Humpty Dumpty

I was overdue for A Call about my father.  God bless my little sister who takes what I would call the brunt of the shit that surrounds my dad's drinking if it weren't for the fact that she takes all of the shit that surrounds my dad's drinking.  Part of this is because she was always closer to him than I was but mostly the deal is that I don't put up with too much shit when it comes to someone else's drinking.  It's harder when it's a loved one who's the train wreck but it's not as hard as you'd think once you practice the detachment thing for a while.  I've been practicing for a while.  The technique is simple: we'll give you all the help you want; we won't tell you what to do; don't expect us to snap to attention if you veer into the weeds.  

I know this sounds clinical, detached, a tad uncaring.  I've been consistent in my behavior the last several years - I support the right of an adult to live his or her life as he or she sees fit, assuming bank robbery or sexual deviancy isn't involved, but I don't feel an obligation to clean up messes caused by people who aren't behaving very well.  My dad knows this about me - I've been very clear about this.  You want to drink?  Fine with me.  You fall down and end up in the emergency room?  Deal with it.

That's what happened, obviously.  The ER people explained the extent of his injuries - fortunately not much more than aches and pains - and tentatively said that they weren't going to release him that day because of an elevated blood alcohol level.  He may have been walking right up to the edge of an attack of the DTs which kills people regularly.  I got the sense they were expecting an objection from me or an expression of disbelief.

"The guy drinks like a fish and he doesn't eat," I said.  "This happens all the time."

Frankly, I'm glad he's in a hospital bed.  At least he's safe there.  I totally trust that the social workers at the hospital and his retirement home will do what's best for him.  No one wants him to go back to his apartment which, now that's sobered up, is exactly where he wants to go.  I get that, too - there's a lot more alcohol there than there is in his hospital room.  He was clearly pissed about having to spend a few days in the hospital.  Ah, no shit?   Ah, you can tell this to someone else, dad, because I'm not helping you get out.

I wonder how much money his health care system has shelled out for all of this stuff.  I'd say a few hundred thousand dollars over the last five years.  That may be a conservative estimate.

What a mess we can make of our lives when we're drinking.