He's In There Somewhere

by Cheryl
(Hertordshire )

Last Febuary I recieved a call from a friend and she said, "are you sitting down?" I replied why what's up. It's Dal she said, my heart dropped. I hadn't seen him for nearly twenty years, yet just hearing his name brought back all those memories I had buried over the years.

We once had a great relastionship but were never a couple, although that didn't stop me from loving him, or constantly thinking of him over the years.

"What about him" I asked. My friend went on to tell me that he had just been pulled out of a river. Apparently he had been drinking. It seems they pulled him out just in time as the doctors said another few minutes and he could have died. My friend didn't know much more but said she would keep me informed as to how he was getting along.

Over the following weeks his story started to unfold. It sounds like he had become reliant on alcohol over a period of maybe six years. His partner had tried to get him into rehab, but was apparently told he wasn't ready, and so the relationship ended. It was only when he was pulled out of the river that his family was informed that he was dependent on alcohol.

I don't know or understand why his partner chose to keep it from the family and I can't blame her for what has happened. But I do wonder if they had known earlier, could they have done anything to prevent this outcome.

By the end of Febuary he was living on the streets or in parks. By this time I had heard enough, and I had to go and see for my self if there was anything I could do to help.

It was a cold rainy day when I went with a friend in search of him. His sister had told us where we might find him, and off we went. It seemed once we got to the park that we walked for ages but really it wasn't that long before I saw a figure sitting against a tree surounded by bushes.

I walked around in front of him and said, "hello Dal." As he raised his head and I looked into his eyes my heart broke. We got him back to my friends house and he had a shower. I was so choked up I could hardly speak...this was not my Dal. When we found him he was dirty and bloated and had cuts and bruises on his face and arms.

I wondered what had happend to him. What was so bad that it had caused him to turn to drink. The bottle of vodka he had in his hand when we found him was half empty but on seeing us he through it into the bushes.

We sat and talked for awhile and it felt like we had never been apart. He said that he wanted to get help and I believed him. His family also got involved and wanted to help him too. I really believed in my heart that with our support we could get him through this.

Over the next three months he stayed with his sister on the condition that he didn't drink in the house. His family visited, and myself and other mutual friends kept in touch by phone every day. I went to see him every opportunity I had.

Between us, we got him a room to rent which he wasn't impressed with but it was a step up from the bush he had been sleeping under. We tried to ween him off the vodka on to beer, thinking that gradually we could do the same with the beer.

By this time his father had taken him to AA meetings and a walk-in detox clinic, all to no avail. The problem was and I did try to explain this, he had never been able to open up, he had always been the same. His family knew this but when you try and tell this to the professionals they tend to think your making excuses.

He couldn't be admitted because it was not classed as a mental problem. I found that really hard to believe because his own doctor had said he was depressed. Surely somewhere in his head there was a mental problem that led him to take that first drink. It's now been nine months since we found him in the park and the only improvement for him is the room that he rents.

When he's out with us he don't touch the vodka and sticks to beer. Each time I see him and we talk I see a little of the old friend I used to know hiding behind those lost eyes.

I know in my heart he's in there some where, but don't know how to coax him back out. When he does go on his mega binges we call them his blips.

Through all this I have come to realize that alcoholics are the best liars, and they do hide the evidence and then try to convince you that their sober. And because of this many people tend to give up on them.

Professionals appear at times to have little sympathy, and so they are left to deal with it on their own. People say he needs to hit rock bottom before he can start to see any light. In my mind rock bottom can be a dangerous place, and so I have to ask, "is there really nothing we can do to help him before it's too late?"

In the last ten months I have begged him to come and stay with me and my husband. I have even offered to help him with a detox or go to various clinic's but his pride gets in the way and he tells me no. I do honestly believe that he is a lost lonely soul that could recover.

He love's being in company and hates being on his own. He feels that he has lost everything and has no reason to go on.

How can we convince him that life is worth living when he feels he has lost so much. I would beg anybody that feels the need to turn to drink to go to one AA meeting or a clinic and listen to the stories these people have to tell and get a glimpse of what they are going through because of drink.

It may start as an innocent excuse but it becomes an illness. Will power is the only real medicine and that gets harder to find with each swig.