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I rarely start posts anywhere, but I just got this phone call from the mother of a friend of mine.
My friend's name is Howie. He's a hard core alcoholic who tried it all--multiple treatments centers, sober houses, AA halls, AA groups, Rational recovery. Everything but not picking up the first drink. He eventuallly became a falling down piss and shit your pants drunk. Charming even when blotto, he'd say in his Jersey accent "All I want to do is drink a beer and watch the game" A very hard worker, his alcoholism baffled him, because he could make money you know? He continued to try for sobriety, but often drinking with two hard-core street alcoholics who considered Howie An amatuer. Because Howie, for all his New Jersey toughness, didn't know how to live and survive as an alcoholic on the street. These guys knew. And the inevididable happened.
Howie ran out of booze. His alcohol level dropped too fast putting him into Grand Mal seizures. By the time the medics got to him to restart his heart, they estimated his brain had been without oxygen for 4 minutes.
We went to the ICU that night see him on life support, my husband sneaking in by saying he was Howie's pastor (My husband does have honesty relapses) Because he had some little card that said he was--some joke card. And there was Howie. We didn't want to believe he was brain dead, and we'd pretend there was some reaction when we'd say "Hey Howie, the Yankee's suck" We did a lot of pretending over the next few months as his parents decided to keep him on a ventaltor to breathe and a feeding tube to eat, and placed him in a nursing home. He was 40 years old. Over time, we visited Howie less and less, yet he became a cautionary tale among us.
So I just got a call from his mother, thanking us for supporting them in those early months. And no there's no change. And then she said "Howie has five years of sobriety today" shit. shit. shit. I hate to cry
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