Carol looked at Denise. “To some degree I lied to you about me, by omission of course. But it is still a lie. Six months after my amputation I tied one on at home one day. I was depressed. I lied to my mom that I had an appointment with the doctor. When you start lying you are about to get into trouble. Mom picked up the kids and I left in the car. I went to the liquor store and picked up two bottles, one to drink now, one to stash. Like you it was premeditated drinking. I planned it. I went home, hid one bottle, took out the bottle and got shit-faced drunk.”

“I can’t imagine you that way. You are so, mature, so respectable.”

“Over eighty percent of the drunks in this country aren’t on skid row. They are respectable. At least they look that way. Think of your friends in Hollywood.”

“Yes. At least a dozen of the actresses my age are boozers. They have alcohol problems worse than mine.”

“Do you know anyone who drinks too much that has less a problem then you?”

“No. Why?”

“Because nobody has an alcohol problem if they drink less than you. It is one of the lies that all alcoholics tell themselves. Others we use are “I am a problem drinker, a heavy social drinker, occasionally drink too much, need the alcohol for stress, I never drive when drunk or I am a love-able drunk. There is no such thing as a problem drinker. We either handle alcohol responsibly or we are alcoholics. The line on social drinking is passed when it becomes a problem for us or the people around us. That can be business associates, neighbors, other people on the road, whatever. Once our drinking becomes a problem for someone else and we don’t quit drinking we are alcoholics. I have yet to see someone with an alcohol problem who does not drink while driving at times. And I know of no love-able drunks. Most are not nice. Many are just plain nasty. Even if they are not nasty when drunk they are when hung over.”

“The way you put it, I feel like dirt.”

“Understand, I tell myself this about once a week. I do it so I don’t fall back into the old rut.”

“Maybe I need to record this speech and play it back daily.”

“You need to do whatever works. It is what every alcoholic that is dry does, whatever it takes to stay sober.”

“I will as much as possible.”

“Now want to know what happened when I got drunk that day? It’s confession time. This helps me stay sober.”

“Sure.”

“Well, I took the bottle home. I went to the kitchen and opened it, got a large tumbler, poured one heavy shot, and put the bottle in the cupboard. I was going to have just one glass. I tasted it. One taste and within a minute I chugged the whole thing. Then I got the bottle out and poured another.”

“It hits you that fast?”

“I can’t even taste alcohol unless I am chained so I can’t get more. My gut heaves and I just need to pour it down my throat. It is a craving you can’t imagine.”

Denise looked back. “Yes, I can imagine. I am the same way except I get the craving about five minutes after I get the first drink. After that you would have to fight me to keep me away from the booze till I get smashed. In fact I clawed a guy pretty bad one night. He tried to keep me from getting smashed.”

Carol laughed, “I gave my husband a black eye once trying to get a bottle from him when I was pregnant with my first child. I always drank till I passed out then I always felt so bad when I woke up that I promised I would not do it again but when the pressure got on I always lied to myself that I could have one sip and stop. I was half right. I could have the one sip. I just never stopped. From the time I was fourteen I never drank that I did not pass out unless the booze ran out first. If it did I was bitchier than I have ever been with PMS.”

“God. That sounds like me. And you seem so… so… respectable.”

“Yep. Respectable looking. I was a closet drunk. I never drank when I was keeping the kids but I palmed them off on my mother or mother in law and got plastered. I always had something to do that I needed them to keep the kids. I called them doctor’s appointments. Sure, I got medicated, but not the way they thought. My husband would come home, find me passed out on the bed or sofa, call his mother, then mine to find the kids, tell them I was sick and they kept them till about noon the next day. I only screwed up a few times and was out when I was drinking. I even stayed sober at parties.”

“I tried that a couple times. It worked except when someone gave me a drink with alcohol.”

“My husband always got my drinks when we were out. That way I stayed sober.”

“So what happened?”

“Oh. After my amputation?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I got the bottle and went home. I was using my crutches. I always use them when I shop. I got home and went in the house. I put on my peg leg and started drinking. I can walk better with it when I am drunk. I was pretty well snookered when I realized I had to pee. I got up and started to the bathroom. It was up one half flight of steps. When I was on the commode my stump felt tight so I loosened the belt on the peg leg and I forgot to latch it when I got up. The leg stayed on for five steps, from the bathroom to the stairs, without the belt. It stayed on till I tried to lower it to take the first step down. It slipped nearly off my stump. I tried to grab it and lost my grip on the handrail. My stump went about an inch inside the socket but the leg had rotated so it couldn’t go in any further. With the stump not going into the socket the leg was nearly 6 inches too long and it wasn’t stable. It supported me on the top of the socket, then as my body moved forward the peg leg pitched me into mid air and I fell to the floor at the bottom of the steps. I landed with my right leg under me sideways and straight on the end of my stump. I fractured the right tibia, fibula, and ankle. My stump was torn internally with the bone sticking out. It was bleeding. I pulled my shirt off and put pressure on the bleeding from the stump. I found the peg leg and pulled down the phone and dialed 911. The paramedics found me on the floor in just my shorts and bra and took me to the hospital. I spent three days there where they patched up my body then I was transferred to rehab for my boozing. I have not had a drink since I came home.”

“Golly, you really got hurt.”

“It took six weeks till I could get back on my foot to walk. I spent that time in a wheelchair. They did surgery on my stump to fix the damage and it hurt more than it did when they amputated my leg. I could have died from blood loss. But it dried me out and if it hadn’t I would be dead by now from some other accident or liver damage. My husband would probably have left me. He nearly did. And if he had left I would have lost my two children.”

“He must be a great guy.”

“He was.”

“I thought you said he didn’t leave you?”

“No. He didn’t leave. He died about two years ago of cancer.”

“Crap.”

“I almost went back on the bottle but I promised him after he was diagnosed I wouldn’t drink and I can’t. I have four kids to feed and care for. I promised I would bring them up right.”

“Who has them while you are here?”

“My mom and mother in law are taking care of them. Grandparents are great. They are both on social security. After I got off the bottle my husband and I bought a house that had been divided into three apartments as an investment. Six months after he died I sold the house we lived in and moved into the largest of the apartments when the tenet moved out. The grandparents moved into the other apartments over the next year. They pay less than half the rent they would elsewhere and I can work because I have child care. They split the days with the kids. The kids love it and the grandparents love it and it works. That’s why I go off at times and talk on the phone, I get time with the kids.”

“I bet it is hard not being able to see your kids.”

“It is very hard. But I needed the money and this was the way to get it. The way Fritz pays I get about twice for this as I would for special nursing. My history of alcoholism hurts me in getting some jobs, in fact more than my amputation. Hospitals and nursing homes are lax to consider me for a nursing leadership position. I get less money with special nursing but it is better than anything else.”

Denise got quiet for a minute. “I thought I was the only one.”

“You aren’t. Most alcoholics suffer economically. Most of them blame the boss, the economic conditions, the company and the like. I did for a while but it is the booze and till I owned up to it I wasn’t helping myself. You will never beat the booze till you see it as the root of your problem. At the least most alcoholics settle for a lesser paying job or a less desirable job because of their background. But over time it gets easier as you prove you are really off the bottle. I was considered for a lead position about a year ago and didn’t get it. It was great, regular hours, more pay, and a route to higher pay. I could have lied to myself and said it was not because of my alcoholism. Another woman with gobs of experience in the field got it. They have a nursing supervisor that is near retirement. The woman they hired as the lead will almost certainly get her job. I was told they will contact me when there is a position. They want me on staff to replace her when she gets promoted. It was as close to “you have the next job” as you can get. ”

“That’s great.”

“Yes, but not really. She got the experience on a job that I didn’t get three years ago. I lost that one because of the bottle.”

“Shit. That isn’t right.”

“I can delude myself that way too but look at it this way. You’re a patient. Would you want a nurse doing your care who was badly hung over or even still drunk from last night’s binge? Would you want someone responsible for the floor who had no experience if there was someone with experience? I wouldn’t and I shouldn’t expect someone to cut me a break where it could harm someone.”

“I guess I would want the best.”

“And I would too. It stinks but we did this to ourselves. I didn’t get the job because I was drinking. You didn’t get parts because you were drinking.”

“How well do I know. And I had to loose a leg to learn it.”

“How much money have you lost? Or the things that matter, how many real friends?”

Denise Chapter 01: Success in Hollywood

Denise Chapter 32 – Getting Denise More Mobile

Denise Chapter 34 – Denise Faces Her Past and Her Future