Sunday, November 18, 2007

Living With Addiction ~ Part III



I gave you a hint of life living with an addict. My ex was had a pain pill addiction that I lived with for 7 yrs.

If you've not read part one & two, please do so so that you can possibly understand part three.


The beginning of September of 03, three months after we got married the proverbial bottom fell out of the floor of my life...



I came home from work to find our Cocker Spaniel waiting for me on our recliner slowly wagging her tail instead of jumping up and down at the door like normal. I walked into our bedroom, he was lying on the bed, blood oozing from the right side of his stomach, a rifle laying to his left.



He had shot himself.. The sheriff arrived first, a young tiny woman, gun drawn to make sure someone didn't shoot her. Then the paramedics and fire dept. show up. As my girlfriend pulls up a helicopter lands in the middle of our small street.







I felt as if I was in the middle of a bad dream.
They placed crime scene tape around my bedroom door, loaded him in the helicopter, Shadow was becoming more animated and my Lab, Noel had yet to come out of her crate but not barking at the chaos in our house. The helicopter was taking off, I don't think I could have heard a barking dog if it was next to me.




I was no longer in charge of my life. I was taken to a police car and questioned for about 30 minutes about my ex. Why would he do this, was he suicidal, has he ever done things like this before? I just wanted to run back in the house and be with my dogs and cats. I wanted to be left alone.



A big spot of my bed was covered in blood, my friends didn't want me to spend the night there, I didn't want not to. No one gave me a choice in the matter. They would take me to the hospital to see how my ex was then to their house.



At this point I was too mentally exhausted to argue. I was now a marionette, pull my strings, I'll dance for you.



My mom was on her way from Phoenix, she had been called or called while this was happening. I don't remember if I spoke with her or not. She would be arriving in the morning.



By the time we arrived at the ICU it had been 5 hours since all this began and he was out of surgery, he would live. I don't remember if I was upset, confused, mad or all of the above. The minute he saw us he began moaning in pain. We didn't stay long. Take me home..



To Be Continued..



Photo courtsey of Deviantart

3 comments:

Lysa Napolitano said...

Originally posted on Nov. 14, 2007 with the following comments:

Jack Boardman said...
Wow, Lysa, I'm at a loss for words on this series. I have experienced the addiction to alcohol with my late mother (she was dry the last ten years of her life), but nothing of the magnitude you describe. I can imagine a little based on my experience, but...
I sensed strength through hardship in you, but had no idea why, now I have some insight.
Jack

November 15, 2007 6:18 PM


Lysa Napolitano said...
Jack, I'm amazed you sensed that. I guess being of the same cloth we had a connection? I've sat through alcohol addiction stories that curled my hair, as bad as the one I'm telling now, if not worse. Thank you so much for your sweet words.

Sarah Cooper said...

OMG, Lysa. I can't imagine coming home to that. Even with the things he'd done to hurt himself up to that point couldn't have prepared you. What an incredible trauma ...

Lysa Napolitano said...

You're right, nothing had prepared me for this... nothing.