Thank You, Al-Anon

Mom is sober today

“Your mom looks like crap. You better do something.”

This was how one of my mom’s good friends put it. Drinking a fifth of Vodka a day at age 74 takes its toll — and not just on your hair, nails, and complexion.

Mom managed her life well on the outside, volunteering, playing bridge three times a week, and visiting sick friends. But then her driving got wonky and she scraped a few parked cars.

Her solution — give up driving, get rides or take the senior van.

Oh, and she fell at the stadium, during a college football game, down a long flight of concrete steps, miraculously, only badly bruised. Her entire body turned black and purple. No bones broke.

However, her insides were slipping — inflamed liver, shortness of breath, as her heart couldn’t get enough oxygen to her lungs, and, no surprise, her balance. Maybe she should use a cane.

Maybe, just maybe, she should stop drinking.

So I got the call in June. I made a trip out to Ohio and put her life on track — or so I thought. I set her up with a case manager. I got Meals on Wheels to deliver food daily so she’d have nutrition.

It didn’t occur to me that she wasn’t eating because the high carb calories from the Vodka filled her up. And she augmented that with candy and ice cream. So come on, who needs fruit and veggies?

My plan didn’t work.

Turns out I was enabling her. But that didn’t sink in until I got back home and started attending Al-Anon — the twelve-step program for people with significant alcoholics in their lives.

It turns out that alcohol abuse is rampant among older women. Especially widows, which my mom is. When you think of drinkers, this is not who usually comes to mind. Yet millions of women, lonely and often house-bound find solace in this lethal liquid companion. And the health risks from drinking rise precipitously with advancing years.

My dad died in the early ’80s and Mom’s drinking gradually accelerated over the years, especially as health challenges curtailed her volunteer work. This made her more isolated, which led to depression, which increased her drinking.

So I attended Al-Anon with high hopes. They would teach me how to do an intervention and I would execute the plan and save my mom.

Not. They don’t focus on the alcoholic.

They focus on the Al-Anon member. Us co-addicts. They don’t teach us to take control. They teach us to work the twelve steps, which remind us we are powerless over alcohol. The alcohol our loved ones drink.

They teach us to let go and surrender, putting the focus back on ourselves. Live our lives, with or without the alcoholic, our choice, but live our lives.

Damn. That sounded cruel. If I did nothing, she would likely drink herself to death.

That’s her choice.

What, are you kidding me?!!! Not on my watch. That had been my motto — -not on my watch. And I guess, as long as we both were alive, it was still my watch. Damn.

And if I let go, and she dies, that’s on my conscience. I was stuck.

Luckily, I have a dear friend who’s a long-standing member of Al-Anon. It took me about six months of getting over myself before I was totally open to new wisdom. When I finally was, she had this to say:

“You get one chance. To speak from your heart and tell her you care, that you’re not going to keep fixing her life. Or watch her die. Make it clear what you’re not willing to do and then mean it. Don’t do this unless you really are ready to stick to it.”

In other words, say your piece and that’s it. She’s free to choose or not. It’s not up to you. You have to accept her choice and let go…and then you have to implement the consequence you set.

Gulp.

And yet, from what I knew about this disease I knew she was right.

In the same way the women and men in my home meeting were right and their experiences bore this out. In the same way I learned about in my drug and alcohol studies classes. In the same way I’d seen with clients in my groups at the hospital. In the same way Lois W. set boundaries with Bill back in the '30s.

But this was my mom!

How could I tell her I wouldn’t come to watch her die? How do you not go visit your mom? Isn’t that what unconditional love and family ties are all about?

But I kept hearing my friend’s voice echo in my mind over and over. You have one chance…you have one chance…you have one chance.

To save a life.

It took till early February of the next year for me to gear up for this conversation. My hands shook as I picked up the phone. Taking a deep breath, I got right to the point:

“Hi mom…I need to tell you something. I can’t come there anymore and watch you drink yourself to death. You need to go to the hospital like your doctor keeps saying. When you’re ready to go, I’ll be on the very next plane to support you. But otherwise, I can’t come there and watch you die.”

I did it. I actually said it. She was very quiet. It was a quick call. She didn’t say much before hanging up. I wondered, had she actually heard me?

It took four days.

She called me back four days later and said she was ready to go to the hospital. I booked a flight and when I got there we went to see her doctor. He was glad to see me and her new openness.

But then, she balked. “How ‘bout I try to quit on my own and if I can’t do it then I’ll go to the hospital?”

Crap. I did not fly halfway across the country for this. I said a prayer under my breath while asking questions, buying time. “So, Doctor, if Mom does check-in at the local hospital, what can she expect?”

He proceeded to explain how badly dehydrated she was. They would start an IV and pump her with fluids and electrolytes and other good stuff. Plus they would give her medication (Ativan) to relax her while her body starts detoxing. She’ll be so relaxed, she’ll probably sleep a lot. It should only take a few days…”

Inside I was thinking, then what? But I played along. I reminded her of my earlier statement. If the doctor said she needed to be in the hospital now, she needs to go now. If not, I’ll take the next plane home.

The prayer worked.

There was a long pause before she agreed. I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding. We went back home so she could pack a few things and went to the hospital.

They checked her in and put her to bed. They started an IV. They gave her drugs. We watched Jeopardy and M*A*S*H. She fell asleep and I went back to her apartment.

I rounded up all the booze in the house and a friend came over and got it. It was a huge full box.

High school reunion, Al-Anon style

I spent that week going to local Al-Anon meetings and reconnecting with old high school friends there. I met a woman Judy, whose brother was in my high school class. She knew my mom socially and promised to invite her to go to AA with her when the time came.

Turned out Mom stayed in the hospital a week and then was discharged to a local skilled nursing facility to have Physical Therapy and get her strength back. That was mainly to make it easier to stay sober. Phew.

I went back home and returned three weeks later when she was discharged. By then I was invited to speak at a monthly joint AA/Al-Anon pot luck as I was from out of town and they weren’t yet sick of hearing my story.

When Mom came out of the nursing facility, I invited Judy over for tea and banana bread. We had a nice chat and she invited my mom to go to the above-mentioned pot luck by saying half the town will be there — I just can’t tell you which half.

Mom agreed to go. She would collect her one-month sobriety chip at her very first meeting. And I would be the Al-Anon speaker.

That made me nervous. Do I mince words for Mom’s sake or do I tell the truth from my heart?

I told the truth.

I spoke about enabling her and the not on my watch bit. And I said how proud I was we were both there. And sober.

That was fifteen years ago.

Mom has remained sober. Now 89, she lives in a bigger city, getting rides to AA meetings from her Assisted Living center. She plays bridge, does puzzles, and knits up a storm for her new great-granddaughter.

Sad to say, our beloved friend Judy died a few years back from lung cancer. Rest in peace, Judy.

I can’t say enough about Al-Anon. Without their help, who knows what would have happened. I would have never heard the sage wisdom — you have one chance… don’t blow it.

For anyone dealing with loved ones who have this disease — and substance addiction is a disease — please take this to heart.

Get help for yourself.

Ironically, it works by taking the focus off the alcoholic or addict and putting it back on you. Addicts and alcoholics crave attention and drama. They like being at the center of your universe.

But it’s exhausting and draining and robs you of your life.

When you remove your attention and/or your enabling behavior, it creates an opportunity for them to make a decision. As long as you enable them, they’re never faced with making that decision. They may be faced with nagging, yelling, controlling, cajoling, none of which works.

Getting help for you is the best chance to save not one, but two lives.

For more info about Al-Anon, click here.

If you enjoyed this story, here’s one — not as successful — about my dad:

Marilyn Flower writes political humor to delight socially and spiritually conscious folks. She’s a regular columnist for the prison newsletter, Freedom Anywhere, and five of her short plays have been produced in San Francisco. Clowning and improvisation strengthen her resolve during these crazy times.