John
A chronic alcoholic, a phone call, the police, and devastating news: the
formula of tragedy. Found dead in his apartment at forty-seven years of age,
John’s death was not a surprise. His lifelong alcohol and drug induced pseudo-nirvana had ended. Any hope for a spiritual awakening, possibility of treatment, or
stint into sober recovery disappeared with his body on the coroner’s table.
Because of the condition of his body when it was discovered, the requisite autopsy
was performed. Confirmation from his postmortem revealed what his family and
friends suspected: death from hepatic cirrhosis. John’s last deadly dance with
alcohol culminated in bloody vomit, an alcohol level of .39, and a lone body of
man on a bed putrefied by alcohol and drugs.
The son of a friend, John’s descent began in his adolescence when he first
became infatuated with intoxication. His joyride was not just about getting high
but getting wasted. Devoid of inertia or brakes, John’s escalating behavioral
and legal entanglements left his parents few choices. Outpatient counseling was
ineffective in reducing his ardor for mind altering substances. The last straw,
an admission to a reputable treatment program, only seemed to instill the
temperate life was not for him. It also introduced him to better connections for more exhilarating highs.
As he progressed through adulthood, the pace of his imbibing intensified,
producing a litany of repercussions. Alcohol fueled accidents, jail terms,
financial ruin, and deteriorating health bounced off his impenetrable armor.
These warning signs were either summarily dismissed or denied. Avenues providing
him with additional treatment options were fiercely rejected.
It would be easy to dismiss John as a pathetic drunk, habitual druggie, or
low-life derelict. Despite his propensity for getting obliterated, he was well
liked by those who knew him and valued by his employer. Even the cops in the
small town where he lived would sometimes transport him home from the local
tavern when he "overindulged". His kind and helpful demeanor made it easy to
overlook his obvious "problems".
The denouement of John’s alcoholism was a silent heartbreak whose recourse
hardened his family’s Achilles heel. Throughout their ordeal his family tried to
hold onto his fundamental decency, hoping he might bottom out and come to his senses. No one
ever believes Dr. Jekyll will permanently become Mr. Hyde. Insurmountable odds
ultimately eroded their suspension of disbelief.
While Al-Anon provided them tools to counter the insidiousness of
codependency, it could not completely eliminate the stinging scourges incurred
by John’s progression into addiction. Fortified by John’s inability to become
straight, the family resolved not to be dragged down by enabling the disruptive
chaos of his plight. To insulate themselves from the wake of alcohol’s sequelae,
they practiced detachment. This meant they no longer implored, berated,
condemned, or punished him. They let go of having any control over the
circumstances he created. There were no more interventions, rescues, bailouts,
or financing of his predicaments. He alone faced all the consequences of his
actions.
Needless to say, sometimes they would not see or speak to him for years. During the last year of his life John had phoned them sporadically, attempting through his profound alcoholic haze, to reestablish communication. Knowing his addiction was in its final stage, they patiently listened to his incoherent ramblings. There was nothing more to say or do. Their stoic acceptance of his addictive apocalypse validated it was only a matter of time before an ominous call could be expected. Weeks later when the toll of his death knell sounded, years of rehearsed requiems gave them the strength to gracefully handle his interment. If there was a silver lining in this sad tale, it would be that his family expected this communiqué ten years earlier.
Nick
Addiction-backed expiration creates an eerie déjà vu among its survivors.
John’s waltz with morbid addiction awakened memories of my friend Clare's ex-husband Nick,
another departed habituate. A co-member of the dead-at-forty-seven club, Nick’s
alcoholic bungee jump occurred twenty years earlier under similar conditions.
Born in the same small northern Minnesota town where John died, Nick’s
journey with addiction also began as a teenager testing his penchant for
intoxication. Everyone admired Nick’s charm, humor, verbal acumen, and
intellect. Conversant as a renaissance man, his breadth of knowledge captivated
anyone in earshot. He didn't fit the stereotype of an alcoholic. Acts of
immoderate consumption spaced months apart made it seem that he had nothing more
than a recreational problem. His drug of choice was beer. Yes, beer.
When Clare first met Nick he had been in recovery eleven months following an
arrest for his first DUI. Motivated by "hitting bottom", he voiced being
bone-tired of enduring the guilt, humiliation, and utter despair inflicted by
alcohol. Genuinely contrite after this brief incarceration, a spiritual
awakening inspired him to pledge no further recurrences. His humility and
dedication to recovery overrode any reservations Clare had about being in a
relationship with him.
Cautioned by his family and friends of his struggles, Clare disregarded their
forebodings. She focused on supporting his sobriety by not becoming his
unwitting alibi. For awhile it seemed to work. Armed with a false sense of
confidence, Clare was certain she could leap the hurdles before her. So she
leapt by getting married. Little did Clare know she would be hurdling over her own anger, frustration, and exasperation.
Initially Nick maintained sobriety by following his version of the AA program. Living with a
binge alcoholic, Clare attempted to balance the hope of sustained abstinence with the
hard reality of the chemical’s allure. There had been a couple of lapses but
Nick rebounded with a mea culpa desire to stay sober. Recommitting to the AA
principles, his "birthday clock" reset as did an expectancy of continued
abstinence. But there was a problem with Nick’s "program"-he was following his
own abridged interpretation of AA. Multiple rationalizations for this, including
no connection to a sponsor, reinforced delusions of self-control. To admit being
powerless over alcohol contradicted his entrenched autocratic ideology. This
lone ranger regimen quickly sabotaged his fragile recovery and propelled Clare into
Al Anon.
As time advanced, further slips became all-out benders. Frightening
pathological symptoms emerged. Descending into the torment of addiction,
antagonism erupted toward anyone or anything interfering with his drunken "danse
macabre". He became fluent in the language of denial and blame. A cynical
defiant stance intertwined with shameful despondency. Emotionally labile, one
never knew which Nick you were addressing. Legal skirmishes became frequent
events without fear of consequences. When not drinking he was recovering from drinking. Five rehab
admissions ostensibly punctuated his inebriant bouts with dry drunk moratoriums.
Dreams of Nick ever living a life in recovery vanished like the contents of his
cherished bottle of beer
.
The journey of final stage addiction subjects those in its cross hairs to
abject anxiety and dread. Worry for the addict, their safety, and for potential
victims caught in their wake can be a consuming obsession. What would be
compassionate and merciful in a healthy relationship is almost always enabling
and detrimental when dealing with a terminal addict. Any rationale used to
rescue them from their free fall serves only to prolong the pandemonium. Defying
reason and logic, their decline is an unremitting vortex of spiritual,
emotional, and physical ruination. Horrific is too inadequate of a word to
describe the powerlessness of witnessing the addict’s depravation
.
The decision to end their relationship after seven years was the result of an
epiphany. Worn down by her numerous attempts to salvage their
relationship, Clare suddenly realized that Nick did not have a problem with
alcohol. She had the problem with Nick’s alcohol. Nick never got past the
first step in AA. Clare finally surrendered. Nick’s life was no longer in her hands.
Divorce gave her the detachment to release him to his karma, whatever that was
to be. She relocated to another state to protect herself from the ongoing drama. Geographical distance allowed her to
emotionally move on. The healing began as she refrained from indulging in the shamed-based dialogues and unrealistic expectations driving her misery. As her life progressed, his life
ebbed.
Predictably, when Clare's marriage with Nick dissolved, the legal system
became his primary codependent. It was the eighties and addiction recovery was
still in its infancy. Though Mothers against Drunk Driving had campaigned to
show the human and financial cost of driving under the influence, the courts
faltered enforcing tougher sanctions for habitual offenders. Astonishingly, Nick
skated through his DUI court appearances with light jail sentences, court
ordered rehab, and probation.
His adroit handling of recidivism’s revolving door masked his steep decline
and chronic medical problems. Once proud of his honed body builder frame,
alcohol induced diabetes ravaged his physique while beer-swilling marathons
decimated his brain. Mr. Hyde completely forgot who Dr. Jekyll was. "Gravely
disabled" was the operative phrase to characterize his level of functioning.
Family and friends finally distanced themselves from him, seeking protection
from his destructive spiral.
Grim reports from distant relatives described his rapid deterioration.
Psychologically Clare prepared an obituary, waiting for his corpse to catch up
to the funeral. Like John’s family, she awaited "the call".
Nick’s final days were spent in a small town in Idaho working pick up
construction. Ironically, alcoholism had little effect on his strong Midwestern
work ethic. The day Nick died was actually one of the few days he called in
sick. He was discovered dead in a trailer house by a supervisor suspecting
something dire about his absence. When 911 could not revive his depleted body or
battered spirit, a coroner rendered the final verdict. Clare never learned of
the exact reason for his demise, nor did she ask. Suicide by addiction is not
recognized as a cause of death unless the patient leaves a note.
Notification of Nick’s death elicited an empty sadness tinged by relief.
Grateful his suffering had ended quietly, Clare was also thankful his exit did
not include additional victims. The last vestige of her sorrow was grieving for
the future with him which never actualized. Making an
appearance at Nick’s memorial was unnecessary-Clare had mourned his passing
years ago.
An alcoholic, a phone call, the coroner, and grievous news: the conclusion to
the throes of chemical dependency. John and Nick’s alcoholic folie a deux
exemplifies the rule rather than the exception. The American Society for
Addiction Medicine has classified addiction as a chronic brain disease, not an
implication of poorly controlled will power or moral failing. This is their
epitaph.
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