Look at the time. It’s actually 4.03 or it was when I wrote this.
I’ve watched a few repeats of Bake off and Masterchef and I’m still not tired. This afternoon the pump from the walk-in shower packed up leaving me sitting on the chair paddling in water like the king in his new clothes. It was all I wanted to do today after a hard week (relatively).
I am pleased to report that there has been no need to use the life line for a whole week. I’m big enough and ugly enough to understand why:
I’m still feeling a little bit of a hole in my life but…
Since the dawn of time, (well, his legitimate drinking age I suspect and years before I knew him) my hubby has been a red wine drinker.
Before my time with him, many years ago now, he always had a fondness for the red, but this developed even more when he took a change from his usual work life and became the manager of an off licence. He did all the courses and held all the required certificates, but he embraced the training and knowledge a little too fully! He admits now, during that time the fondness for drink had got out of control. What seemed shocking to me and others was perfectly normal to him. Life threw various events and grief at him, as it does, and somewhere in there, he realised things needed to change. He set himself limits. Generous ones albeit. Just one bottle a night.
When we were new and I first visited his flat in London, on seeing the overflowing box of empty bottles I asked had I missed a good party. He saw nothing odd in his reply that, no, he’d missed the recycling that week!
Living on his own for a few years with only the company of his dog, it was an easy routine to develop. Home from work, shower, cook something to eat, walk the dogs and call into off licence on way home. We became a couple and this routine of his became “normal” to me. It didn’t affect his mood or health, or ever prevent him from doing his job. However almost thirty years later, the day I was diagnosed, he stopped drinking. Just like that. Stopped. The buy 6 bottles get a tenner off deals, buy 6 and get extra points on loyalty card, was of no relevance to us. It was actually quite shocking how this had become the norm for our household.
I woke up paralysed and unable to get out of bed etc during the small hours of the morning. He called an ambulance and spent a fretful time waiting for it’s arrival. Not knowing what was occurring with me and that he was unable to drive me to hospital, being well over the limit troubled him greatly. I only learned this later when, he asked that the red wine was no longer part of our weekly shop. Sobering stuff Steve. Sobering stuff. I admire his strength and endurance and love him all the more. He still enjoys the red on holiday but only then. It can be done and I would never have believed that. Best of luck with your abstinence.
I only wanted to say you’ve given me an Ear Worm…Charlie Pride. “It’s four in the mornin’ and once more the dawnin’s just woke up the wanting in me…”. xx
Friday a.m. awake 2 - 4, read book, put heating on, tidied undie drawer, did some drawing, watched tele, took some big pills. It’s a weird thing being awake in the night however I don’t dread it anymore, rather relish the quietness, not a lot of traffic, no schoolchildren tearing down the road with a fag on shouting, its even before the birds wake up so really peaceful. I always arm myself with lots of tea and big pills, occasionally a naughty rich tea biscuit for the night watch!
Good thing about a hole Steve (and I’ve been considering this a lot lately with life-changes blah blah), it leaves something to be filled with something good be it small or insignificant, like a door opening rather than closing.
Well actually it’s nearly three in the morning. I was in bed and sleep was yet again elusive. Suddenly, for absolutely no reason I could think of, I found this song going on in my head. Heaven only knows how long ago it was around. '73? '74? Word for word, the beautiful song played out in my head.
Who remembers Summer The First Time, by Bobby Goldsboro?
