Thursday morning I awake to my phone ringing. My mom is on the other line explaining she is in the emergency room with my dad. Soon after, I go to webmd.com to use the symptom search. As I was scrolling through the list, realization and worry simultaneously struck. In the ER, the doctor explains to use that his blood work has them concerned about his liver. Basically, skipping all the medical jargon and details, his liver is on the verge of being inadequate and, in all likelihood, the main reason is his alcohol abuse. This led to a pretty epic breakdown; I rummaged through the entirety of our house searching for every ounce of alcohol so I could stand bawling in the back yard while I dumped it. Pretttty intense.
As of now, it's more of a comfort having him in the hospital than being home. There, he says he's going to stop drinking. But there, he isn't necessarily tempted. It's easy to say that hooked to an IV moments after hearing half of his liver isn't functioning. I'm worried his mind will change on his way home from work as he skips out on the routine trip to the bar. This, essentially, is do or die. I'm just worried he won't seek the help he needs because I know he can't do this alone. This I know; this I've witnessed. At this point I feel I need to play the role of parent and actively force him to seek help. He won't otherwise, not that I'm even sure my intervention will really matter.
I had a strange epiphany today, as well. One of the reasons they are holding him in the hospital still is to check for withdrawal symptoms. As we were leaving the hospital today my mom was explaining that to me and asked if I thought he seemed more irritable than normal. I couldn't answer that question; I don't know his normal. I've spent the entirety of my life attempting to distinguish "normal" from sober. I'm not sure that I can. I've always made the assumption that he was sober when I saw him in the morning and ... that's all. It's a shame that I can't make an accurate analysis of my dad's character. It's a reasonable assumption that spending a lifetime with somebody would allow that.
I hope this is the kick in the ass he needed.
I hope this week isn't hell.
I hope things start looking up again soon.
PS: I don't feel like proof-reading this. If there are grammatical errors, I'm sorry.
Maybe you already know these things, but I feel as though you'd like to hear them from someone else. There are three things you're gong to do. One is to hope. Hope is all we have most days, and you have to have a lot of it. Never let go of hope, never say you've given up. The second is is scream. Emerson said a scream is better than a thesis. Not literally, perhaps. But vocalizing all of this to your father is important. The third is to realize that people are utterly, horrifyingly disappointing a lot of the time. But we all usually come out in a pinch, and sometimes, many times, we do the most amazing things when there is pressure. Your dad can transform his life. He will go get help. He is very lucky to have a daughter like you who will stop at nothing to make sure that happens.
ReplyDeleteIf you need anything, my phone's on, my door's open.