Admitting You to Rehab

Day in and day out was the same thing. Sometimes you went to work, sometimes you were "sick" and had to call in for a week straight. The third week of not going to work was the final straw. First came the ultimatum, then came the anger, finally came the acceptance. But wait, your drunk and still drinking. How do I get a drunk fool on a plane for rehab... shoot, I can't. Ok, lets get to detox. What is detox? Where is detox? It must be at the ER right? I call, they say say they do detox so I bring you. I wait 3 hours in and ER with a drunk idiot. What is taking so long, you are starting to raise your voice and threatening to leave. Why can't they hurry? Don't they know it took me 4 hours to get you in the car and another 2 of trying to convince you to get out of the car in the parking lot? Finally we go to the back only for the doctor to tell me that they do not detox at their hospital. WHAT!? That can't be right. I called and someone said they do. Great, now I have to do this again. I have to get you into a detox somewhere. It's 3 AM and I'm tired. You're angry that brought him there for nothing. We fight, go home, and sleep.

Ok, day two of getting you to detox. Hopefully it doesn't take another 6 hours. I call a center, they schedule you to be there at 4. You is drinking again but whatever, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. You yell at me while I pack his things so you will be comfortabl.e It doesn't take as much convincing this time. It only takes an hour to get you in the car and 5 m. inutes to walk in the center. It's early afternoon on a Sunday so I still have some of my day left. I go home and I pass out for the night because I am so spent from the events that happened from the week prior.

It's Monday, I wake up and go to work as usual. One hour into work I get a phone call from the center. Great, they are bringing you to the ER because you are complaining of stomach pains. I found out hours later you are being admitted due to pancreatitis. Wonderful, your drinking almost killed you. You keep calling and asking me to bring you things. You wants clothes but he's not happy with what I bring because nothing fits your swollen stomach. You isn't satisfied with how often or how long I visit even though I work a full time job. You complains about everything I bring you to eat and drink even though you are on a limited diet.

After being in the hosptial for one week it is finally time for you to get on a plane to go to rehab. The hospital releases you somewhat early even though you has an afternoon flight. I am over all of this by this point. I cannont wait for you to get on that damn plane and be gone for at least a month. I am tired. We go home, you showers, then we head to the airport. I am anxious about you catching your flight and you are just mad that I'm obvioulsy ready for you to leave. Don't you see what you have put me through? It is finally time for you to go through security. You are past the point of my vision and all I can do is pray you get on that flight. You won't answer my texts or calls so I know nothing until the rehab center employee calls and tells me he has you. Getting that you out of my house has sadly been one of the most liberating feelings I have ever felt. I'm not feeling liberated because you are getting help, I feel liberated because for the first time in 8 years you are not my problem.