The Secret Keeper got out of the hospital yesterday after 10 days. I cannot tell you exactly what was wrong with him as I did not speak to a doctor. I do know that he was on a binge (and not food) before going in and I do know that he needed dialyses at least once while there. Otherwise, I have pretty much left it up to my girls to make decisions and let me know whatever they choose. That's a hard thing to do for a recovering control freak but I did OK. My sister (the nurse) on the other hand, was inundating me with questions and peppering me with advice for a person we have no influence over. It was out of caring but it was not remotely helpful and added to the stress.
Yesterday I had a HUGE (picture Donald Trump with duck lips) and vivid reminder of how life was before my marriage ended. The Secret Keeper called me to tell me he was getting out of the hospital...he left a message, he called again....he left a message.....he called again....he left a message. He was not unpleasant. Quite the contrary, his messages started out with, "Hi Honeybunch" and proceeded as if we were still a couple. I would have rather he'd be a little unpleasant but who gets to choose right? Anyways.....he didn't get a response quick enough so he check himself out of the hospital, "borrowed" a pair of crutches and crutched himself, shoe-less in the cold, to MY house. His truck had been stored there by my daughter so that the rest of the addicts / users (or whatever they are) that he currently lives with, didn't take off with it. He had no keys, so he proceeded to pester my poor neighbors for help with Auto Club. Unfortunately, my neighbors have never met him, he had no ID or wallet and, to be honest, he's not exactly what you would call normal when encountered.
Finally my youngest caught up with him. His truck wouldn't run, he still had no shoes, he had a flat, needed new tires and he blabbered on about getting the truck lifted higher. ???? Who knows what goes on in the brain of the mentally ill? She went in the house and got his travel bag that contains enough medications to kill 3 elephants, including a nice little baggy of methamphetamine, and he went on his way with a few words about possibly looking into rehab.
So goes a day of life when you care about a mentally ill addict. Hopefully, I am help to my kids, support them through their sorrows and be a calm in their storms. Hopefully, I do nothing that makes the Secret Keepers life harder. So blessed to have a man that could hear the voice mails without getting angry, care about the well being of my kids and the Secret Keeper, and remind me that I am a pretty good mom even when I feel like a piece of garbage.
Monday is here and my office is warm and quiet. I may even get some work done :)