But I was, I guess it comes with experience, experience I wish I didn’t have.
I was right about the fact I would find sleep hard to find.
I was right about the fact the pattern repeated itself and he was admitted to hospital.
I was right about the fact that I knew I would walk into work smiling like I hadn’t a care in the world, showed compassion to a friend whose husband is in hospital, never mentioning my son had been in there also. Yes I had a good week-end, I was right about the lies that come so easily, so much easier than the truth.
And so another day starts, it starts with a puzzling message “I’m on the bus on my way home” Home? His home? My home?
Where has he been to be coming home at this time in the morning? And then the explanation, home from hospital, and to his home not mine. I feel relief, and disappointment.
Relief he is alive, relief he is not coming back to my home and bringing his wracked sweaty and shaking body into my clean world, and then disappointment because he has chosen his home, where he is free to continue his drinking, not my “alcohol free zone” home. He has made his choice.
I get on with my life, throw myself into work, it helps, stops me thinking, stops me worrying,
And then the messages start, “he’s so sorry, his actions have been inexcusable over the last few days”, but I’ve heard it all before and know he really is sorry. “He’s being ill again, no, he’s not had anything to drink, he can’t keep water down, well only 2 cans earlier” So I try to explain again, “it’s the alcohol making you ill, your body can’t tolerate it anymore” I think he takes it in a little this time, I ask if his “Buddy” his so-called support has called, she is supposed to contact him every day, it’s great when she does, takes the burden from me for a while, but no, nothing, she luckily has the choice. I’m at work I explain, I can’t talk now, I will call later.
After my day at work I call, offer the olive branch, if he wants he can come to my home, he knows he cant drink here, it’s a safe place to be if he wants to stop and start recovery. He declines, his choice, and again my relief and disappointment.
It’s been a quiet evening, he has asked if he can come home tomorrow when the sickness has stopped, he’s embarrassed by it. So a ray of hope, not for his sobriety, but that there will hopefully be a week of calm, maybe two if we are lucky. But at the moment it’s only a ray, I will see what the night brings. I feel calmer tonight, fingers crossed.