an old friend. I was in and out of the office and, for the most part, I kept my mouth shut. Gill had Riley blow into the breathalyzer and he blew a .18 – twice the legal limit.

A couple of hours went by when Riley became fidgety because he had not had a drink in several hours. He was more agitated and confrontational. It was time to end things for the day. But, Gill asked Riley to come back on Monday when they could have some one-on-one time with me out of the room. Riley agreed. In the back of my mind I was thinking on Monday I could file the incompetency papers and have my nails done or just sit in the little bookstore/coffee shop. I could do something without worrying about what Riley was doing. That was a huge relief.

Things were quieter in my house last night. I won’t say peaceful – just quieter. I feel less chaotic, more focused and less likely to expect anything from Riley except illogical, disjointed reasoning and thoughts. I will do my best to try to find some humor in his contradictions. I will agree with whatever he says because to do anything else will just wind up the Merry-Go-Round. Just because I am agreeable doesn’t mean I’m going to act on anything he says. I’m just buying time, buying a peaceful household until Monday.

Insanity at sunrise...

2012-01-19T07:05:00.001-05:00

I spent three days in the Outer Banks visiting my grandson’s family. I was supposedly making the visit to help them move into their new house. I DID help with putting things away and watching after the babies while they did the really hard stuff. But, spending the time with my great-grandchildren was helping me far more than helping my grandson.

On the morning of the second day, I woke up and found out Riley had called me seven times during the night. I called him to ask what was wrong. He just wanted to tell me that Jax was almost out of food and that I needed to buy some more Diet Coke. Ohhh… OK… I reminded him I would be stopping at the grocery store on my way home. There were many more calls during my visit and each one was about some mundane thing that amounted to nothing.

I returned home late Tuesday afternoon. Riley asked if he could unload the car for me and I told him, NO. I would take care of the car. I had brought in his vodka and the cat food. There was nothing in the car that couldn’t wait until the windy rain stopped – even if that were a day or so.

Riley wanted chili dogs for dinner, but I knew I would not feel like cooking so I had picked up some Chinese take-out. I knew it wasn’t chili dogs and that could be a problem, but we hadn’t had Chinese food in a long time. Besides I got him a dish that had lobster in it, so he would probably like that. As soon as I had gotten in the house and took my bag to my room, I got started on fixing his plate. He liked the idea of the take-out and I thought to myself, “Good. I won’t get any flack from not fixing chili dogs.”

The next morning Riley joined me in my office as he usually does. If I’m lucky we will have a relatively decent conversation before the insanity kicks in. But, I was wrong. Insanity was already there staring at me from across the desktop.

The minute he sat down, Riley asked how our money was. I told him I hadn’t checked the bank account yet, but was sure everything was fine. I let him know that I bought groceries for the kids and a few odds and ends they needed for the new house. He seemed to think that was a good idea. I thought the money subject was covered and I could go on to other things – like writing my blog post and working on the website. And I did just that. Riley left the office and I thought he had gone back to bed.

It was just about 30 minutes later when he returned to the office and asked if I had checked the money. I figured he just didn’t remember what I had told him previously. I reiterated everything I told him earlier. He seemed satisfied with my answer and went back to his room. But, he returned again and told me I had to check the money.

My first thought was, he must have spent some money and didn’t tell me. He must have figured out how to get into the account or use the debit card. Something was up. I went to the bank account and everything was just as I had said – it was fine. No weird expenditures. No unexpected debits or credits. I informed Riley how much was in the account and that everything was fine. Once again, I thought I could get back to my day.

Next up on Riley’s agenda was why I hadn’t gotten dressed yet. I was still in my big T-Shirt and was comfortable. I saw no need for to get out of my comfort zone before 10:00 AM and if I didn’t get dressed at all – so what? I told Riley that I had decided that I wasn’t going to do anything at all today except rest. I knew that he was not going to leave me alone long enough to get any work done. But, he didn’t like that. He wanted me to get dressed. Instead I went to my room and shut the door. I needed to get away from him for a while.

About an hour later, Riley was sitting at his computer when I opened the door to my room. I was met by the neighbor’s dog – in the hallway of my house! When I looked outside I saw the front passenger car door standing open. WHAT??!! I shooed the dog out and closed the car door.

It was time for Riley and I to have a sit-down. I asked him to join me in the office and he complied. I asked what was going on. He looked at me in confusion. He said I needed to get dressed and everything had to be brought in from the car – NOW! He was yelling at me that things needed to be done NOW. Dinner had to be decided on. Grocery needed to be bought. The frig needed to be cleaned out. My laundry needed to be put away. WAIT A MINUTE!! He is not to EVER do my laundry. He just wanted to help. He didn’t understand why that was so upsetting to me. I cringed and told him there was “nothing that needed to be done that couldn’t be done later.” Nothing was that extremely important. He countered me and then asked – “Why are you so angry with me???”

Then it hit me. It was the 18^th of January. It was Riley’s self-imposed deadline date for getting the car registered or he would have all the direct deposits stopped. I tried to be evasive while attempting to get him to say what he really wanted. When he said that there were errands to be run, I asked what errands?? He informed me that the car had to be registered today. I told him it was not in his best interests to have the car registered. A gigantic round robin discussion ensued, ending with me picking up the phone and calling the Sherriff’s department. I put the call on speaker and asked Riley what his intentions were with the car after it was registered. He clearly told the officer that he was intending to drive the car – drunk or sober. He stated he did not care about the other people on the road. He said that if drunk driving was such a big deal, he would have been given a lot more tickets, since he had only gotten ONE in the past ten years.

The officer told me to take him off speaker and so he could talk to me privately. He told me I needed to have Riley committed as being a danger to other people. He would be put in a 72-hour evaluation and then forced into rehab. I thanked him for his advice, but explained that at Riley’s stage a non-medically supervised detox would be paramount to a death sentence for him. I also told him, he had been declined admission to all the rehab facilities and nursing homes in a 200 mile radius. The officer told me he understood my frustration and to please call if I needed someone to come out and offer assistance.

Riley didn’t leave it at that. My frustration was growing and he knew it. So he pushed some more. I felt a constant bombardment by Riley of what I thought I should be doing and asking over and over – why I was so angry with him. He stated that he was just trying to take care of business and make things easier for me. He couldn’t keep the neighbor’s dog out of the house and left the door open when he was “helping” me get the car emptied. He was being considerate by doing my laundry. He was just trying to keep things on track by reminding me of the things that needed to be done.

When I had been pushed to my limit I screamed at him to leave me alone!! That’s when he told me I was crazy. And that’s when I knew exactly what was happening.

Riley was angry that I had been gone over the weekend. He wanted my undivided attention. And since he was not one to lie on the floor and kick his feet – he used passive aggression to make his point. He does it all the time – I don’t know why it took me so long to recognize it. He will push me by doing things he knows I don’t want him to do and when I finally lose my temper, he looks at me in amazement like my head is spinning around while perched on my neck. Then, he is never to blame for anything because he is always calm and never raises his voice.

I told him I would be spending the rest of the day and night in my room and to not bother me for anything even if the house were burning down. I told him to heat up the left over take out and closed the door behind me. That’s where I stayed until this morning.

It’s quiet. He’s still asleep and I can get this written before the insanity begins again. I’m back to day one of this blog – insanity is only a few minutes past sunrise.

Riley "hearts" Riley...

2012-01-16T04:00:00.000-05:00

Occasionally, there is some truth that comes out of Riley’s arguments and attempts at getting me to see his point of view. Today it was that he doesn’t believe that his womanizing or drinking has ever been a real problem for him. The fact that it has destroyed two marriages and ended many potentially great relationships has no bearing on anything to him. He states that was not his problem, but the problem of the women in his life. It was their problem because they would not have the advantage of his companionship or sexual prowess. Hummm… it must be that big d***k thing again.

He went on to tell me that he has NO moral values as far as women or sex is concerned. He felt that it is almost an obligation to have sex with any woman who would want to participate in that activity with him. He says he would not, could not, did not, or ever want to say NO to any woman if she said she was interested. For him, friendship with a woman must be sexual. He has no interest in any woman he isn’t having sex with or if there is no potential for sex. In fact, he really doesn’t like women very much – just the sex part of it. That explains a lot.

I asked if he felt a sense of loss for not having these women in his life. His answer was it was their loss and not his.

Per Wikipedia, Riley is displays classic narcissistic traits:

NARCISSISM – An unrealistic sense of superiority; pursues power at all costs, lacks normal inhibitions in its pursuit; Concerns limited to expressing socially appropriate response when convenient; devalues and exploits others without remorse; lacks values; easily bored; often changes courses.

Well… there you have it. I’m disturbed that I loved this man for so many years and never saw these traits until late in our marriage. He must have lied to me every single day when he said he loved me. Did he lie to me when he wrote those incredibly beautiful love letters during those long deployments? I just don’t know and I don’t think I want to know if the answer is YES, he did lie.

I know just about the exact time frame when Riley began drinking alcoholicly. It was just about the time when we began having some difficulty in our relationship. What had once been easy and genuine became difficult and suspect. I remember my mother telling me that I must work harder at the marriage if I wanted to keep him around. I remember being told that marriage was not a 50/50 partnership, but rather a 70/30.

I listened and I tried harder. I would strive to be a better wife, lover, companion, mother and anything else I thought he needed me to be. I tried to be more accepting, more open-minded, but it only caused me to be upset with myself because I was going against my own value system. Riley had friends that I did not care for, yet I extended my hand in friendship over and over again while knowing these friends did not really like me. I waited for Riley to do the “right thing” and admit that he didn’t want me in his life.

He never admitted that to me. He kept me hanging on by making small changes and trying to placate me. But in reality, all his attempts at “working” on our marriage were just more ways of lying to me and keeping me around because I was a guarantee of sexual satisfaction.

When Riley was forced into retirement by the Navy, he finally confessed that our marriage was not really about love and commitment, but rather about necessity. He portrayed a better image as a married man with a family than he did as a single man. It made it easier for him to bed down his friend’s wives who shared his moral values. He could easily take time off work because his wife or child was sick, had an appointment or some other fabricated need. He further explained that he liked having sex with me and he knew he could have sex whenever he desired just by keeping me in the same residence. The day that I told Riley I wanted out was the happiest day of his life because without the Navy he had no real need for me.

I’m very sure that most of what he said was true. But, I am totally convinced that it was not that way from the start. I believe Riley loved me deeply at the start and for many years after we solidified our relationship. But, I also believe that the alcohol damaged him and altered his way of thinking into one of a narcissistic ass. He is – in fact – brain damaged. Maybe he was always narcissistic, but it just wasn’t as obvious.

I feel sorry for Riley. I have known the joy of love so strong and so unconditional that even a separation from the person cannot diminish the feeling. I have loved enough to let someone go in spite of how much I wanted him to stay. Riley, I believe, has never had that feeling. In spite of the fact that at one time, I believe, he loved me deeply, he has never experienced the reward of putting someone’s needs above his own. Oh – there are little bits of and pieces of it. But, there was never anything major.

I hold on to the bits and pieces in my memory because to do otherwise is just too painful. I promised to stand by Riley in better or worse – this has been the worst. The trick is holding onto the good memories of a sober loving man while dismissing the narcissistic babbling of a brain damaged alcoholic.

My advice for other wives in my position – just keep repeating the mantra – he is brain damaged.

It's MY money...

2012-01-15T04:00:00.000-05:00

This morning Riley came into my office, much the same as he does every other morning, and we started having our usual rational conversation. Things were going well. We were talking about upgrading him to a real twin bed rather than the twin sized futon he has always preferred sleeping on. Jade sleeps with him and the cot sized mattress is just too small for the two of them. The discussion went on to how to re-arrange his room to accommodate the larger bed. Like most houses build in the early 60s, the bedrooms are on the small side and furniture arrangement must be thought out to make the most of the space available.

I thought he was actually WITH me. We drew a little picture of his floor plan and showed how we both thought the room would be sit up the best. Riley likes to be able to see out the window first thing when he opens his eyes. That’s important to him. And he has to have a desk for his computer and writing.

As I was drawing little pieces of furniture on the paper, he said that it would all be a moot point if I didn’t get his car registered so he could have transportation. I kinda shook my head and asked what transportation had to do with his room arrangement. I wasn’t even really paying that much attention to him. When the words came out of my mouth, I knew I had lit a fire that would not easily be extinguished.

If the car is not registered by January 18^th, he will stop all his direct deposits, collect his checks and move out. Of course, that started the round of me trying to make him see logic. Even us caretakers who know the ropes have a tendency to hold onto a shred of hope that somehow we can reach that part of the brain that houses logic and reason. I should have just said OK and let it go. But… NooOOooo… I didn’t shut up so the argument continued for more than an hour.

This is not the first time this month that Riley has threatened me with not financially participating in our household expenses. It’s been happening more and more often. Because of that, I think now may be the time to seek a court ordered competency determination. I wasn’t sure how to do it, but I knew what I wanted the end result to be.

1) Not let him have control of his money so that I could continue to keep him in this house where he would be safe, warm, comfortable and supervised.

2) The next thing was to keep him from having the car registered, thereby keeping him off the streets.

I did some research and I found that having someone declared incompetent in the state of North Carolina is really not as hard as I had thought.

First, I have to draft the petition for incompetency. Second, state the reasons why I think Riley is incompetent and why I’m seeking guardianship. Third, file the petition in the county courthouse. At that time a hearing will be scheduled within 30 days of service of the petition to Riley. He will have a right to obtain an attorney and/or request a jury trial. Fourth, present evidence and call witnesses supporting my allegations that Riley is incapable of taking care of himself or his business. Fifth, the judge or jury will determine whether or not Riley is competent.

This morning when Riley was arguing his point of view about driving, I made a video of the conversation. I have also taken pictures of the status of his bathroom and the results of his fall onto the fireplace. My housekeeper is willing to be a witness. I’ll spend the next 30 days preparing my evidence and gathering witnesses. It won’t be a very hard task. Riley makes it easy for me.

I'm also armed with my Workbook which shows each detox and rehab center and clearly indicates his physical condition. It will put everything in an order than can easily be understood.

It is unfortunate that it has come to this. But, maybe this will actually be the wake-up call that he needs. He is always saying that I’m the only one who feels that he can’t take care of himself. The fact that he has been told that by a couple of doctors and his brother, just doesn’t seem to be something he can accept. He truly believes he can live in drunken chaos and still be competent to take care of himself.

For some reason, I really think he’s fighting a battle that he cannot win. Sad – because he could win if he weren’t so intent on killing himself.

Alcohol releases endorphins...

2012-01-14T09:12:00.001-05:00

ABC’s News 10 out of Sacramento, recently broadcast a piece about a research study being conducted as the University of California at San Francisco. This study shows that when a person takes a drink endorphins are released in the brain that make the drinker “feel good.” I can understand that and I’m not sure why this is a “new” thing. Haven’t we known all along that people drink to feel good – get high – have a buzz – party hardy??? So, for me, it is not a far leap to discover that there are endorphins released that make drinkers feel good when drinking.

You will find the link here:

http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.news10.net%2Fnews%2Fcomments.aspx%3Fstoryid%3D172878%26fb_comment_id%3Dfbc_10150497276304892_22202395_10150499551369892&h=aAQHQhcH0AQHM2oMNH1kr-O6Oz7Jm-pMJzU9YJVos_v84vw

It seems that the researchers think this may be a step to aid in the reduction of alcoholism. That makes sense to me also. If drinking doesn’t produce those coveted feelings of goodness, then why drink at all? I think they may be on to something here – but only to a certain degree.

For the beginning drinker, if there were not so much pleasure in those first few drinks, then they may not succumb to binge drinking. I’m thinking of teen-agers and college students. If there was a vaccine that prevented them from deriving pleasure from drinking, would parents make sure they were given that injection before heading out to social events? Or even enrolling in college? I know I would have had my kids at the head of the line. Of course, if the vaccine destroyed ALL pleasure then it would not be acceptable.

But, for the seasoned drinker who is over the age of consent and has already been drinking for many years, I doubt they would consent to such a vaccine especially if they were not alcoholics. What would be the point? If they were responsible drinkers who did not drink and drive, then there would be no need to limit the pleasure gained from drinking.

For the alcoholic who has spent a good amount of time in rehab centers and making viable attempts at sobriety, this may be a good tool for them. There would have to be a real dedication and strive to remain sober after detox. But the alcohol addiction is so strong, I don’t know how long the alcoholic would continue on the drug regimen.

We already have drugs such as Naltrexone which blocks receptors which allow alcoholics to get those intoxicated feelings. This in turn results in fewer cravings. We also have Campral which, as I understand it, restores the chemical imbalance in the brain which reduces the cravings and prevents relapses. Of course, there is Antabuse which creates unpleasant side-affects as a result of alcohol consumption. We have all these tools available to us, yet alcoholism is still running rampant through our streets – yelling along that way that it is here to stay.

I hope that the researchers continue along the same lines that they are currently pursuing. With every study, there is more knowledge and – as I have stated many times – knowledge is the key to survival. Someday we may benefit from all the research and study that we will find a way to enjoy alcohol without becoming addicted to it.

I know many people can drink without adverse consequences. They can enjoy that scotch on the rocks or a fine bottle of wine. But, they don’t become addicted to the feeling of intoxication. Maybe those are the people whose brains we should really be researching, as well as all the other areas of their lives, social, economic, childhood, genetics. If we find out why people DON’T become alcoholics, maybe we can find out how to prevent people from becoming alcoholics.

Fantasyland has never been my place of residence. I doubt that any of the things I’ve suggested will ever be examined in my lifetime – definitely not what is left of Riley’s lifetime. However, in Fantasyland – and only in Fantasyland -- we might be able to vaccinate our children at an early age for illnesses such as alcoholism, or maybe even other addictions, at the same time we vaccinate against measles and mumps. Wouldn’t that be a wonderful thing!!

So to the researchers at UCSF – please keep up the good work!

Limited time price reduction...

2012-01-12T13:08:00.000-05:00

The Workbook for Caretakers of End-Stage Alcoholics

many of my followers have asked for a discount -- here it is!

Limited time price reduction

$9.99

Get your copy now!

Learn How To:

Communicate with medical professionals
How to interpret lab reports
Determine the health status of your alcoholic
Calculate estimated life expectancy
Execute a power of attorney
Maintain household sanitation

Proceeds of this sale will be used to
Help me get to the meeting of the
National Advisory Council on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism
near Washington DC

The price will go back up to $14.99 on Feb. 1st.

He's the sick one -- not me...

2012-01-12T07:15:00.000-05:00

I believe that anyone who is in an emotional arm’s distance from any alcoholic/addict needs to find recovery just as much as the one who has the focus of our attention. That’s just it right there – the one who has the focus of our attention. What about turning some of that attention on you -- the caretaker?

As we get drawn into this world of “keeping things going” we often lose sight of our own needs and happiness. We must put ourselves at a lower priority level because we have no idea what is going to happen next in our homes as a result of the alcoholic’s brain damaged stupidity. We are always on alert. We must pay attention to them – the alcoholic, kids, parents, siblings, neighbors, friends, co-workers – we must be aware of what they are doing, thinking, seeing. I’m tired just thinking about it all.

Detachment is the best way to survive life in an alcoholic home. It sounds like a dirty word, but all it really means is to take care of your own self. As long as you are constantly worrying about what the alcoholic is doing to everyone else and to himself, you might forget to so things that make you happy.

And – what DOES make you happy?? Do you even know what makes you happy? Have you forgotten what makes you smile? I preach all the time (to anyone who will listen) to find your passion. Find that one thing that you love doing and then do it.

I know what you are thinking “I love to do “X”, but I just don’t have the time or the money.” If it is truly your passion you will find a way to be involved somehow. Love to read – volunteer at the local library. Love animals – volunteer at the animal shelter. Love to cook – volunteer at your local soup kitchen. There are lots of ways to do things you love that won’t cost you anything and just might help someone else in the process.

If you have the funds available and you like doing things like, horseback riding, spa days, etc, then set aside one day, or at least a half day, where you can do what you want without interruption from anyone who makes your life difficult. If you need someone to baby-sit, find one and pay them well to show how much you appreciate that person.

I recently interviewed Mary Gordon at the Betty Ford Center. She heads up the family program and they have a good one. This is a week long program which covers the medical aspects of alcoholism, learning how to deal with the stress of living with an alcoholic, finding yourself in the chaos, learning to accept and let go by grieving your loss and moving on, and, creating a plan. Basically, the center covers just about everything I would want to know if I were a participant.

Mary Gordon was articulate, informative, genuine, and patient, as I have a tendency to ramble and get off track. She said she would send me information and she did just that almost immediately. All of these things indicate to me that she represents an organization that is worthy of my time – and yours.

Betty Ford Center is in Southern California; however, there are locations that are affiliated with the center in locations through the

United States

. I’m not sure about other countries. The program of these other locations is the same, but the time frame may be different. For example, the program length in Southern California is 5 days – Monday through Friday – while in other locations it may be Thursday through Tuesday. No matter what the days, they will certainly be worthwhile.

You can watch a YouTube presentation with Mary Gordon at this web address:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EavC2UvHEos

To visit their website – go here -- www.bettyfordcenter.org

Someone once told me I was just as sick as Riley. This person didn’t mean to be derogatory, but rather they wanted to point out that my mental and physical health had deteriorated since I began taking care of him. That person was right. Since I started this journey I have had or now have, a heart attack, stroke, flu (twice), salmonella (twice), insomnia, weight gain, diabetes, and general feelings of malaise. Yes, I agree, I am not as healthy as I wish I were.

I should have gone to a place like Betty Ford when I first decided to take him back in. But I didn’t because I had been privileged enough to be a part of a military sponsored family program back in the 80’s. It was intense and extremely educational. Fortunately, I had retained much of what I had previously learned. But, still it took me a while to get on even footing.

What has saved me from insanity is writing this blog. Writing has always been a passion that I’ve had since childhood. Writing this blog has re-kindled my need to write because I just can’t NOT write. It is my passion. It has always been there, but work and the general business of living put in a box in my brain and ended up getting buried in the maze. Thanks to taking on this task with Riley, I’ve once again found the box and after opening it, the contents are flowing out like lava from a volcano.

Of course, it took me about a year to get to taking the cover off that box. If I had gone to the Betty Ford Center, maybe I would have opened the box long ago. I know that the health issues I have are easier to manage when I have an outlet for my frustration. There are things I can’t “un-do” like the heart attack and stroke, but I now do more to prevent them from reoccurring. When I feel the stress from Riley’s ridiculous-ness, I write it all down – I don’t always publish it – but I get it out and find some perspective.

You don’t have to be a writer – but do something that helps you relax and get back to being the person you know you really are. In the words of Bobby McFerrin – Don’t Worry Be Happy.

More simplification...

2012-01-11T10:21:00.001-05:00

I’m not an expert… but I stayed at a Holiday Inn Express once. But I doubt that it makes me an authority on anything other than room service. Certainly, I am not a medical professional. I have done some research and what I have come up with, I’m willing to share with you.

A few days ago I wrote about the liver. Today I’ll try to simplify the workings of the pancreas and kidneys. These are both vital organs and, it would seem to me, we should do everything in our power to keep them healthy and happy.

The pancreas has two functions, one is to supply enzymes that aid in digestion and the other is to regulate our blood sugar. It is located behind the stomach and is surrounded by the portal vein which is one way blood is supplied to the organ.

Enzymes important to digestion are produced in the pancreas and are released when food enters the stomach through the pancreatic duct. These enzymes juices are known as bile.

ALCOHOLIC PANCREATITIS

With excessive use of alcohol the bile ducts become block due to inflammation and other factors. The inflammation is similar to swelling around the opening which decreases the flow of bile. Just as in the liver, scarring in this duct can also block the flow. That, in turn, causes a build of up bile inside the liver creating high levels of bilirubin in the blood.

The unfortunate trait of the pancreas is that it is digestible by our bodies and the build up of bile causes the pancreas to start being digested. From the way I understand, our pancreas eats itself because it can’t get out to eat anything else.

Medical attention and a hospital stay may be necessary where the alcoholic’s condition can be monitored. But the only real solution to the self-digestion is for the alcoholic to stop and not resume alcohol consumption.

KIDNEY FUNCTION

Let us assume that Mr. Jones is an alcoholic and has been diagnosed with Cirrhosis and/or Chronic (which means it happens over and over again) Pancreatitis. Because of his condition other parts, or organs, of his body are going to be affected. Alcohol is a toxin that is being induced and circulated in the blood stream. The liver is not removing the toxins because the ducts are closed and the blood cannot enter the organ. Also the pancreas is not breaking down the sugars or regulating his glucose because it’s busy feasting on itself. So – the toxins are taking a journey through his body’s internal super-highways.

One stop on this highway is the kidneys. Within less than a half-hour of consumption, alcohol produces the need to urinate. The more alcohol consumed the more trips Mr. Jones takes to the men’s room. All this bathroom activity is diluting the amount of fluid in the body. Mr. Jones can actually become dehydrated from all the booze he is drinking. It seems like a contradiction that he is drinking fluid and yet doesn’t have enough in his body.

Since Mr. Jones has been diagnosed with Cirrhosis, he has a tendency to retain salt. This causes a progressive accumulation of fluid which ends up in the abdominal cavity. In a quick glance at Mr. Jones, one would think he might be pregnant. The truth is his abdomen has so much fluid that he appears to be pregnant or have a “beer belly”. This accumulation is called “ascites.” This accumulation can continue to other parts of the body such as legs and arms.

All of this fluid in the empty spaces of Mr. Jones body may create many other complications, such as pressure on the heart. A heart attack may be the end result.

So now, Mr. Jones has blood that is heavy on toxins and his body is undue stress from the fluid build up. In my opinion, it’s time for Mr. Jones to take a cold hard look at what his alcoholism has done to his physical well-being and admit himself to a detox and rehab center.