Even a Rock Needs a Rock

KimR5413

There were very few times that J needed to be out and get away from the stress of what was going on. One of the first times was a while back when we were hosting the ALS run. We were doing that AND dealing with chemo. I could see J stressing and starting to spin because he needed to take care of me and was in charge of this run. I pulled him aside and reminded him that all the ladies and T were there. There was nothing I was going to need that wouldn’t be provided. I was good and he was good to go do what he needed to. I promised I would ask for help and would sit as much as possible to conserve energy. I could visibly see the stress drain from his face, replaced with relief. He smiled. I asked him to check in once in a while during the day to say hello, but to go do his thing. Really! I would be okay! He hugged me, kissed me, and off he went.

Another time was much more amusing. I had been at work all day when I got a call. A couple of the boys from the club had taken J out to the Irish pub. In all reality, I am pretty certain he had coordinated the whole thing. Well, sometimes, when you just go out to have one or two, you get side-tracked by telling stories. Two becomes three, three becomes four, and then there are cigars, and then you lose count. By the time J starts smoking cigars, if it’s not at the very first part of the evening, there will be many, many more drinks. When cigars come out, the stories are in HIGH TALE mode and he has transitioned from beer to whiskey or scotch.

The tells that J has been drinking: First, his head-turns become overly dramatic. If someone says his name, his head snaps and he looks for them. Someone starts talking, he can’t just look over there, the head has to snap to the side and then he can listen. It’s quite amusing.

The next tell is the hip sway. He stands and tells stories, but the hips are no longer stationary. They swing from side to side, or on real long nights, in circles. I believe it to be a balancing act so that he does not fall over. Some people’s knees start giving out; for J, it’s his hips.

From what I was told, they cut out of work early and met up around lunch for tacos or something. Remember, Irish pub. They had a beer or two, but then someone thought a cigar sounded good - I believe that someone to be J! That was around 2 p.m. They also switched to old fashioneds, because what could be better than a nice old fashioned with your stogie? Another thing that might be a tell is that J drinks a little faster with each new drink. I have no idea how many he had, but I know it was more than his limit.

Once the guys collected him and had him sign his tab, the others helped him into my car. This is where the amusement really started for me. I was starving, so we were going to dinner. I was not really ASKING what J wanted to do. He was still babbling at me about the day and what led to what had put him in this state. As if I cared! It was all just amusing!

We went about 15 blocks south to an old Denver staple called the Cherry Cricket. It’s an old burger joint that’s been there since about 1945. It’s not a fancy place, so it really doesn’t matter what you’re wearing, which is good since he looked like a biker and I was in my corporate clothes. The ironic part is that it is right in the middle of Cherry Creek, known for high fashion, expensive hotels, art galleries, upscale shopping, and great dining.

It wasn’t busy yet, but I was certain the dinner rush was about to start. We’d parked in the back, and while making our way to the front to find a hostess, I lost J. I didn’t realize I’d lost him, but I had. The hostess was talking to another worker about how to set up for 24 people and where she wanted them to be. It was essentially in the middle of the dining room. Smack dab in the middle; where all the open tables were. All open except for one. That ONE, where some guy had plopped down. Now the junior hostess was stressing out, because how was she going to move the guy? Restaurants don’t ask people to move! As they started to discuss their strategy for getting rid of the drunk guy at table 12, I laughed and said, “Just tell him to move.” 

They both looked at me as if I just said “Go over there and slap him across the face.” 

Again, I laughed. “He’s mine,” I told them. “I lost him on the way in and he’s been out all day. He’s fine. You can ask him to move. I came up to grab a table from you.” 

The look of relief was 100% visible. “Are you sure?” they asked. 

“Yup, just give us a booth somewhere so we can grab a burger.”

With that, we were taken to a booth in the same dining area, but out of the way of the incoming “big top.” Our booth was also probably from 1945. As we sat down, we both looked like 10-year-olds at the big-kid table. When the server came, J ordered an old fashioned. WHAT?? I thought, are you nuts! You can not even see straight now. Then again, he’s a grown man. So, they brought his old fashioned and my iced tea. In part of that babbling on the way over was a rundown of what they had eaten. It was essentially a list of half the menu. I didn’t think he was going to eat, and judging by the indigestion, thought he didn’t need to. I was very anxious about seeing all of it on the floor next to the booth.

J and I both ate our burgers and were on our way. I will spare you the number of times I honestly thought I would end up seeing that burger on the floor. We were back in the car and only needed to travel about 15 blocks north. As we were driving, J was “helping” me by giving me directions. “Turn right, here,” he said. “Make a left at the light,” he said. “Don’t forget to stop at the stop sign over there,” he instructed.

Wow! So glad he was there! How ever was I going to make it home without him? Mind you, we have been living in Denver almost 20 years at this point and Cherry Creek was a semi-regular visit. I did have to draw the line, though, when he told me to “turn on your blinker.” I had to remind him that I had been driving for over 30 years! I’m quite sure the raised eyebrow death stare was also just as informative. To that he said, “Oh, I’ll just sit over here and shut up then.” 

“Don’t threaten me!” I said through an excessively big smile.

We made it home without much incident. The next morning, J thanked me for not being mad at him. I laughed and gave him ibuprofen. Just looking at him made my head hurt. 

“Why would I be mad?” I asked. He said that he was supposed to be my rock and he got drunk. “Oh, babe!! You don’t have to be my rock ALL the time. You forget, I’m a rock too,” I said. “Sometimes you might need to let off some steam and fall apart a little bit. That was last night. You were safe. You were picked up, taken out, picked up, and taken to dinner. While you enjoyed yourself and had a little fun, you also just let go and let us all take care of you,” I reminded him. 

Sometimes that’s exactly what you need. When you are a caregiver to someone sick, it is particularly important that you have some time for you. This will help you avoid burnout, depression, and anxiety. Ultimately, taking time for yourself allows you to provide better care for that loved one.

Lesson: Self-care is not just a catch-phrase, it’s clinically proven to help!

If you like what you read here, please leave me a note. I am hoping to help people who are in this boat or supporting someone. I will keep posting if this has added value to you. Thanks!