I never thought anything could be worse that looking after
Riley while he seemed to be drinking himself into oblivion. The constant
cleaning up after him was tiring and never-ending. Trying to talk him into
eating a meal or taking a shower seemed to be futile. But now I’m beginning to
think those difficulties were just a minor inconvenience. With Riley no longer
drinking it would seem that my problems have left the building. I was wrong in
thinking that leaving the drunk building would be better than entering the
sobriety building.
Sobriety is a good thing even if Riley doesn’t agree. It has
been more than a year and he still prefers death to sobriety. The word by
itself conjures up ideas of rational conversations and being able to go out and
enjoy a social life with him. It makes me feel as though I don’t have to goad
him into showering or washing his hands after visiting the bathroom. Oh!!! Blessed
be sobriety!!
Today, I can tell you that this sobriety is no walk in the
park. All of the long term, near fatal detoxes and rehabs and bouncing back to
the bottle which led to strokes and heart attacks, have left Riley with progressive
dementia. So you may be saying “Well, that’s better than drunk.” In some cases
I guess it might be, but in Riley’s case, not so much.
A day as Riley’s caretaker means getting up at 5:30 a.m. and
chatting with him over coffee. His conversations are often disjointed and
follow no line of logic. He doesn’t seem to have opinions of his own anymore
because most of what he says is just repeating of what he has heard on the news
which he watches just before we have coffee. Sometimes he doesn’t know what day
it really is and most of the time he has no recollection of anything more
recent than 20 years prior. When he does remember, the memories may be of a
certain place with certain people, but they may be the wrong people associated
with the wrong place. He will insist that he absolutely knows what he is
talking about and often times tries to drag me into an argument over facts and
times.
In Riley World, everything must be done in a certain order
and time. He is mentally bound to his routine and any change to the routine
causes him distress. The fall-out from that is that I’m also bound to his
routine. I’m not a routine kinda gal – I get things done in my own time and
way. The contradiction is difficult for Riley and trying to stick to his
routine makes me miserable. I live in a state of constant re-adjustment and accommodation
to the now sober Riley.
I recently had a doctor tell me that Riley is like a 12-year-old
boy in a man’s body. I’m no longer a counterpart in his life, but instead I’m
the mother of a disobedient pre-teen boy who believes he can still do all the
things he did as an adult. He sees nothing wrong with eating a whole box of
Oreos in one day and talking about the body parts of female newscasters. Still
he will not shower and manages to get his hands covered in his own excrement. I find hand prints on the bathroom walls and
wiped onto hand towels. If I specifically remind him to wash his hands, he will
do it but only with grumbling about how mean I am.
I’ve had so many people tell me how wonderful it is that
Riley is not drinking. Their praise is genuine, but their understanding of the
why and how is way off. I just smile and nod as though I know a secret that I’m
sure they would not comprehend. No point in trying to make a point. The truth is that the drunken Riley is very
much the same as the sober Riley. He just isn’t drunk.
Riley does not express his anger. He is passive-aggressive and
still is able to act on that whenever he sees fit. And – he sees fit a lot.
Although, now it feels that he doesn’t even know he is doing it. He is not
calculating and doesn’t make a plan to get back at me. Now, it just seems to
come with the territory of living with a dementia patient. My anger is far more
vocal and immediate, but I’ve learned that I must keep that anger in check
because nothing I say will be remembered the next day. I can explain to him
why, where, how, etc., but the same explanation will be required the very next
day or hour.
I think what makes me the angriest is that if Riley had
stopped drinking way back when – this would not be an issue now. Everything
that is wrong with his health has been a direct result of alcoholism. I always
dreamed that one day he would get a firm hold on sobriety and we could go back
to being happily separated. That will never happen now. Riley has become a
pre-teen boy who is fighting battles that would be normal if I were his mother
rather than his wife. Who am I kidding – none of this is normal by any stretch
of the imagination. Sometimes I wonder if he isn’t really Benjamin Button.
The anger I feel towards myself is something I work to
control every day. I’ve been asked “When will it be over?” by readers who are
dealing with a seemingly immortal alcoholic. What I want to say to them is
probably not acceptable to society and would come across as me being a selfish,
cold bitch. I would tell them that it will go on as long as the non-alcoholic
makes that 911 call just in the nick of time; rations the alcohol; makes sure
the alcoholic gets food; and, generally takes care of things. Those things keep
the alcoholic alive and if your alcoholic is truly end-stage, it is the only
thing keeping them alive.
Personally, I’m angry with myself for doing what I feel was
the “right” thing. I believe most people would have done exactly what I have
done. I could not find it in myself to let Riley die in the bedroom across the
hall from me while he cried out for me to please get him help. I believe there is an inherent part of us as
human beings that makes us uncomfortable to just allow another person to die
and not get assistance.
That’s why hospice is so valuable – the hospice workers
relieve us of the responsibility. If Riley had his heart attack just a few
hours sooner – the decision to call 911 would have been out of my hands because
I would have called hospice instead. Riley would probably not be alive today. At
4 p.m. his hospice services were terminated because of a half-point reading on
his lab results. At 9 p.m. he had a heart attack that lead to where we are now.
My decision to retire from all things “alcoholism” was a
good decision. I find that most of my time is now spent in dealing with the aftermath
of alcoholism. I’ve turned the OARS support groups over to very capable
managers who are doing an awesome job. I’m thankful for them. The group is growing
and providing much help and strength to many who have a loved one in the middle
of alcohol insanity. You may join the group by using the invitation link
provided here:
I’m still here –
lurking – reading your comments and being proud that you are all supporting
each other through my blog. However, I am concerned about those who have posted
links to that are not relative to the real subject matter. I will go back to
moderating the comments and try to weed out the ones who seem to abuse the
commenting privilege.
I have another post on the burner – something a little more
of a humorous nature. Watch for it. I think you will enjoy it.
