A friend gives her view of an alcoholic diagnosed with liver disease:
As a step daughter who's step father is a recovering alcoholic who now is in the late stages of cirrhosis, all I want is more time. Why? Because I was so wrong, about everything...
When my Mum met Gene, I thought, why is she seeing this guy? My Mother, who can't even drink a shirley temple with out passing out in a stupor, goes out on a date to a bar, drinks fuzzy navels, then Gene has the guts to carry her through our front door?! Mum is just giggling, singing, and waiting to give me a big hug. All I felt was repulsed, this was not my Mum - the lady who was serious, always on time and always had a plan. Gene told me to relax, "she had a rough day, she just had a few drinks to calm down."
Not only did I hate Gene but my Mother also. I was 16, old enough to deal with my own life without her help. My mother married Gene, and I felt betrayed and alone. I was so angry. I was her daughter, and she chooses this guy, the guy who all he does is talk about his cars, how he fixes them up, how much he sells them for, and drinks cheap fart-making beer. When he had a "big day"at the auction he would then drink the good stuff - you know the kind of liquor - the stuff that smells like cough syrup.
Every family get-together ending with Gene being drunk, listening to my mother make excuses for him. "You know how much pain he is in from his car accident," or "it's just a couple of beers," as he can barely walk, let alone make it to the bathroom to relieve himself or throw up.
Eventually I went to college, got married and settled down in life. I was happy, living far, far away from my mother and Gene. Then 10 years later I got the call...
Since meeting Gene, I knew he was going to have problems with his liver. In my heart I knew his drinking would kill him. How could it not - drinking a case of beer a day? I never forgot to remind my mother (or anyone else who would listen) that Gene would pay for all his drinking, saying "that's what he will get, exactly what he deserves." To make things even, I never forgot to tell my mother (a heavy smoker) about the latest friend/coworker/neighbor who was just diagnosed with lung cancer, and that is what happens to those people who smoke.
When I got the call, all I could hear was my mother crying,"Gene might not make it. His liver is failing, he is in the hospital, having all kinds of tests done!" I heard my Mum for the first time - she loves Gene, the man, not the alcoholic.
That was when I saw Gene for Gene, not just his addiction. He was the man who helped my mum recover from the loss of her Dad, the man who would quietly listen to me rant and rave about what a jerk he was, the man who would sell off his favorite cars so that I could go on my senior trip or so my mum could go to the doctors, buy groceries, or pay the electric bill.
When my Mum had to leave her job due to a medical condition, Gene was the one who supported her financially and emotionally. Gene is the one man who loved my mum for who she was and is. He is the closest thing I would ever have for a father. Who was I to pass judgement?
He does not deserve to have advanced liver disease, just like the smoker who dies of lung cancer didn't deserve to die, or the person who did not wear her seat belt and now is a quadriplegic. We are human, we make mistakes, we make wrong decisions, and sometimes become addicted to the one thing we thought would always bring us comfort.
Gene has to live with his own mistakes, but for me, I have to accept Gene for who he is, not what I wanted him to be. I still hate his drinking, but I have accepted him, just as he did me so many years ago. I want for my mum and Gene to have many long years together, for us all to have the best relationship we can have.
For so long, all I wanted was Gene out of my life, and now all I want is more time, time to make up for all the anger and hurt. I want time for my Mum, so that she and Gene can live out their lives as they planned. I want my children to know their grandfather.
I don't know how much more time he has, or even how much time any of us have, but I know now - I don't want to waste a minute.
As a step daughter who's step father is a recovering alcoholic who now is in the late stages of cirrhosis, all I want is more time. Why? Because I was so wrong, about everything...
When my Mum met Gene, I thought, why is she seeing this guy? My Mother, who can't even drink a shirley temple with out passing out in a stupor, goes out on a date to a bar, drinks fuzzy navels, then Gene has the guts to carry her through our front door?! Mum is just giggling, singing, and waiting to give me a big hug. All I felt was repulsed, this was not my Mum - the lady who was serious, always on time and always had a plan. Gene told me to relax, "she had a rough day, she just had a few drinks to calm down."
Not only did I hate Gene but my Mother also. I was 16, old enough to deal with my own life without her help. My mother married Gene, and I felt betrayed and alone. I was so angry. I was her daughter, and she chooses this guy, the guy who all he does is talk about his cars, how he fixes them up, how much he sells them for, and drinks cheap fart-making beer. When he had a "big day"at the auction he would then drink the good stuff - you know the kind of liquor - the stuff that smells like cough syrup.
Every family get-together ending with Gene being drunk, listening to my mother make excuses for him. "You know how much pain he is in from his car accident," or "it's just a couple of beers," as he can barely walk, let alone make it to the bathroom to relieve himself or throw up.
Eventually I went to college, got married and settled down in life. I was happy, living far, far away from my mother and Gene. Then 10 years later I got the call...
Since meeting Gene, I knew he was going to have problems with his liver. In my heart I knew his drinking would kill him. How could it not - drinking a case of beer a day? I never forgot to remind my mother (or anyone else who would listen) that Gene would pay for all his drinking, saying "that's what he will get, exactly what he deserves." To make things even, I never forgot to tell my mother (a heavy smoker) about the latest friend/coworker/neighbor who was just diagnosed with lung cancer, and that is what happens to those people who smoke.
When I got the call, all I could hear was my mother crying,"Gene might not make it. His liver is failing, he is in the hospital, having all kinds of tests done!" I heard my Mum for the first time - she loves Gene, the man, not the alcoholic.
That was when I saw Gene for Gene, not just his addiction. He was the man who helped my mum recover from the loss of her Dad, the man who would quietly listen to me rant and rave about what a jerk he was, the man who would sell off his favorite cars so that I could go on my senior trip or so my mum could go to the doctors, buy groceries, or pay the electric bill.
When my Mum had to leave her job due to a medical condition, Gene was the one who supported her financially and emotionally. Gene is the one man who loved my mum for who she was and is. He is the closest thing I would ever have for a father. Who was I to pass judgement?
He does not deserve to have advanced liver disease, just like the smoker who dies of lung cancer didn't deserve to die, or the person who did not wear her seat belt and now is a quadriplegic. We are human, we make mistakes, we make wrong decisions, and sometimes become addicted to the one thing we thought would always bring us comfort.
Gene has to live with his own mistakes, but for me, I have to accept Gene for who he is, not what I wanted him to be. I still hate his drinking, but I have accepted him, just as he did me so many years ago. I want for my mum and Gene to have many long years together, for us all to have the best relationship we can have.
For so long, all I wanted was Gene out of my life, and now all I want is more time, time to make up for all the anger and hurt. I want time for my Mum, so that she and Gene can live out their lives as they planned. I want my children to know their grandfather.
I don't know how much more time he has, or even how much time any of us have, but I know now - I don't want to waste a minute.
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