My niece officially checked into rehab this morning at 10 o’clock on the dot. She had come to peace with the decision, from the sound of it, and was not struggling or fighting the decision any more. Each little step along the way, since that Tuesday night, has felt like a holding pattern of “we’re almost there.” When she was brought to the hospital, still alive – we were out of the woods, but not really. When we got the first update on her condition – alive, but medically induced, and we could see her. Out of the woods, but not yet. Ventilator unhooked, sedation cut off. Out of the woods, but what’s next?
Talking to her for those few days, asking her what her plans are, and seeing that her focus was no longer or broader than getting out of that hospital room. Planning and conceiving that we were going to cut her off from our family if she couldn’t see what she had to do next. Her stubborn nature of deflecting the idea because he mom wanted it so badly. Her insistence to contact her friends and let them know how she’s doing, even though none have bothered to see for themselves. Her denial about where she was at, and where she had gone, feeling okay because she no longer craved the drug. Her selective memory of what the doctor had told her about dying, and refusal to acknowledge why drug and alcohol toxicity landed her in the hospital for a week.
The final demand of the doctor, her only authority figure that mattered at this point, of rehab or extended hospital stay. Her endless questions and excuses that were met with realistic explanations, until she ran out. Her final plea for just a few more days, to relax and get her things in order. A few more days, more than likely, to think up further reasons and excuses as to why she didn’t need this. She finally realized, and we finally showed her, that we weren’t buying it anymore. She finally stopped coming up with excuses and retorts for explanations. Her acceptance and resignation, then agreement to move forward. We’re almost out of the woods now, but not quite.
I understand that the first couple of weeks of rehab are still sort of a holding pattern of will-she-or-won’t-she accept the treatment. The first week, primarily, knowing that she’s free to leave (but without the funds to get her back home) are somewhat worrisome. However, there’s a lot of truth to out of sight, out of mind. The past couple of days without her here, I’ve found myself with a lot of free time. I have become accustomed to staying up until 3 or 4 or 5 in the morning, texting her and making sure she’s okay. Making sure she can make it home, or letting her know I can get her if she can’t. Hundreds of dollars spent on cigarettes furiously chain-smoked on the porch til her little black car came creaking around the corner. Hours upon hours of pacing and waiting, reminding her of why I’m still up.
It’s actually been pretty great to not have that hanging over my head. It’s amazing to feel that you don’t have to be caretaker to someone so ill from their own devices. It sucks being a caretaker to a person with an addiction. It really sucks. You can’t get through to them. You can’t change them. You can’t make them see a damn thing. You can talk to them until you’re blue in the face, and they hand out token promises that you know they won’t keep. You can stand there and listen to their pleas that they’re trying and that they’re working on it, knowing that you either do or you don’t. You see the constant deflections and chaos they throw in the air to make you concentrate on something else.
It’s actually almost fascinating to see the mind at work there – almost. It’s too bad that it’s so detrimental in the process.
So, for me, I’m proclaiming that we’re finally out of the woods. No what ifs will be allowed to enter this mind. She’s not here, which means she’s getting help. Until I hear otherwise, that’s just what’s being done. There’s no need to plan the what if for something you can’t control, but there’s a lot of free time on my hands that needs a little bit of sorting out on its own. Hello to routine – I welcome you back. Exercise and meditation, so happy to see you again. Order is finally making its way back, and I couldn’t be more happy. And football season has started, and I can plan my outings without the worry of whether or not there will be a family crisis.
Now, where’s that champagne?
startingoverpastmyprime 