In order to accommodate for Dave not being able to take the kids to school, I had to adjust my schedule so I worked 9am until 2pm, and through my days off to make up for lost time. That way I could take the kids to school and pick them up - both of which I enjoy, just not when I also have to work.
So my days were as follows: 5:30am wake-up, walk the dogs, get myself ready for work and kids ready for school, pack three lunches, take kids 20 minutes to school, drive 30 minutes to bus stop, 15 minutes to airport, work, hour long commute, drive back to kids' school, get home, breathe for a minute, pick up Grandma who flew in for her son, drive 30 minutes out to visit Dave for an hour, drive back to drop off Grandma, go home, get kids ready for bed, crash at 9pm. This went on for about five days.
A week ago today I received a phone call from Dave at 5:45 am, saying he needed to check into a rehab facility asap. We later learned that he had fallen in his apartment prior to calling me, and his doctor thinks a seizure caused the fall. The seizure was due to the amount of alcohol he had consumed, and had he kept drinking instead of calling me he probably would have died.
He was checked in that afternoon and we were ushered into a room to say goodbye to him. Through tears, intense shakes, and fear, Dave hugged and kissed the kids, vowing to beat his alcoholism. On our way home Brandon kept commenting that he didn't like to see him that way, so upset and sick.
I wanted to scream, to pull over to the side of the road and break down. Our lives were once again dumped upside down and I was beyond angry. The kids would be starting school on Monday which meant I had no one to care for them after school until I got home. No one would be there for them on the weekend, and I had very little time off available to use for work. I. Was. Fucked. And that was just how I felt. The kids had once again been let down, another promise of sobriety severly broken. Forget the issues I faced with childcare, their dad was in a hospital and they had no idea what would be happening with him. My heart cried for them...
Fortunately Josh saved us and watched the kids all three of his days off - without hesitation he offered to watch them for me, even though his time with his own daughter was already limited. I hope he knows the immense gratitude I feel for how selflessly he stepped up to the plate to help me out.
Our first visit to the facility was just me and the kids on Sunday, as Dave's mom had not yet arrived in Denver (We asked her to come to be with him in the days following his release - because I had to work I couldn't be with him. She was able to come early.). His speech was extremely slurry, as he was drugged up to facilitate the withdrawal symptoms. He was shaky and seemed to be completely out of it, but our conversation showed that he was coherent.
The next day the three of us drove out again, only to find him wheelchair-bound and in what seemed like a comatose state. When they wheeled him into the room my heart sank for the sake of the kids- we had hoped to see some sort of improvement, but instead he had deteriorated.
There was a little silence at first, the kids didn't quite know what to do with this man who had recently been playing with them like he had all the energy in the world. And here he was, his eyes hardly open, his speech so slurred he was difficult to understand, and he was unable to move his legs. This was not the Dad we had hoped to see.
We were able to find a little humor in his situation, not to make fun of what was going on, but to reassure the kids that while he was not the same on the outside, he could still connect with them from his inside. He himself found humor in situations he found himself in, and it was heartwarming to hear his stories of the excellent treatment he was receiving from the staff and the other patients.
...More to come...