Last night I watched the single saddest episode of Intervention ever last night. For those who have never seen this show, it's where family and friends of an addict get together to surprise them with a "gift" of rehabilitation. The producers tell the addict they're just shooting a documentary about addiction, and they film their everyday lives leading up to the intervention. Somehow after 4 seasons this still works. So apparently when addicts are sitting home drinking, doing meth, or binging and purging, the one thing they're not doing is watching A&E.
I cringe and cry when I watch the episodes following alcohol addicts for the obvious reason that I struggled with my mom's alcoholism for much of my life. The episode following manic-depressive alcoholic Sylvia almost retold my mother's story. The images of Sylvia sitting on her bed crying and screaming, her face buried in her fists, brought back haunting memories for me. I cried during and after that episode.
The episode that aired last night was also about an alcoholic named Lawrence. He was in his mid-thirties and he owned a chain of tanning salons. He was doing most of his work from home because he was drinking a liter and a half of vodka a day and didn't even realize it anymore. He was to the point that if he went without alcohol for too long he would have seizures. He became dependent on the care of certain friends and coworkers for his basic needs, such as food, and you know, making sure he didn't die alone in his bath tub. He was covered in deep purple, almost black bruises on his body, as a result of apparent liver cirrhosis. He was also small, pale, and weak, almost unrecognizable from his mid-twenties, when he was a happy, athletic, well tanned ladies man. Lawrence had also been previously diagnosed with cancer. He had the tumor removed and failed to get any follow-up treatment and the damage was apparent in his devastatingly frail appearance. The saddest part was that Lawrence would not admit that he had any sort of problem.
He was far gone. The conclusion to the story was not the usual hopeful or happy one. He was asked to prematurely leave treatment and died shortly after as a result of his liver cirrhosis.
The story deeply affected me not only because of the devastation his friends and family felt watching him melt away, but also because it further affirmed my belief that death is rarely a surprise, at least not to the person facing it. This may not be the best example because even one look at this guy and you could almost feel the decay. It was obvious to the people watching the show that he was a foot in the grave. It was obvious to his family as well that he was dying. His brother even said "I have emotionally prepared myself for my brother's death." Obviously they were just trying to salvage some hope of saving him, but even he knew on some subconscious level that it was his time. I think they all knew.
I went to bed last night hoping I could think about something else. I read more of my book of ghost stories, I watched Ground Hog day. I still fell asleep thinking about it and I woke up still thinking about it. I tried to tell Vance about it and he rolled his eyes and told me he had already heard about it, that some ladies at the dentist's office were already talking about. He didn't get that I didn't just to tell him about the episode, but that I wanted to talk about it with someone. But whatever. I have the internet.
Its been gross and rainy all day here. I hate days like this. I wake up only wanting to crawl back into bed. I went to the dentist and had my teeth cleaned. I have a cavity in the back of my mouth. It's been hurting ever since the hygienist dug out all of the protective tartar, the bitch. I'm getting it filled next Tuesday. We also went to Dinner with Vance's cousin Allie and her boyfriend. My stomach still hurts. I'm going to take a nap.