This post is a little out of date, but it belongs here in sequence – just dated last Thursday night.
I went over to the house after work to help pack stuff. Wife was drinking; this made her bitter, angry, and illogical. I was helping the boys dismantle their bunk beds and she came into the room, screeching at me about my support offer and alleging that it would leave her in poverty. (In case you wondered, the math doesn’t begin to support this.) Her face was maybe six inches away from mine and she was screaming at the top of her voice. I made myself just breathe, and then responded in a low voice, “Please get out of my face. Please get out of my space. I can’t answer you when you are like this because I can’t think.” I said this a few times while she stormed threats at me, and then she said, “I’ll get out of your space all right! Just give me forty-five minutes!” She ran back into the bedroom and slammed the door.
The boys and I wondered if this meant she was calling a friend to leave, or something worse. But in a while she seemed to be asleep and both of them sighed, “Good. Maybe if she sleeps off the martinis she’ll be better.” We went back to work, disassembled their bed, and moved it to storage.
They asked me to stay to dinner. I was going to meet Debbie, but she had been out of town and wasn’t back yet; also the boys really wanted me to stay for company. Wife was still silent. So I stayed for dinner. Son 1 grilled some chicken breasts on the barbecue, I boiled up some rice, and we had quite a pleasant meal. A good bit later I took off. Debbie was back in town by then so I drove by her place on my way home. (She is moving too … I think I’ve mentioned this. Busy summer.)
While I was at Debbie’s, Son 1 texted me that Wife was awake. She had gotten up, stumbled to the bathroom to try to throw up, and mumbled semi-coherently “Didn’t try hard enough.” Son 1 was adamant that I should stay away and not let her know that I knew; he insisted that he and Son 2 had the situation under control and could manage her, but my presence would reignite her fury. But when I told Debbie – who is a nurse – I heard a very different story. Debbie urged (quite rightly) that teenage boys should not have to conduct a suicide watch on their mother, and that I should call 911. She added that even just hearing about it second-hand, she was walking a fine line by not interfering; but if she saw it directly she would be legally obligated to call. I thought for a few minutes and then decided that she was right. I texted Son 1 that I was on my way and left.
Son 1 texted me frantically telling me to stay away. When I got to the house he came out to stop me. But I insisted I had to go in. I checked that she was still keeled over in the bathroom (Son 2 was attending her), and called 911.
In the end it was a huge waste, I guess. Her pupils were pinpricks but she answered their questions flawlessly and so they legally could not take her against her will. They spent a lot of time getting my story and Son 1’s story. They also explained that the way she looked fit what we were telling them, and that if she had slipped up on even one question they could have taken her. But she didn’t. And so after an hour or more they left. They boys and I privately expressed amazement to each other that she could pass this test, although I admitted that she had always said she would do anything to prevent being hospitalized for mental problems against her will. Son 1 joked that maybe she practices the answers in front of a mirror, for just such an event.
It was late by now, after 11:00. I sat with Wife until she went back to bed and fell asleep. I also moved all her medications out of the bedroom and into the study, where Son 1 was playing computer games. He said he’d be up until late (in fact he stayed up till 5:00 in the morning) so he could keep her from getting into more drugs. Son 2 went to bed. Once Wife was asleep, I left to go back to my apartment.
What a night.
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