The past two days

The past two days have been pure hell, and I would not wish them on anyone.  Today is only just beginning, but I smell disaster in the air.  

It started when I realized that my wife was acting funny.  She was not responsive, she was slurring words when she talked, she couldn’t move with any coordination.  Apparently, I am slow to notice these things, because our roommate said it had been going on for a few days.  Normally, she sits in her chair all day, telling or asking me to do things for her, depending on her mood.  The day I noticed a problem, she hardly asked me for anything, compared to the usual.  

DC (roommate) and I got hold of her bottles of Oxycontin and Vicodin, both prescribed by the same doctor, and found that she’d taken about half a bottle of each within a three day time-frame.  This is not the first time it has happened.  Far from the first.  Yet this has been the WORST one yet. 

In the past, I have attempted to dole out the meds myself, which is not good, because I cave too easily to her crying.  We’ve also had my mother take over her meds and dole them out as prescribed, which is again the way it is since yesterday.  

We reached a personal low yesterday, and it’s embarrassing as hell to write about it, but maybe someone else out there can relate to it.  She fell yesterday in the bathroom.  After spending all morning at the hospital, we finally got home around 2pm, I think.  We had the firemen, whom we had to call to help her into the house, put her on the edge of the bed.  That was a mistake.  She sat for SEVEN HOURS on the side of the bed, crying because she couldn’t stand up or lie down on the bed.  At first, I thought it was an act.  Now, I just don’t know.  I thought that she just wanted her drugs, but would anyone put themselves through THAT for drugs?  That’s not the embarrassing part.  Well, not for me, anyway.  At about 3am this morning, she needed to go to the bathroom.  Somehow, she got up and we made it to the bathroom.  After she’d done her business in there, I realized, much to my horror, that I had to go, too.  Not pee.  The other option.  She was stuck on the toilet.  I waited and waited while she tried to push herself up.  It repeatedly didn’t happen.  I wound up having to go in the bathtub.  It was embarrassing as hell, even though nobody but my wife knew about it, at that point.  I cleaned it up as soon as I was done, don’t worry.  Still horrifying, though.

I forgot to mention that throughout all this, my wife has decided it is perfectly fine to scream at me for the smallest things.  Things that aren’t even my fault.  I’m getting really tired of it, but I don’t know what to do.  I promised "for better or for worse" and "in sickness and in health".  I guess I just figured I’d get more than five years of good.  

I still love my wife, but this drug thing has challenged me greatly.  It feels like she loves pills more than she loves her own husband.  Does anyone else feel this way?

Wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

Love to all,

Herman