2018.07.13

There I was, congratulating myself on making - once again - a commitment to sobriety. I'd fallen hard off the wagon and was teetering on the abyss, when I realized - "Hey! It's already July! October is just around the corner. Don't you want to be around for one more Halloween?"

Sure.

So I put the bottles down with the promise that I would return to them on November 1st. After that, we could consider our escape plan.

Then MW called me at work.

Crying. Wailing. Making inhuman sounds. Babbling incoherently.

Eventually I pieced enough information together: she'd fallen. In the kitchen. And was worried that it was a symptom of Huntington's Disease.

Ah. Fuck.

So I'm drunk now. At work. I don't want to go home; I can't go home. It's so easy lying to her over the phone: of course not; you don't have HD, no, of course not, everybody falls. I fall all the time. Why, just the other day somebody here at work fell. Seriously. Had to go to the hospital and everything. Shoo. Falling? Shoo.

But at home? With her twisted, contorted face looking hurt and confused?

Oh Christ. I can't do it.

But I have to. What choice do I have, besides the ultimate. Here, let me take another drink and think about it some more....

What are my choices?

***

When MW was on the phone just.... just breaking apart. Oh God, the sounds she was making! Like she was in hell. In hell.

And I lie to her and tell her it's okay and I'll be home as soon as possible (point for me: Since MW doesn't let me drive anywhere, I have to take the bus, but it doesn't start running until late afternoon as it's one of those Park 'n Ride deals. Bonus for me! I have a couple hours to drink at the office!)

Anyway, as I'm on the phone, just lying my ass off, I start to think: who would do this for me? Who would protect me from myself were I going crazy?

Not a single, solitary person. Oh, certainly not MW. Not that I blame her at all; but she wouldn't/couldn't deal with it. Even if she were healthy, I know, 100%, she wouldn't put up with it. She has (had) too many friends, too much family. They wouldn't let her lose everything to take care of somebody who was so... hopeless.

They would tell her to put me in a home or something.

And they would be right to do so.

It's all academic anyway. I'd've killed myself. For certain.

Hell, I'm barely hanging on now; and only because....

Because....

Little help?

***

Not a single person. My mother couldn't - she can barely take care of herself. My father's dead. My brother and sister would also put me in a home (again, right to do so) as they have families.

I have no friends.

None.

Because Huntington's Disease has driven them all away.

***

I'm drunk, but I don't have much time.

Soon I'll have to leave the office and go home to face MW. She'll spend the evening - likely well into the next morning - making plans to safeguard the house that won't amount to anything.

And I'll lie and tell her everything is okay and we'll do whatever she says. It'll all work out.

Tomorrow I'll try to sneak some cheap wine.

Sunday is dry because Texas doesn't fucking allow spirits sold before noon and MW doesn't like to leave the house when it's hot.

Monday I'm back at work and I think I'll go to Spec's for lunch and buy the hard stuff.

And we'll see where that takes us.