How Am I Supposed To Get Through This?

It's after midnight, and I'm home from work for the second night in a row. I somehow didn't think about the fact that my teenagers were going to be gone Friday night and I had no idea when they would be home Saturday.  I couldn't leave my nine year old home alone with his dad.  This week is a bad week mentally for Todd, he has had only one "normal" (staying in bed for at least 8 hours) night sleep.  The rest of the week he has taken naps here and there, but most of his time has been spent in the garage.  It's just after midnight and I finally got Todd upstairs after being in the garage all day.  He's having a lot of problems with his memory this week. Five minutes after getting him up the stairs, he tells me he hasn't been downstairs to smoke yet. "What do you mean? You just came upstairs!"  "No" he says, "I haven't been down there for awhile." He turns around and goes right back down the stairs...I want to cry. This is the second time we've gone through this pattern this week. I am crying as I write this. I don't want to do this anymore, it's too hard. I hate it. I won't be at work again tomorrow, because I know tomorrow is going to be worse than today. I've already been through this once this week. I'm tired...mentally tired. My paycheck is going to be crap. I can't go to my family reunion this year, and I'm so unbelievably angry about it. He's ruined every reunion for me. Yes, I do blame him. He's sick because of choices he made, and I'm tired of taking care of him. I'm thinking about talking to my doctor about medication for depression. I don't know that I'm depressed so much, as I'm just sick of everything and I've had enough. How am I supposed to get through this, when I've had enough? Don't advise me to pray. I pray all the time. Maybe I'm praying for the wrong things. I just want to go a day without feeling like I want to run away.  I looked up support groups on the internet for caregivers of people with cirrhosis. The first entry I read, made me cry. The woman described what she goes through with her husband. She was describing my life. She said she often has times she says she's done and tells him she's leaving. I've been there too. This disease sucks....it more than sucks. I'm tired of arguing with him about stupid things like him wanting me to take him to the store at 10:00 at night, because he doesn't realize what time of day it is, or driving, or something he can't find. I'm sure if I were to ask him right this moment what day it is, he would not be able to tell me.

The only way I can describe it is this... It's like dealing with a person who has been drinking...except 24/7.  Which is awesome considering I put up with him being an alcoholic for years.  Sometimes he acts 2 beers drunk, sometimes it's like he's so drunk he is blacking out. All day....everyday varying degrees of this.  He'll tell me I'm crazy if I try to tell him what this week has been like when his mind is a little more clear....because it will be. Watching someone get drunk will never be funny to me....its a good way to escape reality? Give me a fucking break. I actually find it sickening. I'm writing all this in a notebook, because I don't want to turn on my computer. It's now after 1:00am, I have to go downstairs and try to convince him again that it's time to come upstairs to go to sleep. He'll probably end up sleeping in his chair in the garage. I can't argue with him and I can't carry an almost 300 pound man up the stairs. So, one more attempt, either way I'm going to bed. I don't know what else to do. He's driving me insane. I'm feeling a tiny bit better now that I've gotten that out. I'm still tired. I still don't know how I'm supposed to get through this.....to keep moving.....to keep going. I can't just walk away, even though I wish so many days that I could. I continue on day by day, minute by minute, reminding myself to just breathe, because even though I don't know how I'm supposed to get through this, I know I will.  The only alternative is for me not to, and that really isn't an option....too many people depend on me.

It's 8:30am, his side of the bed is exactly the way it was when I fell asleep. He stayed up all night. My  nine year old comes in and lays next to me. He's showing me his latest video he made of himself playing with his trains. I'm smiling, but not really paying attention. I walk downstairs to the garage. Todd is sitting in his chair, the door is open, and he's awake for right now. He looks at me, I close the door without saying a word, and walk back upstairs. I'm not in the mood to argue with him. His wounds are getting worse. They have spread from his ankles, to his feet, to his toes. It is getting harder for him to walk. He still won't monitor his blood sugar, or eat right, or quit smoking. I don't know how he will escape amputation. I have a feeling, it's coming, but I can't predict the future. My house is all stairs, I can't even fit a wheelchair through any of the doors. I'm forced to think about the "what if's" on a daily basis. This week has been too much for me. I'm going to miss my family reunion...I really needed that time away. I hate this house, some days it feels like a prison. I know people are going to ask what they can do for me. Nothing....there really is nothing. I close my eyes, I take a deep breath and tell myself it's time to face the day.