At first I thought somehow a breaker had blown and I groused
at having to find the breaker box in an unfamiliar house by groping around blindly.
It was so very, very dark. Something didn’t seem right. If I had blown a
breaker, there would be some light from the street. I peeked out the door and
realized that the lights were out on, what seemed to be, all over our block.
There wasn’t even any light from the street lamps on the main road which is about
two blocks away.
Riley came from his room and was panicking. He had a candle
and we used that to find our two flashlights. He started barking orders to
unplug all the electrical appliances and not to open the refrigerator. He told
me this power outage would last indefinitely. There was fear in his voice. He
suggested some sort of government plot or terrorist activity.
I hadn’t prepared dinner before the lights went out and
Riley was asking me what we were going to eat and how were we going to cook it.
He was concerned that he might not have any coffee in the morning. I told him I
would fix him a salad, but if he were really that hungry, I’d fire up the
barbeque and grill him a steak. I made a large salad and served a plate to
Riley. That seemed to stop his pacing for a while.
He asked if my cell phone worked. I checked it and received
a message that it could only be used for emergency calls. Riley informed me
that this was a BIG emergency and I should be calling someone in authority. I
tried to calm him by telling him to listen and he would hear the sirens just a
couple of blocks away. There was no one to call.
Even though images of the new television series “Revolution”
kept playing in my head, I stayed calm. Eventually, Riley went to bed and fell
asleep. I, on the other hand, waited for the lights to shine again. It was
almost three hours later when the entire neighborhood lit up and life returned.
While sitting in the dark, I had a chance to reflect on the
previous weeks activities. Riley had appointments with a medical doctor and a
psychologist. We were gradually moving which involved cleaning, sorting and
manual labor. It had been a tough week and there was something comforting about
being in a cocoon of darkness.
Riley’s appointment with the MD went about the way I had
expected it to go. He seemed to be improving and things were going just ducky
until… Riley expressed that he wanted me to let him go and find a place on his
own. The conversation seemed to veer off in the direction of making the
appointment more about me than about Riley. While no one REALLY believes Riley
would fare well on his own, however, the question was once again brought up
about why I don’t just kick him out the door.
It becomes irritating because this question comes up often
during Riley’s appointments. Someone must have written that answer down
somewhere in his record. Repeating the question never changes the answer. Once again I give my definition of my personal
moral obligation to prevent him from harming himself or others – especially my
daughter. Everyone agrees the only reason he wants to be on his own is so he
can resume drinking. If/when he goes back to drinking he will quickly become blight
on society’s butt. It is morally repugnant to me to put him in a position of becoming
so unable to care for his personal well-being that he interjects his insanity
on my daughter as she tries to rush in and save him from himself.
I know what you are thinking… If my daughter wants to take
him in, it is her choice. It may be her choice, but it is my choice to prevent
her from living with Riley as he stops showering and wallows in his unsanitary
clothes. It is my choice to prevent her from having to deal with vomit, urine
and feces soaked bedding. It is my choice to not have her career ruined by
having to take time off to clean up his messes. I am his wife and I stayed his wife
knowing full well that someday I would have to be responsible for this grown
man who is really just a child. I have and will continue to live up to that responsibility.
I tire from having to repeat my reasoning over and over
again. When asked the questions, I always have to work diligently at keeping my
anger in check because I know they know the answers. It always feels like some
kind of Al-Anon intervention. My eyes are wide open. I know what is ahead for
Riley and for me. I don’t live in a fantasy land and don’t feel I need someone
to force me to see what I’m doing to ruin my own life. My life is NOT ruined if
I can make my daughter’s life better. OK. Maybe I’m just a stubborn old lady –
I’ll own that as well.
As distasteful as it was to see the medical doctor, it was almost
equally as pleasant to see the psychologist. We discussed how he could help
Riley right now in the current timeframe. Since Riley has not been drinking
since May he wanted to focus on that. He only wanted to discuss the very early
stages of his alcoholism and where he is right now. He answered my questions
with straight direct answers. He has objectives and I came away feeling that
they were reasonable. The Dr. knows that he can’t stop Riley from wanting to
drink, but maybe he can make this sober period more enjoyable for Riley. He
believes he might be able to help Riley accept his physical limitations and
learn to live more harmoniously with me as a result. Maybe, just maybe, Riley
will stop seeing me as the enemy.
Just before the lights returned, I had made a resolution
that I would give Riley more “things” to do. He can set up the coffee pot the
night before. He can fold the clean laundry. He can keep the bathroom tidy (I’ll
do the heavy cleaning). There are things I can do to make him feel more useful
and that might make him feel better about his life in general.
In the brightness of the incandescent lighting, I felt a
little dismayed. Reality seemed harsher in the brightness of the room. I set my
teacup in the sink and crawled into my bed. Even with the lights turned out,
the darkness was not the same. That’s OK because at least I know the ending isn’t
just like the television show. Riley’s paranoia was for nothing and for that I
am grateful.
