the right thing

I don't know what I want to do with this blog anymore. I don't want to blog about my husband, soon to be ex husband because I think it bores the fuck out of people. However, since I'm still here...

Last week or so, I decided it was simply time. It was over and done and the last straw had been... um... 'strawed'. I gave him a few days to get his stuff together and get out. I was so angry - mostly because I didn't want it to end THIS way.

I don't know if it's been a week or two weeks since then. Maybe two weeks. Anyway- so fast forward to last Friday and I offered to drive him to rehab. The day before, he went to a facility and DURING the intake process his blood sugar dropped to dangerous levels, they had to call 911 and he was sent to the ER, and then was told he could not go to that rehab. It was a state run facility and while they may take patients with health problems, they needed someone a bit more stable. This facility was a pain in the ass though, from the beginning. I decided to just use my insurance and find him a facility that had a few more resources. I allowed him to stay one night and on Friday he found a new place that took our insurance. Ok fine. So I took the morning off and drove him around lunch time, about 60 miles to Riverside to a nice looking place that was acceptable far enough away.

So I'm waiting in the kitchen area when he comes out- and he's white and sweating and headed for the vending machine. His blood sugar is dropping... again. Ok, now my husband doesn't have LOW blood sugar problems, he has HIGH blood sugar problems. The only time his blood sugar ever gets low is when he takes too much insulin... so yeah. great. He ate a BUNCH of candy, which I knew would be a problem later. Then went back into the office. More waiting.

Then I get called into the office.

Your husbands blood sugar is very low. We had to call 911.
again.

Great.

So the rehab facility tells me that they referred him to a different detox facility that CAN help him with his blood sugar but he needs to be stable before they take him in. So the ER needed to stablize him and then he could go into that other place. So off to the ER where I explained to the doctor what the situation was. He hadn't explained to the doctor what the situation was. This didn't shock me, which was why I insisted on going back there. When the doctor asked him, "so you need a letter clearing you for detox?" He agreed and played along, but I know now that he was doing his best to either get a last dose of meds, or had it in him to use whatever means possible to screw this up.

7 hours later and his blood sugar had spiked up (thanks to all the candybars)- and then it finally came back down and the doctor said he would clear him and we could be on our way. His response to that was instant anger. He got up and pulled out his IV's etc. He walked off the unit and then came back when the nurse followed him. He was in a rage and wouldn't even wait until we GOT the discharge paperwork to leave. The doctor was confused and when Mike walked off the unit, I explained to him and the nurse what I suspected was going on. Now he HAS to go to rehab. His efforts to sabotage failed, and now he's pissed.

The nurse had me go out front and she agreed to come out with the discharge paperwork. Security also followed, making sure that I would be ok. He offered to drive us to the rehab center. Can you imagine? The hospital security, btw, was the Moreno Valley Police Department. So yeah, that would have been all kinds of awesome- but no, I'm ok.

So it was 11PM now, and we drove to the facility. and waited and waited and waited until he was taken in. We barely spoke until it was time to leave.

At 12:45AM, I finally went home leaving him behind.

Those were the details of the day. The emotional nightmare can barely be touched. It was a bad day. I had nothing but guilt because I was forcing him to do this. I had no idea if he wanted to get sober, he said he did- but he had no other choice at this point. I was putting him out- I was leaving him homeless. This was his only hope, and I was helping him get there- and his negativity about it made me want to put his bags on the side of the freeway and him with them. Even in these last moments together I felt so angry that here I was trying to help him and he was still resisting. Even in the end, he would never accept what I was trying to do. He would never truly appreciate it.

I know I made the right choice... I know because it felt like hell and doing the right thing never feels as good as it ought to.