A Trickle of Rain

"There was nothing separate about her days. Like drops on the window-pane, they ran together and trickled away."
- Dorothy Parker

That sums it up. Dorothy Parker describes quite well what my life was like in the last year or more of my drinking career. Each night when I crawled into bed I promised myself that I would eat something when I awakened. At best, I would sleep fitfully for a few hours, and the cycle would begin again, just like the days stretching behind me like a red carpet to Hell.

When I woke up, it wasn't long before the shaking started. Then I would vomit. This happened every morning, and it would come on so suddenly that I started keeping the kitchen trash can right in front of my chair in the den. The vomitus was black as pitch; my body was expelling a bellyful of putrified blood that had collected in my stomach while I slept.

All thoughts of eating were wiped out of my mind. The only thing that would stop the violent tremors that wracked my body was another drink. It seemed like the only solution at that moment, even though I knew it was killing me. I couldn't see any way out.

I'm sad, and a little angry this evening. This morning, when I answered the local AA phone line, I got a call from a man who was reaching out for help. He was at the end of his rope. After twelve years of sobriety, he started drinking again last June. He thought he had his problem licked. Now, at the beginning of 2009, he cannot stop drinking.

Last night, he went out to his shed to look for a hose he could connect to the exhaust pipe of his car. Only the worry of what would become of his dog kept him from finishing the job. I told him that, although suicide was an option, it was also a permanent solution for a temporary problem. I told him I knew how it felt to feel hopeless, to dread the brightening sky at the end of each night and think "Oh, please, not another day. Not another day."

From the way he answered my questions, I knew he was in the danger zone. His pattern of long-term constant drinking meant that withdrawal from alcohol must be medically managed. Without treatment, alcohol withdrawal syndrome can be fatal. The mortality rate is 35% if untreated, and drops to 5-15% if treated early. Complicating his situation is the problem of his relapse after a period of sobriety. Alcohol withdrawal symptoms can increase in severity following each relapse. This phenomenon is called kindling, and frequently leads to full-blown delirium tremens, seizures, and heart failure or stroke.

After spending time with him, assuring him that he could get better, that help was available, and that he could start enjoying life again by getting help, I got busy calling people. I found a man who wanted to help. He took our fellow to the emergency room nearby. And that's where things went downhill.

Our helper spent hours in the emergency room with our man, waiting for a doctor. Meanwhile, our fellow starts craving another drink. His heart is racing and his blood pressure is very high. He is disoriented, and wants to go home. He is hooked to an IV, so at least he is getting some good fluids.

And finally the doctor comes in. He tells our guy that he is drinking too much, and needs to stop. And that he is wasting his time. And he sends him home.

And that is why I am sad, and more than a little mad this evening.