What will it take?

Whenever I look outward critically at others with addiction I have to take a breath and remember to turn that glance inward. One man who doesn’t pay his child support said to me, “I will never call myself an alcoholic.” He was very emphatic about it.

I wondered why, why fight it? I also wondered if he had a mirror. Then I thought, he just doesn’t care. If he ever called himself an alcoholic he might be accountable for something, he might end up facing some kind of reality he just doesn’t have the strength and courage to face. Things like, this could kill you or you’ve lost friends this way literally to death or your drinking damages relationships or your addiction is holding you back from being the incredible person you are.

Maybe it’s easier to think these things about other people because if I turn that around and call myself an incredible person it feels pretty damn strange. Is it egotistical? Would it make me narcissistic? has no one ever called me ‘incredible’ before?

the thinking me says, no it does not make you egotistical or narcissistic and yes people have called you incredible and said nice things about you. but you don’t take complements well, do you?

no, i don’t. but i have trained myself in the last 20 years to just say thank you and be done with it.

how about internalizing some of that? internalize the complements?

i know my strengths. i feel like i have an accurate picture of myself.

do you? *yawn* I don’t think I completely agree.

So it has been almost one year since our friend died from a drinking related accident. he fell and smashed his head in. his ex let him drive. she called me later and asked me to check on him. his head was so blown up he couldn’t even fit his hat over it. he talked to me as if it were 2011, 9 years in the past.

how could she let him drive? i wondered very angrily to myself. maybe she was drunk — which would not be out of the question for 10 in the morning.

i needed to assess what was happening. talk to him, I thought. i got him some ice and asked him to maybe sit or lie down. he sat. then he stood. then he sat. he laid down. then he stood.

i tried to walk and act casually like everything was fine. i gave him some ice and said, we need to go to the hospital.

okay, he said. it’s a date.

uh, okay. where’s your car?

we stepped out the front door and looked down at the parking lot as he pushed the button of his key fob. but there was nothing.

I held his arm tightly as we walked down the concrete stairs. he was wobbly and i was nervous since he outweighed me. he talked happily. he really tied one on last night he was trying to explain. small headache he said.

I looked at his bulbous head and my heart just broke.

once on the sidewalk he walked back and forth pushing the button when his neighbor came out.

the cops dropped him off. said he was trying to get into the wrong building. asked me if i knew him and carried his six packs up to the door.

oh, god. i thought. okay.

I called a lyft. he chattered away merrily talking about our date the whole way to the emergency room. i checked him in, but because of COVID I was not allowed to wait with him. i called another lyft and went to look for his car. i rode my bicycle up and down all around the apartment parking and around the neighborhood pushing the button of the fob. i called the police to try to find out where they picked him up. they wouldn’t tell me.

they’ll carry his beer up to his door and not notice his giant swollen head but they wont help me find his car?! whatever how that makes sense i don’t know, again i was wondering angrily.

then the ER called me asking me to return. he wouldn’t sit still and kept asking where his date was so they thought i could help keep him calm.

of course, i said.

and just then i heard it. the car was beeping!

i rushed over, threw my bike in the back and went back to the hospital. he was very antsy and forgetful. he persistently tried to pull the IV out of his arm. i talked to him and he flipped back and forth between happy and wondering why he was there.

this is all i can write about for now since work calls. i will say, at the time after he was admitted, i thought he would be safe. i thought he would be taken care of. i stuck by him by phone every day the whole time he was in for treatment. his numbers were down. his liver was failing. he needed barbs to keep him from going into a seizure since he wouldn’t be drinking in the hospital or rehab. i thought we’re on the road and he’ll be okay. and i could not have been more wrong.