Oh, and what a fun summer it has been. I can't believe it's been almost a month since I last posted. Time flies...
An update? Well, my mom was released from rehab. She managed to loose her wallet and ID a few days before she left. Actually, she lost it two weeks before that, but didn't think it was important to tell anyone that.
My sister went to pick her up at rehab (and man, were they happy to see her go) and she has been staying at my sister's apartment. My mom promptly relapsed the first day she was left alone.
She asked my sister's boyfriend for money. He did not know what to do, so he called my sister. My sister felt guilty that my mom was begging him for money, so she told him to give it to her because my mom PROMISED my sister she would not use it for alcohol.
But she did. She went to a bar and bought two shots and a beer. My brother called her after she left the bar and knew right away she had been drinking (amazing how you can just know right away...I know it's the same for me. I can tell when my mom has had ONE SIP of alcohol). He called my sister with his suspicions. She raced home. My mom, of course, lied and said she did not drink. Swore on her life.
So, my sister went to the bar and showed them my mom's picture and they confirmed that she had been drinking. My sister was totally devastated and felt duped. And since then, my sister has been saying she needs my mom to leave immediately.
Originally, the plan was to have my mom visit while we looked for nursing home facilities in NY for my mom. But then we found out insurance does not cover any of those costs, and it is unrealistic for my mom to be paying $50,000/year ... when she has never had a job.
So, now the plan is to have my mom come here to Colorado. She arrives Saturday. To put it mildly, I am feeling a little anxious about this.
I'm feeling really hopeless today. I'm saying today, but I've been feeling really down for a while. I feel like my mom's situation has taken over my entire life and it's not getting any better.
Here's an update about what has been going on with her: I've been getting calls (and I say "I" not "we" since my brother and sister have been MIA...especially my sister) from the rehab about my mom's hygiene (from the previous posts) and just about how she has not made any progress. Everyone is frustrated with her at rehab because she openly admits that she is going to drink the moment she gets out, even though she has cirrhosis and it is going to kill her...quickly.
My mom's good friend (who is a Dr.) wanted to know how much of this "unwillingness" (to shower, to understand that drinking will kill her, etc.) is from mental illness (bipolar disorder) versus brain damage from drinking. I'm going to copy and paste some email exchanges:
FROM MY AUNT...
On Mon, Jul 25, 2011 at 9:40 AM:
In particular you need the result of any imaging of the brain (CT scan, MRI) and any update on your mom's psychiatric diagnoses now that she has been on medications for some weeks/months including prognoses and recommended therapy (not just meds but post-discharge support recommendations). I would be very interested to know about the degree of brain atrophy present and its pattern. As we discussed on the phone, there are some distinguishing features between the atrophy of senility or natural aging and that of chronic alcohol abuse (called Wenicke-Korsakoff which you can read about here). The atrophic changes are irreversible and, particularly if they are of the classic alcohol related type, would be helpful in attempting to predict her future function capacity. While this may in fact be bad news it would at least let us try to play the ball where it lies rather than wonder.
MY RESPONSE AFTER SPEAKING WITH THE NURSE AT REHAB:
Date: Wed, 27 Jul 2011 12:01PM:
So I just spoke with the psychiatric nurse and she said that Mom refused the spec scan, so they don't have anything to go by with that. But she did say that she spoke with the Dr and other nurses about mom (they all remember her) and she said that they all strongly believe that mom has irreparable damage to her brain and that she will never be able to understand that she can't drink or anything like that. They said she doesn't think mom will get any better than this. It's been almost 90 days of not drinking and if she was going to improve, she would have.
I asked her if she thought any of this could be bipolar related and she said that she couldn't say for sure, but she thinks it's damage from alcohol. She believes mom will never be able to live independently again.
She said mom could always go see a specialist for a brain scan once she's out of gate lodge, but she thinks mom will begin drinking immediately and things will start to deteriorate before we could even get an appointment.
Not sure what the next step is.
MY AUNT'S RESPONSE TODAY...
Date: Wed, 27 Jul 2011 1:00PM:
I'm afraid this is pretty much what I was thinking but I wanted to hear what her caregivers thought and hoped there would be an imaging study to confirm. For someone with radiology training like me I always want the clinical picture and imaging picture to support each other. Your description of your mom's conversation and behavior suggests a concreteness that is typical of chronic alcoholic encephalopathy or brain damage as we discussed before. This is irreversible. Honestly, I think chronic institutionalization is the only way to keep her alive. While not a pleasant environment from a normal person's point of view she has demonstrated the ability to establish a routine in such a setting at ECMC and these other places despite her complaints. This would cost money for a private setting and would certainly suck dry her remaining assets then end up with her as a ward of the state if she outlives her assets. Or you could consider legal advice as to how to distribute her assets to you kids and go right to ward of the state type status. Or you could follow her brother's thought as to finding her a small rental apartment where she can't get herself or anyone else in too much trouble and let her just finish out the process with her drinking. It is not likely to take a great deal of time if she is left alone. This both sounds and feels harsh to me but I do not see any "good" option here. She has done too much damage. I think the effort was worthwhile because none of us was ready to see her die in May which was about to happen. Also we all now know that we have done what could be done to try to save her.
So, now I'm here. I feel so depressed about all of this. I don't want to institutionalize her (and don't know if I could even if I wanted to). It feels unacceptable to me to let my mom go back home, get an apartment, and then drink herself to death. Soon. I can't imagine not calling my mom, not seeing her, not sharing things with her, not having her in my life. I do not feel ready to let her go. I'm 25 and my mom is 55. She is too young to die.
I talked to my boyfriend and he doesn't really want her to come live with us. I'm sure not that's really a viable option anyway since her health insurance is only good in New York State and I live in Colorado. She might never be insured again if she moved out of New York.
Do I move to New York? Leave my life here? My boyfriend, home, cat, support, job?? I feel hopeless. I have no idea what to do and I have 2 weeks and one day before my mom gets out of rehab. I need to figure out it and I have no idea what to do.
The hardest thing about family program was hearing everyone say that my mom was hopeless. She was not committed to the program and had no intention of trying to stop drinking. She also was sneaking (typical alcoholic behavior) food into her room...not to eat, just to hoard. Also, she still looks awful. She has gained about 10 pounds, but she still looks emaciated and not like my mom.
The one successful thing about family weekend at Hanley was the meeting I had with my mom and her counselor. My mom VERY begrudgingly agreed to go to 28 more days of inpatient at a cheaper/less intense chapter of Hanley, called Gate Lodge (read about it here).
My mom was SO angry because we threatened to Marchman Act her for 60 days or she could voluntarily agree to go to Gate Lodge for 28 days. She wouldn't talked to me for the last few hours I was there to visit. She played cards with me, but wouldn't speak with me.
So, now she's at Gate Lodge and still not doing well.
I'm back home after family weekend at Hanley (which you can read about here).
The family program was actually very difficult for me. I arrived on Thursday night at the hotel that Hanley pays for one family member to stay in and it was very nice. The next morning, Hanley arranged for the family members attending the program to be picked up at 7:30 am. Originally, my brother and sister were both going to attend with me, but they bailed at the last minute.
The idea of family program is to teach the family members how addiction is a family disease. It's like dominoes: the substance (alcohol, in my mom's case) knocks the addict down and then the addict knocks everyone else around them down.
Other helpful things we learned about addiction:
-addiction is about compulsivity (always worrying about the next drink)
-the first 12-18 months after quitting are the hardest
-alcoholism is a holistic disease (physical, emotional, mental, social, spiritual) & therefore so must the solution to the disease be
Anyway, I'll update more about what I learned later. But for now, I wanted to just say how hard the weekend was for me. I was SO immensely worried about my mom (rehab was not working for her...she had no intention of trying to stop drinking) that I could not handle the conversations about addiction and recovery. I sobbed through the entire weekend. I'm so glad that I won't see any of those people who attended family weekend again because I really embarrassed myself. I was way too emotional. It wasn't a tear or two, it was the kind of crying where you can't speak and you get all red and blotchy.
I still haven't processed why exactly it was so hard for me. Was it because I'd never openly talked about my mom's addiction? Or what it was like for me? Was the it group/crowd aspect? Was I just nervous?
75-80% of helping professionals in the U.S. under the age of 55 are adult children of alcoholics and 60% of physicians (who are U.S.-born) under the age of 55 are first-born children of alcoholics.
83% of nurses are adult children of alcoholics.
This is a staggeringly high number! Helps explain the stats that follow...
The American Nurses Association states that 20% of nurses have 'substance abuse issues' with an an estimated 40,000 nurses in the U.S. experiencing alcoholism. Binge drinking was highest among oncology, emergency, and critical care nurses.
Odds of marijuana use are 3.5 times higher among emergency nurses. Pediatric and emergency nurses reported a higher use of cocaine than other specialties. Oncology nurses reported the highest overall drug use – for all substances combined.
Looks like growing up in an environment of substance abuse combined with having a genetic predisposition to it, is taking it's toll here. Nursing has traditionally been a profession known for compassion and empathy. Looks like nurses (and doctors) could use a bit of this medicine themselves.
What do you think of this? Are children of addicts more likely to take on "helping careers"? Is it an extension of co-dependence?Are we fixers for life?
After taking a little hiatus from updating about my mom, I'm back with a short update. I needed time away from thinking about everything that is going on with my mom while she's in rehab.
Long short: The Hanley Center told my mom they had filed the Marchman Act, which is something that "can be defined as a course of action that can be done either voluntarily or involuntarily to provide substance abuse emergency services and temporary detention for individuals in need of substance abuse evaluation and treatment".
So, she's been forced to stay in rehab until July 14th. BUT when July 14th comes around, my mom is going to find out that everyone wants her to stay in inpatient rehab longer than that. She is going to be really mad.
Anyway, I am going to Florida for family weekend (which you can read about hereor check out the previous post). I'm nervous about telling my mom that we are going to go through with the Marchman Act if she decides to leave July 14th, but I'm excited to see my mom SOBER and spend time with her...and also to learn about how an alcoholic family functions. I hope it is healing in some way.
Has anyone ever gone to a family weekend like this? I'd love to hear your experiences.
I just read this blog entry: http://www.bphope.com/bphopeblog/post/Positive-and-Negative-Thinking-is-Contagious.aspx
and it made me think. I've been feeling so stressed, so down, so blah about the situation with my mom. I just feel helpless. I really don't know what I can do. What anyone can do.
Small update: we're (her addiction counselor, my brother, sister and moi) having a phone conversation with my mom tomorrow to try to get her to stay and take the program more seriously. I spoke with my mom today and I just don't feel hopeful. She just doesn't want to stay at rehab.
DarkHorizon left a comment on my blog yesterday and said: "she doesn't know she has a problem". And that is partly right. She doesn't know and she does know. The tricky thing is she knows on some level, but her mental illness makes her not care if she lives or dies. And the drinking is killing her.
What am I supposed to do with that?
Anyway. The point of this post is despite these horrible realities I'm dealing with right now, I think I need to find a way to bring myself some happiness.
The hard and simultaneously wonderful thing about rehab is that you are out of touch with the alcoholic in your life. You hope that he or she is in good hands and that they can "work their magic".
My mom was at Caron (their website) for less than a week before they called to say that they could "not care for her physical needs". I guess they initially thought that they could, but then changed their minds. My mom's therapist also called to tell me my mom was one of the most difficult clients they had ever had because she wouldn't really participate in the program (she was just going through the motions) and denied that she was an alcoholic.
I understand that my mom is a difficult client, but is she really unreachable? She's 56 years old and she's going to die if she keeps drinking. I just don't get it.
Anyway, so then Caron told us that they would pro-rate the $30,000 we paid them (WHY IS REHAB SO EXPENSIVE?) and send her to the Hanley Center (website here), which is a rehab center that caters to elderly people, so they would have the nursing staff to help take care of my mom.
The Hanley Center just called to let us know that my mom was not cooperating (even though SHE decided to go to rehab...it's VOLUNTARY) and that we (my brother, sister and I) need to have a group phone call with my mom to "decide what the next step is".
It is so infuriating. I spoke with my mom yesterday and she was just angry and agitated. She "doesn't want to be there". She "misses home". I just have no sympathy. I hate her so much right now. I just don't get it. Is it the mental illness that makes it SO difficult to get through to her?
My mom stayed in the psych ward for a little over a week. I am just not convinced that locking people away from the community is the best form of treatment. I understand that some people are a danger to themselves or others, but the "locking up" part just seems so detrimental to a person's spirit. Is isolating people with mental illnesses really all we've got?
I need to read more about community-based living for people with mental illnesses.
Anyway, trying to get my mom transferred to a private care rehab center was a NIGHTMARE. The hospital did not want to help with that at all (even though they stressed the importance of an aftercare plan). It was so frustrating. No one would send her records (even after a medical release), speak with the treatment facilities, or even us. They would hide in their break room and refuse to speak with us. I'm angry just thinking about it now. Ugh.
I started to wonder if we were we an overbearing family, but even if we were...I'd rather have someone looking out for my mom's best interests. This hospital was like One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. Just awful. The psychiatrist who first saw my mom said that he would never send someone in HIS family to this hospital.
Good question to ask staff: What would you do if this were your mom/family member?
Anyway, my mom finally was transferred to a treatment center called Caron (read about it here) that said they would be able to handle my mom's:
My mom was hospitalized (for medical reasons) for 3 weeks. Her potassium levels were critically low from being so malnourished, which put her at risk for a heart attack. I don't know how she had been living like that. Not eating, only drinking beer, shitting herself every few minutes (oh, fecal incontinence), being so weak and depressed that she couldn't get off of the couch.
It's interesting how the mental illness plays into all of this. Do normal alcoholics get like this? Or was it the depressive side of her Bipolar disorder that allowed her to reach this level? It's so hard to know.
Anyway, once she was "medically stable," she was taken to the psych ward. Psych wards are awful. The first couple of times my mom was on the psych floor (in 2002 and 2003), it was a result of her arrests and it was a relief that she was there. This time she was just transferred there from her other [nicer] hospital room on the cardiac floor. It's a locked unit and the staff there are mean and demeaning. It's depressing and it smells like pee.
I will say though, you do have to find to humor in situations. For example, after my mom had to have her stomach "tapped" -- which is a surgery that removes some of the fluid in the belly from her ascites (click here to read about it) -- and my mom jumped out of her wheel chair (imagine how good you'd feel if you got 13 pounds of fluid drained from your belly) and walked over to the scale with a spring in her step. The entire backside of her gown was open (so cliche, I know) and her legs are so skinny (from the malnourishment, so it should've been sad, but it wasn't) and I don't know. She just looked so funny. My brother, sister and I just all burst out laughing.
Another funny thing had to do with another patient. Usually it's sad seeing people in the halls and around the unit, but there was this one old man named Stuart and he just YELLED all the time. Again, it should be sad since he was in this hospital with no family and he was obviously very ill (delusions, etc), but he would yell "HELLO? NURSE?" all day, and then when someone would go in his room, he would scream "GET OUT OF HERE!" He told his counselor to "Fuck off! You're a womanizer and a crook!" (best insults ever). And then after lunch one day, my brother offered to wheel him back to his room and when he was all settled in, Stuart turned to my brother, gave him the finger and said, "Get out of my room, faggot". It sounds so awful as I'm typing it, but it was the funniest thing hearing Stuart yell this at my brother. Sigh.
"When things are at their worst, Scarlett, the only thing to do is find something to laugh about. It keeps you sane".
-Rhett in Scarlett
So within the next few days, my brother, sister, aunt, and I all came to NY and had a "one last try" intervention. My mom was so weak, she really couldn't put up much of a fight.
My aunt (my mom's good friend) said something that stuck with me: "Why are you punishing yourself like this? The divorce was not your fault". It hit my mom too. I hadn't thought of it, but it was like my mom felt like she deserved feeling this bad. And it took her friend, not her children, to recognize this and say it to my mom.
My mom wobbled into the car, covered in shit stains, and was actually kind of stoic. I didn't know what to expect. Would she make us turn around? Would she storm out of the hospital? Would she die of a heart attach on the way there?
I have to say, the most helpful thing was having my aunt there. She used to be a doctor and actually worked at the hospital we took my mom to. She pulled strings, knew what to ask for, and even pulled a bitchy male resident aside to scold him when he rolled his eyes at my mom and judged her when we told him she was an alcoholic. If you can find someone or know someone who knows their way around a hospital, the whole process is much smoother. And it soothed my mom knowing that my aunt was there, taking care of business, kicking ass on her behalf.
Oh wait...this post was entitles "long short"...oh well. So, it took 8 hours to have my mom admitted to a room (for physical reasons). I can't even tell you the relief I felt knowing she was in the hospital, being taken care of, knowing she wasn't going to die that night on the couch as home. I wept the whole way home.
I arrived home and my mom greeted me at the door. It was the most horrific thing I had ever seen. She was COMPLETELY emaciated. And she looked nine months pregnant. I can't even describe how terrifying and awful it was to see your own mother like that. She looked like she was dead.
Because she was so cold from being emaciated (because she can't digest the food, it's like she's anorexic and was unable to tolerate cold), the house was 100 degrees and it smelled awful: like diarrhea (which was all over the floor from her fecal incontinence) and cigarettes. It was hell and my mom standing at the door, looking the way she did, was the gatekeeper.
I immediately told my mom that something was terribly wrong and that we needed to go to the hospital. I didn't know she had the energy, but she got angry and refused. She immediately went back to the couch (walking through her diarrhea soaked rugs) and laid down. The coach was crusted with diarrhea, her pajama pants were soiled, and her white socks were brown with hardened and new diarrhea on them.
I went upstairs and cried. I called my father, unsure of what to do. He told me to leave. He said that I should say goodbye to my mother and go back to my life. So, I called my brother. I told him he had to come TONIGHT. Mom was dying and I couldn't do this alone. My brother called my sister and told her the same thing. They were both planning to come the next day.
I also called my mom's really good friend who used to be a doctor. She was also on her way. This was mom's last chance.
I went back downstairs and mom was too weak to hold her head up. She was soiling herself as I was sitting down. So I waited.
I have decided to start this blog because I need something. An outlet. A way to take care of myself. Something constructive to do. I am en route to my hometown to visit my mom who is very, very sick. But before I talk about that, I feel like I should give a little back-story.
I had a very normal and happy childhood. I felt safe and protected, loved and special. I had a stay-at-home mom and a dad who worked a lot, but was fun when he was around. He is kind of a diva and would often take me shopping with him to furniture stores, men’s shoe stores (oh hay!), and some stores for me too.
My mom was super-mom growing up. She was well liked and always there. She supported us all of the time (at sports games, plays, picking us up and dropping us off from school, etc). She made the best chocolate chip cookies and helped at the school Book Fairs and auctions. She encouraged us to speak up for ourselves and not follow in line with what was expected (most of the time).
My mom grew up with a mother who wanted her to be “a lady” and all my mom wanted to do was play sports and hang out with her friends. My mom has never liked to shop or wear dresses, which disappointed her mother greatly, and they fought like crazy. My mom was finally sent to boarding school (which she was happy about too) and had the freedom to be who she wanted – wild, athletic, a rebel.
She excelled in sports and experimented with drugs, drinking, and smoking cigarettes. And she was celebrated for all of it. I thought my mom was adventurous and cool growing up. She had a hot temper and was used to getting her way.
My parents were childhood friends and kept in touch throughout college. I got the impression that they dated in junior high, and continued to hook up throughout high school and college when they saw each other, but also saw other people. They must have began to seriously date after college and got married in the 80s. My mom was the cool, pretty girl and my dad was the smart (somewhat nerdy), but funny guy. I think my mom always felt a little superior to my dad – like he was lucky to have her. (*This is all just what I think…having sex with each other and other people wasn’t a topic that came up very often in our house growing up…thankfully).
I don’t remember my parents fighting very much growing up. I also don’t remember seeing them be very affectionate with each other. They went on sporadic vacations, but mostly my mom scolded my dad for spending too much money (on cars, things for the house, wanting to go on vacations), and so my dad spent a lot of time playing golf with his friends.
I think it also didn’t help that my mom can be a homebody (or maybe she just feels uncomfortable going to the types of places my dad wanted to go), but she never attended work parties with him, citing not wanting to wear a dress/get dressed up (her adolescent charm was not longer all that charming).
I remember one Christmas my dad enlisted me to help him find fun Christmas presents for my mom. We got her new clothes (she wore the same stuff from LLBean all the time and never did anything nice for herself – it was either too girly or too much money). I remember picking out new clothes, a watch, and a sexy outfit for Victoria’s Secret, among other things. I think my dad was hopeful that he could buy my mom some happiness and make her feel good and worthy. She did not respond as he would have hoped. I don’t remember her exact reaction to most of the things, but I do remember her response to the VS gift. It was along the lines of “I’m too fat to wear something like that”.
Despite my mom encouraging us to feel good about ourselves, she has always had very low self-esteem. She never felt good in the dresses her mom wanted her to wear. I remember her complaining about being fat and doing Jane Fonda workout tapes before family events. She did the Atkins diet for a while and was very diet ugly most of the time. And she has always rebelled against things and people who make her feel uncomfortable or want her to be someone she didn’t want to be.
I don’t remember exactly when things began to fall apart. My mom had always had beer throughout the day – in fact, she is holding a beer in one hand and one of us in the other in many of our childhood pictures. I didn’t notice this until a few years ago, and I never thought it was strange growing up.
When I was about 13 years old, my mom started to sneak bourbon. I remember watching her do it from under the kitchen table where I was hiding/spying. I have a journal entry about it and my worries that she was an alcholic, but I don’t remember thinking much else. By the time I was 14/15, she was “sneaking” hard liquor all of the time and was officially a drunk. She was drunk all the time. She drove us to school drunk (I have some scary memories of this), came to our sporting events drunk, and stopped being a mother to us.
One night, my dad told my mom he wanted a divorce. I found my mom crying and drunk on the floor in front of the fireplace. I asked her what was wrong, and she told me to go away. I pressed and she told me to “Fuck off. Your father wants a divorce”. It was one of those moments where I heard her, but went into shock. My body stopped and I was very aware of it. I turned around and left to go tell my brother.
My mom continued to drink and was a very angry woman. At first, she tried to repair things with my dad. For example, she began to sleep in his bed again. My dad had surgery that required my mom to sleep downstairs because he essentially had an open wound in his stomach. So my mom, who always diligently took care of my dad (making him dinners, coffee in the morning, warming his car in the winters, etc) had started to sleep on the living room couch. The problem was…she never stopped. She slept on the living room couch for years. It wasn’t until my dad wanted a divorce did she sleep in the same bed again.
It was useless. My dad had been having an affair with his college girlfriend and he wanted to go try being happy with her. We were all so angry at him. Our feelings of abandonment and pain (for our family and for our mom) turned into hating him. It was all his fault, or so we thought.
A year or so after the divorce, my brother told me a story about when he was on the golf course with my dad, and my dad hit a bad shot and had a meltdown. He threw his golf club across the fairway, and began to scream and cry about how much he hated his life and how unhappy he was. The story shocked me. I had no idea that my dad had been so unhappy.
Looking back, I don’t blame him for wanting to leave and find happiness. I would have wanted the same thing if I were him. And he is now happily married with that woman (who is very well-suited for him – she puts on dresses, likes being spoiled, and goes to all of his work parties with him). But I do blame him for leaving us with our mom at that time. She was incapable of being a parent to my brother, my sister and me.
During high school, I became very depressed. I stopped trying and began to spend all day sleeping. I also felt obligated to stay home and watch my mom because she was not only drinking, but she was also starting to act totally insane.
She trespassed on neighbors’ property (at one point, got into the pool with out neighbors’ kids fully clothed and tried to teach them how to swim) and started doing strange things like playing music really loud and hanging a beach towel with a tiger on it over the fence to our house to let “them” know she wasn’t scared, arranging her beer cans in little fortresses all around the house for protection, and disappearing to go on missions. The house was totally trashed -- old pizza boxes discarded (my mom stopped cooking), clothes and garbage everywhere (we started to do our own laundry, but left things all around because my mom, who was never very clean to begin with, really let things go). The house was disgusting and embarrassing, and it was a true reflection of the state my mom (and all of us kids) were in.
My mom would stay up all night, sitting at the kitchen table behind her beer car fortresses. She was “thinking” – she had all of these ideas and worries. Apparently, there was a white van following her. We soon found out that she was in contact with the CIA and that the president needed her help. Or so she thought. They followed her everywhere. Sometimes she would drive around (completely drunk) just to try to “loose them” or show them something she thought they needed to see.
I don’t have clear memories of this time, possibly because I was so depressed myself. I do remember that my neighbors called the police a few times, and eventually members of my family arranged an intervention. My mom refused and they were forced to have her arrested and committed to a facility in our town. This “mental ward” was good in some ways, but it was also bad. It was good because she was forced to detox and she was given a diagnosis and medication. (Another plus: it gave my brother and me a BREAK. My sister had since moved out because she and my sister fought so terribly).
My mom’s diagnosis was Bipolar Disorder I. It explained the odd things that were going on and we all hoped this hospital stay would help her turn back into someone we recognized.
It did not work. She went on “acting crazy” for a few more years and hated everyone that had to do with her hospitalization (the doctors, the neighbors, and especially the family members who “put her in there”).
My relationship with my mother changed drastically. So did my brother’s. We were no longer the children and she was not the parent. She embarrassed us and we hated her for it. We screamed obscenities and fought constantly. We would hide her car keys so that she wouldn’t drive drunk. We would find her passed out under the kitchen table or in the back of the living room. We laughed at these things, but they were really upsetting too.
Even now, I feel bad admitting these things and feel like talking this way about my mom is a huge betrayal. I think a lot of children of alcoholics feel this way. And possibly children with a parent who has a mental illness.
It wasn’t all bad. I had a lot of freedom and got away with things I would not have gotten away with had my mom not been like this (or if my dad had been around). For example, my mom paid close to $2000 for my have laser hair removal all over my body (one of the best things I’ve ever done, by the way). I still don’t feel bad about having her pay for this. I feel like she owed me.
Anyway, eventually I went away to college and my younger brother was left alone with my mom. His relationship changed with her. He began to have outbursts of anger and bossed her around a lot. Most of the time, she deserved it.
My mom was hospitalized one last time during my freshman year of college. My brother, sister, and I spent Christmas alone while my mom was in the hospital. The next time I visited home, my mom’s face was all puffy (weight gain from medication, perhaps) and she was a zombie. I don’t know if she went into a depressive phase or if it was just the meds, but she was no longer the same person.
Mom was three seconds behind everyone else and spent all day and night sleeping on the couch and watching TV (my therapist said that what my mom was doing was “surviving the only way she knew how”). She stopped drinking hard liquor, but continued to drink beer throughout the day (in a strange way: she still sneaks it in the kitchen, but takes “shots” of beer every 15 minutes or so). She was lethargic and lost all of her fire. It was actually a relief. Everyone was so happy she wasn’t acting out and needing to be watched. She went on like this for about 7 years.
It has been a deep depression. She lost interest in everything she had interest in and continues to only get up to drink beer and smoke cigarettes. She won’t shower for months at a time and was just totally destroyed by this depression.
In the summer of 2010, as if things couldn’t get any worse, we noticed that she was having uncontrollable diarrhea, and was not making it to the bathroom. There was diarrhea on the floors and on her clothes. She was also throwing up most of the time when she ate. Worried, I took her to the hospital. It was a traumatic experience, but they told us the diarrhea was probably from the drinking. Her liver was swollen and they gave her 5 years to live.
At this time, she almost went in for treatment, but was given a window out when a family member told her that he wouldn’t judge her for not drinking and deciding to die like this. She leapt right through that window.
When I went to visit her in January 2011, she had lost nearly 40 pounds and was completely emaciated except for her hard, protruding belly. I burst into tears when I saw her. The diarrhea was still an issue and she had stopped eating to try to combat the diarrhea. Her only caloric intake was beer.
A few months later, my mom started sounding brighter on the phone. I was hopeful, but when I received reports from my aunt that my mom looked worse and was still having the uncontrollable diarrhea, I decided to call her social worker that my mom was assigned after her last hospital stay, and who was also the gatekeeper to her medicine. Mom hates her.
Under normal circumstances, a therapist or social worker would not disclose confidential client information, but this was apparently not a normal circumstance. I called and told her about what was happening with my mom and she said that she had been very worried about her. She stopped coming in for her medication six months earlier and she was not returning their phone calls.
So, now my Bipolar mom (or my mom who is Bipolar) is off of her medication and her health is failing. Miserably. She is dying and everyone is relying on me to save her.
