I will never leave you

Georgia Nursing, Aug-Oct 1999

The following is a true account of a Georgia nurse's experience in dealing with her disease of addiction. This story has been submitted to Georgia Nursing and is not to be reproduced without permission of the GNA Nurse Advocate Program.

I was born in the early 1940's and was the oldest of three. My brother and sister were only fourteen months apart. I was three and a half when my brother was born and enjoyed "helping" when they were babies.

We moved to Aiken when I was 9 due to my Dad's job. I enjoyed my childhood; we were only two and a half hours away from my grandparents and visited often. I remember spending time on their farm during the summer. Cousins who were our age lived across the road from them and we would occupy ourselves by making a dam at the creek so the water could back up and we could go swimming. I had friends in elementary school and two very close girlfriends from the seventh grade through high school. We were in the band and went to all the football games and played for the basketball games. I was the only female trumpet player, and the guys explained the game of football to me. I feel that growing up in the fifties and early sixties was a magical time and for me was a lot of good clean fun. Pot wasn't on the scene yet and we knew who the boys were that would try to sneak liquor into the prom and knew they were folks we didn't need to be around.

I remember an uncle asking what I wanted to be when I grew up and without hesitating, I told him "a nurse because I want to take care of people." I was around 5 or 6 years old at the time. I decided to attend a three year diploma school for several reasons. After the completion of nursing school, I worked on the obstetrical unit on nights because it was the only shift open. In those days, one was the labor and delivery nurse, administered ether for the deliveries, covered the nursery and post partum. I grew tired of nights and the feast or famine world of OB and began work at the Medical College on the neurosurgery/general surgery unit until my first husband and I married and moved away.

When we got married, for me it was "until death do us part." I came to the realization over time that I didn't think God intended for marriage to be this unpleasant and finally got the courage to confront my husband about the status of our relationship. "I can't love you here," was his reply. My response was that location didn't have anything to do with feelings of love and asked if we could seek counseling. He didn't want outsiders knowing about our business; now, I feel that he probably didn't want to get in touch with himself.

We were married for five years prior to our divorce. Luckily, there were no children. He was not physically abusive but definitely was verbally abusive. This was a devastating time for me. I felt that because my marriage was a failure, I was a failure. It really rocked my sense of security. I had lived on my own before my marriage and realized that financially I could live on my own again. After the divorce, I began to have a beer after work to "unwind.'

When I met the man who became my second husband, I was scared to acknowledge my feelings about him and certainly didn't want a second failed marriage. From the first date I felt as if I had known him all my life. I am basically a shy person, but we talked with such ease that night and on subsequent dates. We talked about everything, my failed marriage, his near marriage and the breakup that occurred, our philosophies regarding children, etc. No, we didn't have the influence of alcohol to make it easy to talk, it was a sober relationship. We did attend affairs where alcohol was served, but it was not an everyday happening.

I don't know why or when I began having a glass of wine everyday after work, but it happened. Each time I learned I was pregnant, I stopped drinking. I don't remember when I started. having a drink after work again and then another before going to bed. Then, I began having two drinks after work and another before bed. At the time of the intervention, I was consuming three liters of gin a week. I would pray that my husband would not see the car at the liquor store and ask questions. There were several times when he would remark that he thought I was drinking more and I would agree and would decrease my intake. I drank at home, and would decline going on a trip with him to the mall in order to have a drink he wouldn't know about. I didn't wake up in places I had no idea where I was or how I got there, as I have heard others describe. I would forget conversations we as a family had discussed and that was the extent of blackouts. I didn't drink on the job, get up in the middle of the night to have a drink in order to get back to sleep or have a drink before going to work to get going.

The day of the intervention is an experience I don't want to live through again. I chose not to call my husband at work and went straight to the treatment center and called him from there. All I could think of was what I had done to him and our daughters by drinking, and I asked him if he was going to leave me. Without hesitation, he said no and told me he loved me.