Covid Journal, Day 218: Pause, and the Elephant in the Room

50 and raining this morning, as it did most of the day yesterday. Cooler days and nights are forecast this week, with lots of showers, drizzle, etc. We are most surely turning toward November.

We have had to take a pause in our usual daily work. Larry took a fall in the chicken yard and has cracked three ribs. He stiff and sore all over, really, and has a few cuts and abrasions to go along with his other injuries. We spent most of yesterday at the VA hospital getting him checked out.

Which brings me to the elephant in the room: he fell because he'd been drinking. This has become a real trouble this past summer, as he seemed to want to drink every day. Alcohol affects his diabetes, making him get woozy and staggery very quickly. The problem, besides the drinking, is that he's sneaky about it, buying beer when we're out and hiding it somewhere in the van, or buying it when he goes out alone. Then he takes it to the garage or who knows where, and drinks without me knowing it. The next thing I know he's staggering around, and if I don't notice quickly enough, he's likely to fall. 

The falling is another problem, because it's very difficult for me to get him up. There's the danger of where he falls, too. Once by the stone hearth, which could have killed him. And this time in the chicken yard, where he must have laid for a while because I didn't know where he was. He'd gone out to feed the pigs at our neighbors, and was gone 3 hours--and it was dark. I had no idea where he'd got to until he finally came stumbling in. 

You can imagine the stress this causes me. And the stress on our marriage. Honestly, if I didn't love the man so much, I'd have been out the door and gone.  I didn't talk about it to others, because he got angry if I even suggested it, and promised over and over to quit. But I didn't believe him anymore, so the promises meant nothing to me, and apparently not to him either. 

Friday morning I called the VA and tried to talk to his doctor, but the nurse told me there was nothing I could do--he had to seek help himself. I was in tears when I heard that, because he didn't think he had a problem. But this last fall didn't just crack his ribs, it broke the camel's back. 

When we went to the VA hospital yesterday (where I was not allowed to go in with him because their last patient had tested positive for Covid, wasn't that great) I was again facing that wall of he-has-to-tell-them-but-he-won't. But they did let me inside to use the bathroom and as I came out, there was Larry with the doctor who was getting ready to take him back to the emergency room. So I shouted--yes, I shouted--"you'd better tell them the truth, or I will leave you here! Tell them you were drinking!" I'm not really proud of that, but I was at my wit's end. And yes, I would have left him there if he didn't tell the truth. Because I was literally at the end of my rope with him.

i waited in the van for over 3 hours. But it was worth it because he did tell them (Well, what choice did he have after that?). Now he has instructions for care of those poor ribs, and an appointment with his doctor. And a screening for alcoholism. 

So maybe in the end, all the drama and stress of the past weekend was worth it. He will get, I hope, the help he needs, and I feel like someone is at least listening, someone is sharing my burden.

I don't usually post such personal things on this blog, but this time I think it's important for several reasons. First because you all are my friends, and many of you have also shared some painful experiences in your life. And second, to encourage anyone else going through something similar to keep trying to find help. I should have started looking and speaking out years ago--this wasn't a new problem, it's been developing off and on for years. I guess I have a new learning curve ahead of me, too, as I learn the right tools to cope with this and to support Larry as he moves forward.

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