I’ve taken quite a break from the written form of processing my thougths and feelings. It was ok – it’s been a great year for so many different reasons. Also a hard one, of course. Writing continues to help me navigate my thoughts, so I decided to jump back in.
This morning at 6am I had a call from an unknown local number. History has taught me that these are usually SOS calls from my dad – so I answered. He needed a ride home from the hospital. I didn’t really ask any questions…there’s nothing to know. I told him I had to get the kids off to school and then I could pick him up from the ER entrance. When he got into the car, I asked ‘So…what brought you to the hospital?’. He replied ‘Oh, the same old, same old…. Addiction’. Those words hung in the air for a while. I don’t really know how to follow that up. I had a million questions but knew the answers to most all of them. We literally talked about the weather for most of the ride home. This is how our relationship goes these days….lots of superficial weather talk and some feeble attempts to keep my dad alive. I’d say ‘by the grace of God, he’s still alive’ but there is no grace in his existence. Watching a loved one living in anguish, pain and misery day after day is awful. Not being able to help or make a difference in their live is awful. Living in a state of anticipation every time my phone rings and it’s an unknown local number – awful. I’ve always held on to the shred of hope that sobriety is possible for my dad. He’s found it a few times in his adult life…even hung onto it for a bit, too. But that was a long time ago. It’s such a distant dream now that it feels silly to even entertain as a possibility.
Anger is a major player in my processing of addiction. I try to wrangle this emotion nearly every day. It’s easy to keep it at bay when I’m busy…but if I sit with my thoughts too long it rears its ugly head. What I managed to get out of my dad this time around was that he forgot to eat while he was binging. He reminded me that ‘drinking that much on an empty stomach does some awful things to you’ and said he got scared and called 911 on his own accord. I don’t know the details behind what it did to him this time, but awful memories of previous times ‘awful things happened’ during binges danced through my head. These scenes have seared moments in my mind that I’ll have to keep forever. Each of those memories were traumatic. It’s weird, casually talking about this with him without actually talking about it with him.
He told me that the hospital seemed annoyed he was there. They didn’t give him an IV and he’d go hours without anyone checking on him. He asked several times for food, which eventually he got. They never did bloodwork or a physical evaluation of him. They kept him in a bed in a room for about a dozen hours and then moved him to a chair in the waiting room for me to come get him. My dad is recently 70 years old. He has a broken back and neck from a previous drunken fall that he never sought medical attention for. He struggles to walk. He is covered in cuts and brusies, always. He smells bad, because he can’t shower himself very well anymore. He’s constantly groaning in pain….and they left him in a room without an IV, food or a doctor checking on him for hours. And we will pay hundreds – if not thousands – of dollars for this ‘care’. The anger is so big today.
On the other hand…my dad is a Frequent Flyer at all the local ER’s. He has a long rap sheet. I’ve picked him up twice in the last month from a hospital. You don’t get special treatment for this type of status…in fact, it’s quite the opposite. There are so many caregivers who are drained and exhausted and when that drunk guy shows up again, I can imagine what they must feel. He’s not someone’s father that is hurting and suffering from a disease that they did not choose. He’s not someone that is craving human interaction and navingating self-loathing, fear and depression. He’s not a sick person in need of medical care. He’s just a drunk.
I miss my Dad. I miss the person I never had, but imagined. I miss the grandpa my girls have never known. Slowing down a bit today and feeling my anger.
Loving an Addict 