PARIS

What can I say about Paris, Bob and I were thrilled to be going. I had booked first class seats on the Chunned from London to Paris. The three of us were excited, Marisa was being her moody self.

Once we got our seats in the first class coach we were excited about our trip under the English Channel to get to Paris. That was a remarkable experience especially for Matt. He was loving this trip, Marisa was just plain bored. She didn't enjoy the lunch that was served to begin with. Hell what was not to enjoy? We were served lunch with fine china, silver and table linens. She "Wasn't Hungry" again.

I will never understand how stupid I was to believe that Marisa would even begin to actually forgive her Dad for his relapse back into drinking.
I guess Matt and I were already sort of over the shock of it, and more than willing to try and regain our once extremely happy home life.
I failed to take into consideration that Marisa did not have much to get back to. She rarely came over and she was getting just what she wanted. Us to get her and her overweight suitcases back to the States.

I started to get that little knot in the pit of my stomach. Bob and his daughter, Oil and Water. The tension was mounting between them.

The Chunnel trip was over and now we had to get a taxi to our hotel. I booked two connecting rooms at the "Inter Continental Hotel". The location was perfect. Near the Louve to begin with and all the places we wanted to see.
Bob had not been back to France since he was studing there in collage. He was excited to go exploring.

But first we needed to get our Rooms. If you have ever been to France you know that the experience can be very bad. Our connecting rooms were not, connecting, and Bob really started to loose it. He did not want the kids down the hall from us and we had to argue with the check in clerk to get our pre-booked rooms.
Tempers were starting to fray and just when I thought Bob was going to really loose it, a miricle happened. Sitting in the lobby of the Hotel was a very good friend of his from AA and her mother.

I don't think I was ever happier to see anyone from the program as I was to see her that day. We went over and talked to her for a while and she told us where there was a meeting near the Hotel. Of course Bob had no intention of attending a meeting while on this trip. He didn't tell her that but I'm sure she knew by his lack of enthusiasm.
Before we went up to our rooms, she made sure that she let us know what room she was in, just in case Bob needed her for "anything to do with his program>"
She had heard him share about how devastated I was and his family was by his slip.
He had lost his fourteen years of not drinking and we were all still numb with fear and disbelief.

After unpacking Bob and I decided to let the two kids explore on their own. He needed to chill out from the bad vibes he was getting, and Marisa just wanted to avoid him at all costs.

I am grateful for those few hours. It was romantic and I was really happy. All seemed to be forgotten, almost like we were heading into a second honeymoon so to speak.
We walked all over town, went and had the most amazing pastries and coffee and window shopped. Just looking and not shopping was totally fun.
We went back to our Hotel to get ready for our first dinner in Paris.

Matt and Marisa had explored Paris their way. I think they went to "Tuillery" gardens. There was a carnival and they had fun together. They rarely spend any time alone ever, so this was really a good thing for them to bond.
Matt of course was as excited about the programs on French TV as he was with any of the historical monuments.
TV over in France is nothing like he had ever seen. We just let him watch whatever.
It was four in the afternoon, how bad could it be? Marisa was appalled that we would let him watch it.
She seemed to be uptight about it. Hell, our philosophy was, when in Rome. Matt was having a "Real" French experience. I saw no harm in that. After all, it is the culture.

We found a very nice restaurant that we could walk to for dinner, so we all dressed nicely and walked over and we were not disappointed.
I can still see the quaint two story restaurant in my mind. We all of course visited the second story restrooms not only because we needed to, but because it was a perfect chance to explore the place.

I don't remember dinner being tense, but looking back at the walk home, I should have sensed trouble was brewing.

When we got back to the Hotel, Matt and Marisa went into their room and we went to ours. Even though they were connected we didn't all hang out. Matt came in for a while to see what we were doing and then went back to his room to watch TV with his sister.
Bob and I were just really getting over our jet lag and I was so happy to just call it a day. I got under the covers and closed my eyes, Bob read his book.
There was nothing in the air that night that could have prepared me for what lay ahead.

I was abruptly awakened at nine am the next moring, by a very angry Bob. He was yelling at me to get up because he didn't bring us all the way to Europe to sleep the day away.

That was the first sign that we were really in deep emotional trouble. I was stunned, first of all in all the years that I knew him, he was the one who never liked to get up early and nine am isn't exactly wasting the day. I asked him what the hell was wrong.

It was then that he went to the mini bar, picked up two mini bottles of Vodka and started waving them at me, threatening to drink them. I guess we were loud enough that Marisa came in to the room and asked us what the hell was going on.
By this time, I was more than angry.
I told her that her father was threatening to take a drink.

In our world that was the equivalent of suiside. It was not an idle threat. It sent terror into every pour of my body. It must have affected Marisa the same way.

She wasn't preparred for his totally uncalled for reaction. He started to yell at her. I can't really remember what was going on. I wasn't even fully awake when it all started.

All I know is that before things could get worked out, Marisa started screaming at him at the top of her lungs.

She was telling him how much she hated him and that he was just a "sick alcoholic"
She then threatened to jump off the balconey and kill herself.

By this time Matt was in the room. We had never had a "Family" meltdown ever.
First of all I think we were all stunned by the words comming out of both of them.
It was pretty apparent to me, just how much resentment each of them had for each other.

I had to step in and do something to calm them both down. I begged Bob to calm down and call his friend at the hotel and to make a call to his sponsor back in LA.

He actually did both. By the time I got to see how Marisa was doing she informed me that she was in the process of booking a flight out of Paris for the Three of us.

The three of Us? I asked her what she was doing? Did she know that if we left Bob in Paris, we would never see him alive again? It was a death sentence for him.
The one thing I did know about him to the core of my soul was that when he calmed down he would be more than remorsefull.

We decided that I would just go to the Louve with Matt and her father so that she could calm down and perhaps we could just get over it.
That's what I always tried to do. Get over it.
Marisa was a different story. She wasn't used to walking around on egg-shells to calm him down, she didn't want anything to do with the situation.
Matt and I took Bob to the Museum. Of course I look back at this with a bit of humor.
Bob was so far gone at this point, there was no calming him down. He was pacing around the court yard of the Louve smoking and Matt was just taking pictures of him lost in the angry thoughts of his head.
Years later Matt and I would remember with humor how we had an amazing real French Experience and laugh.
Bob always told us about this French man in AA who would go to meetings and tell everyone how "He hated his life and how he hated AA and all of "You" as he referred to people in meetings.

Well, here we were in Paris, his father and sister were behaving just like the "Comedy Improv" skits that Bob would perform for Matt. It was more than surreal.

I'm sure that Bob never remembered one thing about the "Louve" he was busy talking to himself and chain smoking.
I was busy wondering how I was going to get out of Paris without Bob picking up a drink. He was on a terrible "Dry Drunk". The fight with his daughter almost sealed the deal.

That's the first thing he always did before picking up that first drink. Start a big fight. The only thing I was grateful for was that he was more angry at his daughter than me and I was able to try and calm him down.

When we got back to the Hotel Marisa told me to pack because the three of us had a flight back to England.

I was stunned. I couldn't imagine how cruel that would have been. I told her she better rethink her plans, because if she went ahead with her plan, she would never see him again.
I asked her to reconsider and calm down. We were supposed to leave for Spain the next morning. I told her we either all go to Spain or we all go back home but we were not leaving her dad behind.

She looked at me and said the trip was over, she wanted to go home.

I don't even remember if she booked the flights and a hotel room at the airport in England or if I did.
My only concern was to not let her father out of my sight for one minute. He never needed a friend more than he did at that moment. His sobriety was hanging by a thread.
That may sound so dramatic, but it wasn't. All he wanted to do was pick up a drink and die.

If you believe in a higher power than the rest of this story should not surprize you.

We arrived at Heathrow got a room and I immediatley went down to the front desk and asked if there was an AA meeting anyplace near by.
They could not have been kinder to me. Not only did they tell us where there was a meeting, they booked us a car to get there.

I was so grateful that Bob was even willing at this point. Matt and Marisa were in a room by themselves all the better at this point.
I went to their room and explained to Matt and Marisa that I had to take their dad to a meeting and that they should just get anything they wanted from room service or whatever. I had no idea how long we would be gone.

They were both happy that there would be no more drama that day.

We left the hotel and went to seek help because I don't think in many years Bob had ever needed help more than he did at that moment.
He told me he just didn't know how he had managed to make it that far and he told me he did not think he could make it home without a drink.
I was very kind to him and I told him to just do it a minute at a time like they say in those meetings. He said he couldn't even promise me that but he was willing to get in the car and be driven to a meeting out in the middle of nowhere.
We were both desperate for a miricle.

Tonight I write with only healing on my mind

As my beloved brother Mark once said and I quote, "Family, who needs it"? At the time he murmured those now etched words into my mind, he had probably had enough of the drama that he was being pulled into by our beloved Bob in his active addiction phase.
Although I seemed to be the only one foolish enough to actually believe that Bob would achieve long term sobriety again, I never did loose hope, Mark on the other hand was much more realistic and quite frankly was done participating in uncomfortable family holiday dinners with so much tension in the air. Who can blame him? If given a chance, neither Bob or myself would have wanted the drama either.

As I look back and take that painful walk down memory lane I am reminded by the lyrics of one of my favorite "Counting Crows" songs, that the price of a memory is the memory of the sorrow that it brings.

So I started my last ten days. I have the once in a lifetime opportunity to wipe the slate clean of a past life filled with so many moments of ups and downs that have transpired these past several years in my world.

I am facing one of the cross roads of a life that one must make and pray that the gamble will pay off. I can no longer stay in my home of 21 years because of the circumstances of Bob's sudden death and as my Mother in Law made sure to remind me, that Bob did not provide for me as my "Father" did for her. I am going to lease our home out hopefully for several years, with the hope that I will be able to save it for my son. I thank god for the fact that Saul did include me in a Trust, everyday.
Had it not been for that, I would have been forced out of my home two years ago.
The past two years have given me the time to start to heal. There is a post traumatic trigger ever present replaying the final moments of Bob's life here every time I drive down the PCH past Rambla Vista. I hope that time will ease that memory. "Pick me up Steph, please pick me up", Bob's final words are branded in my brain, unfortunatley along with his once beautiful face.
There really is no telling when the grief will end,if ever.

Last week my son and I had to go through every article of clothing, books, personal items and other things that he had at home for his entire life left "Home" for all these years. We also started to watch marked and unmarked video tapes so that we can copy them to DVD's to preserve them.
It was an un-explainable experience. So gut wrenching that I could not bear to ask him to go thru the remaining things we have stored here of his father's. For the second time, I had to do it. I couldn't stop myself from putting a shirt to my face, hoping to catch just a slight scent of Bob. A few times I actually convinced myself that I could smell him here with me again. Wishful thinking or delusion. There really is not much difference at this point.


I unexplainably broke out into a sweat while watching the tapes, got sick to my stomach and had to go and throw up. At first I thought I ate something bad at dinner, but as I leaned over the toilet bowl, nothing came up. I was simply involuntarily taken over by years of emotion. Bottled up, repressed or simply forgotten memories in a flash forward synopsises of the past 20 years of my life.

Unfortunately the first home video we watched just happened to be the beginning of the end of the good times. I looked at the stress on my face, saw the pain in my eyes and actually did a sense memory of how miserable our lives had become. Each day was hanging with the dark cloud of another relapse looming in the near future.

I was trying my best to keep my family together, to preserve what was once a family that was the envy of an entire community. "The Picks" the happy three-some, out and about town, going to the market, the movies, dinner, karate or whatever.
I had to leave the room during that video and run to the bathroom.

The next tape was just by a random selection two weeks before the birth of my son.
My life at that time was like a fairy tale. Two people talking to their unborn son, telling him it was OK to be born any moment now.
We were so funny.

Then the next part was Matt being held by his sister and his grandfather. It was like being all together again. We were all so new to the home video filming that we were all so self conscious of the camera. Funny stuff, looking at our teeth, our chins, especially me because I had gained so much weight. Looking at the sweet child that Marisa once was and looking at myself kissing her head. Realizing that I have lost so much more than I can bear to think about. Everything that mattered to me back then, has been ripped from my world. It has nothing to do with money, but with family.

But the unexpected knife through my gut was Bob doing his comedy improv stuff to the camera,He had just started acting at the Lee Strasbourg's School and any chance he had to be in front of a camera was a golden moment for him. Matt and I had not laughed so hard for over two years now. We laughed so hard until it hit us.
Those days are gone forever, never to be given back, ripped from our lives leaving the hole as big as a crater from space. We both started to cry.

Maybe that is what we needed to shake us out of this just pretending that things will get back to normal someday, hopefully sooner than later. "Where have I been for two Years? Matt whispered. I couldn't explain survival or grief or the road it takes you down.
There will never be another moment listening to Saul, tell a story that happened to him a few days ago, or Bob at one of the happiest moments in his life, filled with unadulterated joy of having his two children with him or Mark so relaxed and happy to see the Baby.
The only uncomfortable moment was watching Bob ever so mindful to make sure that Marisa was not the least bit jealous of our new addition. You could see how hard he tried. It was the motto around our house, never make her feel less important that Matt. We did our best, right up to the end.

Those memories you get walking down memory lane come at a price. Both Matt and I have Saul's funny story etched in our brain, Bob's totally hysterical, rather risque comedy bit, that really rivals anything that John Belushi could have come up with. Just off the top of that brilliant mind of his. It still lingers as I write this.
Oh how I loved that man. That kind, loving handsome, brilliant man who came back for a period of almost twelve years, was talking to us and making Matt laugh like only he could do. The laugh that would make Matt run for his inhaler was present again and he did get the inhaler. The Bob that no one outside of the three of us really got to experience. A relaxed Bob not feeling guilty or remorseful about anything. Just happy to be sober and alive.

Those were the best days of our lives.

As Matt and I stayed up well into the morning talking again about life and death and his feelings and perhaps his fear of what will happen someday when I am no longer here, I reminded myself and him that life goes in cycles and he, much like I am doing now, will have to dig down, really deep and keep it together for the sake of his children, because their emotional stability will depend on how well he will be able to cope with a loss, get through the pain, but just keep going for their sake. It is the cycle of life. When you think you can't take any more, that's when your children will need you the most to help them try to cope with their loss also.

I need to remind myself of that on a regular basis when I feel abandoned by my once beloved family because they chose not deal with me talking to them about what was happening to me in the process finalizing my divorce in the Probate system under the direction of my step daughter. Gone without a word, just vanished into thin air, like I don't exist and perhaps listening to me, reminded them too much of their own thoughts and demons. I will never know because silence is golden to some people.

I wish them all well and I hope that I never treat anyone so heartless in their time of grieving and despair. Because much like I had to do with Bob, I have to forgive two of the three because I know it was not intended to wound me, but to protect themselves from the mirror I seem to hold up to all. It is a tragic flaw of mine. Not everyone thinks like I do. So militant and times and so boldly honest almost without thinking of the effect it has on others. I just say what's on my mind, and let the chips fall where they may.
Mine fell on the same table Bob's did, a family that would rather run than fight. Too civilized to speak what was on their minds, just ignore the problem and in time it will just go away I guess. It drove him crazy talking for hours about stuff, so frustrated by the lack of communication.

So be careful what you ask for is a great mantra. I leave a void in the family voluntarily and hold my head up high. Because in spite of everything no one can ever say that I did not defend Bob right up until the bitter end of our divorce two years after his death, because anything he did to hurt anyone he at least was sorry for his behavior and accepted the consequences. I hope we all learn that lesson from him.
Maybe that is his final legacy. Taking a hard look at ourselves in a mirror when only we are looking back at ourselves. You can't fool yourself for too long, it comes back to haunt you. I never abandoned him and had he been the Bob I married and not the other Bob, things would have turned out much different.

I went to an interesting event several months ago, featuring a world famous radio clairivoent and two different people described Saul, Bob and my real birth mother to me in detail. I was simply stunned into tears. I never knew my mother and at first I thought the man was talking about the woman who I called my mother, not my birth mother, that was until he told me that I look just like her. I knew this man was the real deal.
Among the most healing thing that happened that day was that two times from two different people, the first thing that was said to me was that someone keeps saying that they are sorry, so sorry. I know it was Bob and you can stop asking me for my forgiveness Bernie, I was never mad at you.
The second thing I was asked was if I was writing something, I said I was writing the story of my life with Bob, I was told to keep writing. I will.

Dissapointments in the Air

As we planned our trip to Europe the tension between us seemed to subside for a while. This was going to be our first trip abroad together and I was really happy that Matt would have a chance to see England, France and Spain and a pretty early age.
At least early in my opinion. He was ten or eleven, I don't remember but I didn't get to see those countries until I was in my twenties.
I started doing a little research into inexpensive Hotels with American amenities. We needed things like a TV, air conditioning, and if possible connecting rooms.
I also was thrilled to be able to get first class seating on the Chunnel.

I was excited about taking a train underwater from England to Paris. It all seemed so thrilling. As the time came closer to going I had the chance to speak with his daughter several times. She seemed comfortable that we were coming, even though she hadn't wanted to ever travel with her father again.
She reminded us that we should pack light. One of the main reasons she wanted us to come and get her home was because it would have cost her so much to get all her stuff back home. I guess her luggage was way over the weight limit.
Looking back at it now, I can't believe her Mom would be so concerned about the cost of extra luggage.
We had to pay to have something else sent home before hand. It was always those little weird things that confused me. Her mom dressed to kill all the time, once she even spent ten thousand dollars on a dress, but when it came to spending $300 to ship a backpack home, that was too expensive, ask your Dad or Steph to do it.
Given the state of mind her dad was in, nothing was denied.

He was going to eat crow for a long time in order to redeem himself to me and the family.

Well the day arrived and the three of us were off to England. We flew Virgin Air and Matt was in heaven. I think he played the on board Nintendo came the entire trip without ever napping. Bob did remarkably well without a cigarette. I couldn't believe how well behaved he was. The plane ride went off without a glitch.

We arrived in London on a damp drizzly day. Never happier to be anywhere. We had a sense of adventure like never before. Even though I had been to England once before, I had never been to the Museums, the Tower of London or even Harrods for that matter.
His daughter had arranged for us to see Three plays while we were there and we had made dinner reservations at a couple of really expensive restaurants based on recommendations from my brother in law.

Every thing was planned to perfection except for one thing. No one was prepared for Jet Lag.
We arrived in the morning London time, got our hotel room, wandered around the city a little and then Matt and I just collapsed in one room. Bob waited anxiously for his daughter to join us. She didn't get to the hotel until around midnight I think.
By the time she did arrive not one of us had enough energy left to do anything but say hi, Bob's daughter had bought us all some really cool soccer jackets,I also got a great sweatshirt that said Oxford on it, really great gifts.. They were perfect because none of us had anything to really wear in the rain. We must have seemed ungrateful but we were all so tired. I went to my room and went right back to sleep her Dad finally crashed also. Full of high expectations for the following day, we all got a good nights sleep, finally.

We were clueless to how exhausted we would be. His daughter had been there for an entire semester so she was used to the time change and wanted to cram everything she was unable to do into a few short days. We had three plays to see. One every night.
We did the usual sight seeing during the day, but something was wrong. It wasn't blatantly obvious at first, but that same old tension between father and daughter started to raise it's ugly little head.
We went to the Museum of London like three little excited tourists. She was annoyed and left us there. Said that she had been there before and wanted to go shopping someplace. She would meet us later for the play and dinner. The first day that was just fine. The three of us were happy to be tourists. It was really hard to sit through the theater that night. I was dozing off during the play, which is pretty hard to do in a musical. Then we had a very late dinner and we had to wait because it was a really trendy place. The three of us really couldn't do all that. But we were all on our best behaviour because Bob didn't rock the boat with his temper. He did get upset because Matt was exhausted and starving and the wait seemed endless.
By the time the dinner arrived, it really wasn't anything all that special. Maybe for England, but certainly not by our LA standards. So day two ended up with stored up tension between the two of them.
The next day, we wanted to see the Tower of London, she didn't want to go, so we went without her. More shopping I guess. Another play and dinner again. Can't even remember what it was that's how Jet Lagged I was.
The next day we all went to Harrods for high tea. Now the tempers were starting to show a little. Matt wanted to know where the food was, because to tell you the truth, little cucumber sandwiches are not exactly ten year old boy food for lunch. He also hated tea. Instead of having a sense of humor about this, Bob's daughter took it personally, and after tea, she left us again, and we went downstairs to Harrods most amazing food court. I am so happy Matt was hungry or none of the three of us would have experienced it. It really is like being a kid in a candy store. Matt had the most delicious chicken for lunch and of course after that we just had to do some shopping at Harrods. We bought him the most beautiful Bear, all dressed up like a castle guard or maybe it was Paddington, but he walked out of Harrods with some really cool toys.
Now Matt was happy. We took a double decker bus back to our hotel and I will never forget the look on Matt's face when this beautiful blond girl got off the bus. We all just starred at her. She had the most beautiful skin. Matt said he could live in London if all the girls looked like that. We three were really having a wonderful time. What was his daughter doing, shopping.

We went to see "Tommy" on the fourth of July. It was in a very cool, small theater and it was in the afternoon, so I was awake. I had always loved the "Who" and I never dreamed I would be seeing "Tommy" in London. We walked around Carnaby street, bought some cool little things and got ready to leave the next day for Paris.

Looking back, I really do wish, that his daughter had just told us not to go on that trip. It was so obvious that we were not on a family vacation, we were simply getting her and her stuff back home and making sure that she got to eat at the expensive restaurants and see the plays that she hadn't been able to see or get to as a student. Bob was starting to feel used by her again. It wasn't subtle, she spent as little time as possible with us in London as she thought she could get away with. Her father was not stupid. All the little excuses that a young girl uses and thinks her parents will believe simply didn't fly with him. He was just tolerating her because he promised me that he would behave. It never occurred to me, that the one I should have been worried about was his daughter. He was trying really hard, and she really was just avoiding him as much as possible, but using his credit card to get whatever she needed. The only time she really perked up is when she took us to Neils Garden, I think it's called. She loved shopping there so she was happy that afternoon.

She was happy and he was smoking more. I as usual tried to be my cheerful self and not acknowledge the fact that I sensed trouble brewing. After all, the three of us were just now starting to get over our Jet Lag, I thought maybe we were all just tired. I could justify most anything back in those days. The little peace maker.

Well the little peace maker was about to get a serious wake up call.

Dejavu

I thought that once I got Bob on the medication he would simply calm down, but as usual. Bob's body never reacted to things the way I thought they would.

I don't know if it was the patch they put on his arm to calm him down or the trazadone, but something either set off his desire to just rip and run or he was coming out of his skin. Valium withdrawal was unpredictable.

I took him to another AA meeting the next night, but this time instead of being grateful to be there he came out angry. I was not in any way ready to deal with this. I must have said something to really make him mad and he opened the car door and jumped out. I know he just wanted to get drunk.

That's what he always did before getting drunk when I was around. Pick a fight about nothing and use it as an excuse to blame me for picking up a drink.
He was screaming at me calling me terrible names and I was just sobbing. I had no idea what to do but I did know what not to do. I did not just drive off and leave him alone like he wanted me to.

Now if you recall, I'm the first one to say that I am one hell of an enabler. I was not about to leave him wandering around alone on the Pacific Coast Highway. Maybe a saner person would have just let him do what he was going to do, but I never could do that. I followed him slowly and begged him to get back in the car. He finally got in and we drove home. Well we dodged a bullit that night, but it would not be the last time he would jump out of the car.
I called one of his friends from the program and begged him to come over and talk to Bob. Don't forget, I didn't want to ever deal with this insanity again, I couldn't do it. Plus I had just about gotten comfortable with the fact that the marriage was OVER. This was a terrible place for the two of us to be in.

Bob knew how miserable I was. Even though I was trying to help him, it was almost like he resented me for it or maybe he realized he should have never called me to let him come home. Because at that moment all he wanted to do was drink and now he couldn't. I was there watching him. I don't even remember if he had his car back home. The night he left for good he drove it into town and probably left it at the studio. He was taken to rehab in a limo. If I remember right, I think that's why I had to drive him. He must have felt like I was watching his every move and I was.

It seemed like an eternity but Dustyfinally got to the house and told me to leave and go spend some time with his wife at their house. I was so happy to get out of Bob's presence. This night I remember Matt stayed at their house. The reason I remember is poor Matt was so allergic to dogs, and they had a huge Great Dane who of course jumped on Matt's bed when he was sleeping. Dogs just love following Matt around, they love him Poor kid just what he didn't need a one hundred pound dog licking his face in the middle of the night.

It's amazing how those little things just stick out in a person's mind. I remember so clearly being at their house and his wife being so kind to Me and Matt. They had dinner for us and really tried to make us feel better. Matt of course didn't even want to take a drink from one of their glasses. He just didn't like being there.

It was so bitter sweet because we had been a model family in the community.
I had always been a bit judgemental of this woman because her husband was in and out of sobriety while Bob had been sober and I couldn't understand why she just didn't leave him, but here I was tyring to find a way to stay in a marriage myself, in spite of all the insanity that was going on.
Dusty spent several hours with Bob and calmed him down. He called me and said it was OK to come back home. I really didn't want to leave, but I had to.
Little did he know that Bob was going to hold that against me for a very long time. He was raised to, as he would put it "We don't wash our dirty laundry in public". In his mind I had committed a cardinal sin. I had shared our deepest darkest secret with someone else.
It was one of the reasons' I believe he had so much trouble with the twelve step programs. He wanted to hide all those demons and secrets, not really share them with the locals. Especially in Malibu, where people in this community just seemed to thrive on other people's misery.
Bob had now fallen from his pedestal. After years of being the man who flew Angel Flight missions, and built the local Karate Studio, he was now just another Alcoholic
who had no sobriety. A Newcomer. God how he hated that term. He was normally a very humble guy but that hit him where he lived. It took away all his self esteem and I guess his dignity. Something he had worked so hard to try and regain in those fourteen years of abstinence.

So the cat was out of the bag and now most of the people that we knew had now heard about Bob and my situation. Small towns are not the place to live when something this terrible happens. Word spread like wild fire.

After all those years of not going to any meetings here we both were back at AA and Al anon. God I hated Al anon so much that I would go to more open AA meetings than any non alcoholic I ever met. At least I felt hope there. I never understood why someone would go to Alanon meetings and complain about their lives, when I felt that all they had to do was leave a horrible relationship. I know, I was as addicted to Bob as he was to drinking, but I had given this marriage a time limit. I did not marry him "until death do we part", I only married him through Sobriety. Now I was totally conflicted.
I never dreamed that our son would beg us to not get a divorce. I never wanted to be one of those people who stay in a horrible marriage for the sake of the children, but that was exactly the path I was going on.

I simply did not have the courage to walk out at that time. I think I was scared of what would happen to all three of us. I kept trying to convince myself that it was the right thing to do by giving Bob another chance, after all, it was only one slip, and one little affair. How much did my son's emotional well being mean to me?
It meant everything. I would stay with Bob for the sake of our Son. He was more important to me than my own feelings about the betrayal. After all, I was a pretty good actress around the family, I knew if I had to I could just get through it somehow.

During Bob's stay in the Hospital I had started to make plans for Matt and I to go to England with his sister. We thought it would be really great for the three of us to go around England, France and Spain together. Well when Bob found out that he was supposed to pay for this trip and he wasn't invited along he went crazy.
Looking back I really couldn't blame him. We had never been to Europe together in all the years we were together, and now his daughter wanted me to leave her father home. I couldn't do it. I totally understood how he felt. I never used him for money, we were always a team before this. Now things were changing so rapidly neither one of us knew the rules of the relationship any longer.
I called his daughter and told her that if she didn't want her father to come along that Matt and I would not be going either. I gave her permission to tell me she didn't want to deal with him because she had stopped traveling with us several years before this and they just didn't get along as I have mentioned many times.
Well, I'm not really sure why she made the decision to let us all go. I do know that she needed us to help her get her extra luggage back home without having to pay the extra cost, but that couldn't have been the only reason, at least I hope not.
Any way the decision was made. The three us of would meet her in London.

As crazy as it seemed, at the time it was just that little ray of sunshine we needed. It gave us something to look forward to. Something positive. I started going to Therapy to get help for dealing with Bob cheating on me and his slip. Bob had started to get a little saner and was going to a lot of AA meetings and he even got an AA sponsor. I felt that I had made the right decision, I would try to put this behind us. We had a lot at stake and many many reasons to try and work it out.

The only question was, COULD I EVER REALLY FORGIVE HIM? Only time would tell. Now I was the one living One Day at a Time. How Ironic.

I get two phone calls

I will never forget the day the counselor called me for the last time.
He told me he had thrown Bob out of the Hospital and if he called or came over here that I should not let him in.

I was stunned. The first thought I had was for Bob's sobriety. I knew how he had always reacted when pushed up against a wall like that. The problem was twofold.

One, I didn't want Bob to go back out and get drunk, he almost didn't live through this hospitalization and he wasn't fully detoxed from the Valium yet.
Second, I knew that he had no money or credit cards on him. They were at home.

That could only mean one thing. Once again Bob was going to be my problem to deal with.
Sure enough, not more than ten minutes later Bob called and begged me not to hang up on him. something I did quite often rather than listen to him scream at me.
What he didn't know was that I had already been told what had happened and also told not to let him back in the house.
No matter how upset I was at what had happened during his slip, I could never turn him out, if I did, he would not come back alive is how I always looked at it.
In the past whenever Bob had left treatment before he was really sane and sober, it would be only a matter of hours or days sometimes before he would be right back where he started.

I had no idea what would happen. My only point of reference was the past. He had not picked up a drink in fourteen years and as far as I was concerned anything was possible.
I told Bob that I would not hang up the phone and I just listened to what had happened.

He was doing his laundry and his councilor started talking to him about something, can't really remember what, but I do recall Bob telling me that he told him to in his words, "Get the Fuck Away From Me."
At that point I guess the guy just said to himself Bob was hopeless and he didn't want to deal with him. So he excerpted what little power he had and threw him out. What compassion for a fellow addict who was still suffering. I guess a little power went to this guys head. He couldn't bear to listen to Bob telling him the truth about his bad attitude. You don't just disregard someone who didn't pick up a drink for fourteen years. Yes he had a slip, but it didn't erase what Bob knew about how to stay clean and sober. In his case he just said "Fuck It" and picked up the drink, knowing well in advance what would happen. That's the true insanity of this disease.

Bob had nothing but change in his pocket which he was using for the pay phone and his laundry. I'm not really sure why they didn't allow him to have his wallet on him or money at that time, but he had nothing, So he walked to a phone Boothe with his suitcase and called me. He was lucky he even had enough change on him to call me with.

I told him to get in a cab and come home. I never regretted doing that even though the next week would be hell on earth. He was in full blown psychosis from the Valium cold turkey withdrawal. Looking back he had one hell of a law suit against that hospital, they almost killed him out of sheer neglect. It's a miracle he survived the brutal withdrawal he was put through.

I was going to need a lot of help on this one and I had to cry out to his AA friends for help. He was going crazy to put it mildly. I thank God that I never had to go through a Valium withdrawal myself. I had been told so many years before that what a terrible thing it was by a patient in St. Johns hospital years before that. He did not even begin to describe the living hell Bob was about to go through.

When he finally arrived home he was really agitated, but who wouldn't be? It started out pretty OK and then started to get tense. Whatever medication they had given him that day to prevent him from going into seizure and probably to calm him down were starting to wear off.
He was talking and pacing like a caged animal. He was hot and then he was cold. He was really trying to get a handle on his emotions, but he was loosing the ability to have any part in the way he was behaving. His body was screaming out for his medications. I had no idea what I was supposed to do.

I asked him what he wanted to do. He asked me to take him to an AA meeting up near our house. I guess he thought maybe that would calm him down, and prove to me how serious he was about getting sober and making things right with us.

As I write this, for the life of me, I cannot remember where Matt was. He never really went to other kids houses much, but I think I sent him to our friends house who's husband was also in the program. I knew I would never want him to see his father like this so I'm sure he was somewhere other than here that night. I remember so many things to the detail and I can't even remember where my son was during all this, how weird. I do know that Bob came home before Matt got out of school that day, so I must have called one of his friends Mom's to help me out.

I dropped Bob off at the meeting but I did not go in with him. When it was over I picked him up. At first he was telling me that he had met a really nice man who had had a terrible accident on his last slip and he was raising his son all by himself. He was grateful that nothing that terrible had happened to him on this last slip. It was a very sad story and it always stuck in Bob's head. For years when he saw this man at other meetings he always would talk to him and then tell me how kind and
un-judgemental he had been that night.

But when we got home, his mood was starting to change. I tried to get him to eat but he was so agitated by the withdrawal that all he wanted to do was sleep on the floor. It was like he was crawling out of his skin. I felt helpless. The hospital just threw him out, didn't bother to give him any medication to take with him or anything. They treated him like a dog, just because the counselor had an ego problem and couldn't handle someone still detoxing. I had no idea what kind of medication he was being given. But I did know that he was being given anti convalescents and maybe something for his heart after they did the EKG on him.

That was one long night. Bob was never a great sleeper, but that night neither one of us slept. He was going crazy. The first thing in the morning I got him to our local doctor, the one who had given him all the pills in the first place.
To my surprise he laid a Hugh guilt trip of Bob, never once taking responsibility for getting him hooked in the first place. He did not help him but he referred us to another doctor in the same office who we happened to know quite well because he was also in AA. He was now specializing in Addiction recovery. I was lucky to just be able to have Bob see him immediately, He probably saved Bob from picking up a drink that day, because I know he was just hanging on by the skin of his teeth to what little sobriety he had. Actually it wasn't sobriety at all, he was being given a lot of stuff to take. He was just alcohol free.

The Doctor put him back on anti convalescents and gave him some Trazadone. It did help Bob somewhat, but what I didn't know at the time, was that he didn't respect this guy at all because he had been taking all kinds of medication and claiming to be sober. In those days, there was a real rift going on in AA about anti depressants and actually being sober. Half the people in the program were really against it and the other half felt you had to do what you had to do to not pick up that drink, Bob was one of the guys that felt you were not sober if you took any kind of anti depressants at that time. Bob was always judging others sobriety when he was clean and sober, funny how when he was taking all those pills for his bad back he didn't put himself in that category,and now when he should have been happy to have someone help him, he was commenting on this guys sobriety. Wow.

Guess he didn't see the irony in that. He just was crazy or in serious denial at the moment. It really didn't matter because in a few hours all hell was going to break loose again.

Bob and his Counselor

Bob was calling me everyday with the blow by blow daily accounts of just how terrible it was there.
His brother had found the place. It was famous because of Kurt Cobain having left there and then went home and killed himself.
They had an open door policy. Imagine giving someone that doesn't want to be locked up permission to come and go as they please, especially when all they want to do is get a drink or a drug of their choice. In my humble opinion, what kind of moron thinks that is going to work. Might and well just take their money and never let them in to stay. Same things.

For some reason, it gave Bob a legitimate reason to have a resentment. I agreed with him. What kind of program was it that lets the patients walk out when they want to. I met a woman who was there. An athlete who had been on a show on TV. She was given permission to get a pass to go to a party.

Neither Bob or myself had ever heard of that. In the fourteen years since he had been in a rehab, I guess things had really changed.
Recovery had become Big Business. Doctors were making a lot of money from the insurance companies. Actually it was hard to find an empty bed. Business was booming. Only problem was, it wasn't like the old days. It had become somewhat sheik to be in rehab. What a sick world.
When I first met Bob, AA was the last place in the world anyone wanted to go to, or admit they needed to go to. Now the program was littered with celebrities in every field.
I recently watched a TV show about recovery and AA. There are no sure methods for recovery. Over fifty percent of addicts relapse with or without a program. All those thirty day hospitalizations only helped line the pockets of the doctors. Not even they could figure out how to keep people from going back to the bottle or the drug of their choice.

I must say at the time I did think that Bob was right. They would find bottles of alcohol stashed in the bushes after someone "Went for a walk". It was simply unacceptable to him. He was there to save his life and people were drinking.
When he got into it with his counselor it was basically just a matter of time before the shit hit the fan between them.

They didn't like each other. Bob thought he was a punk who thought he knew it all, and his councilor thought Bob was a no it all with no sobriety.
A recipe for disaster was brewing in there.

His counselor would call me and complain about Bob. What did he expect me to do. I tried to be supportive of Bob, but I knew how he was. When he was mad, there was no reasoning with him. I tried to listen to him, but I was conditioned to think that the hospital staff would know what was best.
This time I was wrong and Bob was right. I just assumed that Bob was going through yet another horrible withdrawal. I knew from years past that Valium was the worst drug to get out of your system.
It has what is known as an "After Life". That means that it lodges into the bones and tissues and the withdrawal for Bob took almost a year. He would be crazy and then calm, hot then freezing, and he was still having occasional seizures. His eyes were dilated for weeks, he could not sleep which added to the strange behaviour. He was in drug withdrawal with severe sleep deprivation.
I got calls several times a week from his counselor. I told him that Bob had announced to me and the family that he was getting a divorce and there really was no reason to keep calling me.
I told him flat out to call Meagan.
That's when he told me she had been banned from the hospital.
I guess they figured it out soon enough that she was trying to bring him "Whatever".
I never did get the story straight.
All I know is that when I brought him a suitcase with some clothes for the month, not only did they go through all his stuff, but they went through my bag as well.
That never happened before and I'm not sure if it was because it was normal or because they banned Meagan.

Things in our marriage could not have been worse really, where I used to visit him everyday in the past now I had our son and his activities to put before the rehab visits. Actually without Bob knowing it, the best thing I could have done for him at the time was not visit him every day. I was too hurt and angry.
It did not do him or me any good to fight about what we could not change. I just backed away more than I ever had.

It truly was self preservation for me at the time. I had no support group what so ever. There were so many feelings in me that I couldn't even begin to understand what had happened.
I was really grateful for the two kids at the time. Even his daughter was really in my corner the entire time.

One Sunday she took me and Matt along with her other brother to the House of Blues gospel brunch. Bob was really upset. What the hell was he mad about? It was always like that with him. He would look for anything to turn it around on me.
He shacked up with a woman he met and he was upset that I went to the House of Blues with his children.
That was crazy. He was still blaming me for the kids knowing about her. He threw that in my face for years. Talk about misplaced anger.
I would not lie for him ever again. He broke the bond and as far as I was concerned it would never be the same and it really wasn't.

Life without Trust

As much as I wanted to be there for him this time, I could not forgive this other woman, to make matters worse, the Monday I went to visit him in the hospital I had to figure out in my own mind, what I was going to do.

I looked at his bedside table and there was a card from "Meagan". Talk about throwing salt on the wound, it hurt physically and my head was spinning. I couldn't storm out of the hospital, but I was a scorned wife, just like a scene from one of my beloved English novels. I was seething on the inside, but the male nurse asked me if I could get into the shower with him and help bathe him. What would anyone say? Of course. I loved this man and loath him at this very moment.

Nothing prepared me for this. I could handle the slip, looking back it was inevitable. But to leave me and our son for three days to be with some woman he met in a bar, well that was the last straw. Now I was the one who was supposed to nurse him back to health again. What a joke. It was moments like this, that I should have really taken a good look at the lack of support our family had. Of course, once Bob was back in the hospital, there was a collective sigh of relief on all fronts. But did anyone other than me and his kids bother to go visit him? NO!!
Imagine that? After fourteen years without a drink, he didn't deserve a visit from his brother, dad or his dad's wife. I was so busy dealing with my own issues, and so used to doing this all alone it never occured to me that this time really was different from any of the past episodes. He had a family, and a son who had never known his father like this. Why couldn't they be there for him or us this time? I will never know. I guess I had just assumed it was because of the fight he had had with his father that lead up to this moment. But I think it was just the same excuse. He didn't warrent a visit from them. Plain and simple.

It all seemed so natural at the time, but as the years have passed and life has revealed itself like an onion, I know to the core of my soul how much that hurt him.
Was he so terrible that he didn't deserve a visit? He was on his death bed, the first couple of days. He was not important enough for a visit. This was part of the root of his problem. He felt he was never respected, only tolerated and I guess the family really did just sit back and wait for this moment to happen. Well, when it did happen he once again felt the cold chill of rejection.

I wanted to run out of there and never look back myself, trust me. The fact that He had announced he wanted a divorce to his family, but didn't bother to inform me would have been enough to end it right then and there, but, he was sick and weak,not to mention alone, I guess I was supposed to take it and just be the dutiful wife once again to keep a vigil and keep the family informed of his progress. A role I had willingly accepted.

Talk about conflicted, I was more than confused. I had to talk to his brother, father, daughter, our son and really try to keep it together as best as I could.
If I had ever had the disease myself I would have drown myself in a bottle for sure. I really never experienced anything like this.
The betrayal warranted drastic measures, but he was on a 24 hour watch for his seizure's.
I couldn't just leave him alone, I stuck around as the most unhappy, unwilling spouse ever.

I refused to go to Daniel Freeman's counseling program for the family, I wanted to know what they thought they could possibly do to help this situation.

It would take a miracle for me to get over this final blow. Maybe it was my ego, but it didn't feel like ego. My heart was broken, along with our vows and my trust.

If you have ever loved and trusted someone you know how wonderful it is to never question what they are doing when they are not with you. It's sheer bliss. Trust will set you free. And free was how we had always felt with one another. There was never another man or woman I had thought, that could break our bond.

I had really believed that ours was a blessed union, God had answered Bob's prayers.
What happened? I keep asking myself.
Not only was I shocked, so was everyone who knew us. Bob had brought a strange woman into our lives. Without any sign the eye of the storm must have been what life was before this. Calm, but hell was about to break loose.
The best I could do at the time was count my blessings that he would be in the hospital for at least a month. I had some time to figure out what to do. I had no idea. I just needed my son to feel safe and OK.
It's like lying, you tell yourself and your family that everything will be OK, but the entire time you know it's a lie you can't figure out how to get out of.

The more he recovered, the less remorseful in the beginning he was. This only added to my anger. But I had not yet found the inner strength to do something openly about it.
One day his daughter called the pay phone and asked to speak to him. The person who answered the phone thought she said her name was Meagan. She called me and wanted to know who Meagan was. I told her. I saw no reason to keep it to myself. Bob was furious with me. Of course he was. He wanted me to lie for him to his daughter because he knew that she would tell her mom. That made him really angry with me.
I couldn't believe my ears. I was expected to lie for him. I felt he was lucky I was even speaking to him. There was no way I would do that for him. I told him he should have thought about the consequences before he hooked up with her, then I found out that she was coming to visit him.
He was having a little romance. I didn't even know how to react. It was a habit he had learned being a lawyer. Turn it around on the other guy. He was mad at Me? I was not going to take this sitting down.

My anger was festering under the surface. I have always felt free to tell the truth, but I always managed to be somewhat "wishy washy" up until this point. I had become a yes wife, never wanting to be right were I was now. Looking at the face of someone who had just blown fourteen years without a drink, and who had also broken our marriage vows.
On both fronts I was devastated, but I felt sorry for him relapsing, and all I wanted to do was leave him for cheating on me. But of course that emotion was still being kept inside, like a time bomb just ticking away. I wanted him to get better so that I could leave him when he was better. I couldn't bring myself to do anything before. He always had an expression. "You don't kick a man when he's down". Those words kept ringing in my ears. I had to wait.
On the outside I had learned how to hide my feelings from the family, always trying to be stoic, always trying to give him the benefit of a doubt.
It would take more than old behaviour to make myself believe some of the nice words that were coming out of my mouth.
I wanted to bury myself and cry forever. I couldn't. I had to help our son through this.
He had never known the insanity of the disease, only sobriety, all though at times it wasn't a peaceful time, at least his dad wasn't drinking.
I needed to help him understand what had just happened. His dad was a sick man, not a bad man.
I could not bring my rage into it, at least not at the moment.
Bob was really in very serious physical condition. The seizure's continued over the weeks. One night they rushed him up to the cardiac unit to monitor his heart with an EKG. He was not doing well those first couple of weeks.

The real problem was that the Doctor had taken him cold turkey off all the medication that he had been taking for the past couple of years. How could a hospital not realize that was putting his life in danger? They were punishing him for taking a drink and totally ignoring the real problem, He was in major Valium withdrawal and that was the cause of all the seizures and the heart problems.
Today if that happened I could sue the doctor and the hospital for the lack of medical attention Bob had been given.
This is the problem with any rehab program, no matter what they say there is a certain amount of guilt tripping attached to it.
Bob was made to start going to therapy as soon as he could. This is such a joke. His counselor had three years of sobriety from heroine, he had never had the amount of sobriety that Bob had and this guy was a typical example of power corrupts. He treated Bob like he had suddenly forgotten every thing he had ever learned in his fourteen years.
It the thing I had about AA. The new comer philosophy. Shut up and listen. I wouldn't listen to this guy either.
It only made me feel even more empathy for what Bob was going through. No one bothered to stop and think about what it must be like to walk a mile in his shoes and then have to listen to some young punk. I would never have done it either. This guy had no credibility. So what was three years in the scheme of things. He had no idea of the devastation that had happened in our lives. It all fell apart and the best they could do was focus on his being a "New Comer".

Nothing prepared me for this

I was thinking back about all the events that happened after that surgery and the rest of the "recovery" process from that. prepared

What choice does anyone with a physical ailment have. It simply cannot be ignored because the treatment involves medication.
There is so little one can do once this cycle begins.
I have known so many people who were clean and sober that have been put on pain killers when they go to get "Fixed" They get fixed alright, but it' more like getting a fix, as in the street lingo.

So what you may say and you are right. A life of Russian Roulette begins. Can they take the pain med without going off the deep end? There are no real answers many are fine and so many others are not fine. No one want to even begin to think about the numbers, but it is well known in AA that the odds are not in the addicts favor if they need to take meds. They are advised to have someone monitor the pills, but after a while it's up to the individual.

In my life my addict could simply not stay sober no matter how hard he tried.
After, Back surgery, there was knee surgery, then another knee surgery, then last but not least the one that finally took him out. Hemorrhoid surgery.
That all took place within two years.
I used to wonder if Bob was getting these surgeries to get the meds, that was except for his back surgery.
It was a revolving door of hospital stays and surgeries, all with the benefit of powerful meds.
Of course he had the "EXCUSE" he needed to use them and not give up his sobriety date. At this time he wasn't really going to AA meetings so no one was actually thinking like that.

One day the unthinkable happened at least unthinkable to me.

Bob went to the office, had an argument with his Dad and walk across the street to the drug store and bought himself a small airline size bottle of Vodka. His and our lives would never be the same from that moment on.

Later that evening we had plans to meet for a Volleyball game at Pepperdine. I talked to him and he was so different on the phone, he was angry, said he would not be coming and he would see us later.

Our son and I went to the game, and when we got home Bob was asleep on the sofa in our room. That was odd, because he was a notorious light sleeper, actually an insomniac.

The next day he slept until after three in the afternoon. I knew in my soul something was terribly wrong but I didn't dare think it was because he started to drink. But I knew it.

He got up and showered and got really dressed up to go out. Bob never went out at night without us, We had not had a fight, had not been fighting or anything like that. I took one look at him and I just knew what was going on. He had started drinking.

I didn't have a fight with him or anything. I told him years ago that if he chose to drink again, I would not be there to watch it again.
With tears streaming down my cheeks, I kissed him goodbye when he got ready to go. It was so surreal didn't think I had it in me to just watch him walk out the door to start a journey into hell. There was nothing I could do to stop him I had learned that from experience his life was his own to ruin. Plus he had not admitted that he had picked up that first drink yet, he didn't have the heart to tell me that the fourteen years without a sip was over. I guess I didn't want to push it because in my soul I wasn't sure if that promise I made to myself when we got married was going to hold up.

Could I really leave him for this. When I made that promise when we got married, I didn't realize I would have someone else to think about. Matt. Our son just adored his father, they had such a great bond and a wonderful relationship. I had to ask myself could I pull the plug on our lives. I simply need time to think, I was so stunned by what was happening.

Needless to say Bob did not come home that night. He did not call or anything. Now I knew for sure it was over. I was sick to my stomach.

The next day my brother in law phoned me. He told me that Bob was at the office with some of his AA friends. I said "What AA friends" He told me Megan and some guy whose name I have since forgotten.

I told him point blank, Bob had not been to an AA meeting in years and if he had I would have recognized the name. It was all a lie,
He also told me that Bob told him that we were getting a divorce.

I wasn't mad which was interesting to myself. I knew the Jekyll and Hyde personality of Bob when he drank. I simply told his brother that his entire story was a lie. Bob was fine two days ago, not this. It was then that my brother in law told me of the fight Bob had had with his dad. It all became so clear to me at least.
It was a Thursday night, and you may wonder how I could possibly remember that well, Bob didn't come home again the next night and on Friday morning my brother in law phoned me again.
He told me that Bob had called him and asked him for help After all he had fourteen years under his belt. I felt he could get past this, so did his brother, if we could just get him into a rehab center.

His brother made several calls that day and finally got him int Daniel Freeman Hospital, the same place that Curt Cobain had been before he took his life. I really didn't care where he went, I just knew that the odds of making it out alive were not good. Historically, a person who resume drinking after so many years of abstinence had a very good chance of dying.
His brother was in constant contact with Meagan that day, thinking that she would keep her word of getting him to the hospital.
Well, they had other plans for the day,
They rented a limo and spent the day going to a Meditation Center off of Sunset Blvd and they then went to Gladstones for dinner and more drinks. All on Bob's charge card of course.
Bob's brother and I were on needles and pins the entire day. Bob hadn't checked in and at times we didn't know where he was.
By early evening he finally showed up, sicker than a dog, to check himself in.
That was Friday night.
I went to see him on Monday, What I saw was unbelievable, he had lost fifteen pounds, had to have a 24hour nurse because he was having grand maul seizures. He was simply lucky to be alive.

If I was calm the night he left to go out,I was now devistated. I hadn't figured that he would spend three days with some woman, announce to his family that he was getting a divorce etc. What happened to our great family? How did this go from see you latter to I'm getting a divorce all without a fight or a hint. What we lost during those three days would never be regained.

TRUST
What had kept us together for all those years just flew out the window. I had excused all his behaviour before we were married, but this was a fatal blow to my heart and my trust. I always said that without Trust a couple has nothing.
That was how I felt. We had nothing left to hang on to. All was not forgiven this time. We were married, this was inexcusable to me. He would never had forgiven me for this type of behavior and that was the bottom line.

I felt my heart break, I really tried to be strong, for me, our son and even for him and his recovery, but I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, regardless of how the marriage turned out. I would never be the same after this. I had every reason to feel this way, the future would reveal itself one moment at a time from this day forward.

That was his disease in a nut shell. Put a drink in him and you never knew what you were going to get.
That was exactly why I did not want to go through a live like that with him again, but I did take all those years for granted. I believed his desire to stay sober was real, I still do, but I didn't really understand that for two years with all the medication, Bob wasn't really sober. That was hard to swallow.
All the mood swings should have given me a good look at what was happening, but I was to afraid to even go down that road. I simply preferred to ignore the signs and gamble on the fact that he hadn't picked up a drink yet.

I DIDN'T SEE IT COMING AND AT THE SAME TIME I SAW IT ALL.

Now What?

So the surgery was performed, but the only thing that it really helped was it stopped the pain that was shooting down his leg from his siatic nerve.
If you recall, I wrote once before, than even though our lives at this point seemed happy. We loved one another and adored our son, we didn't have financial problems like so many people, but we had Bob's monkey on his back to deal with.

This was the beginning of a series of Pain Management Specialists. Bob's surgeon couldn't help him any longer so he was referred to a Pain Management Specialists.

Well is anyone out there reading this has ever been in this situation, you know first hand that the Pain Management Doctors are in my opinion, just legal drug pushers. Bob was introduced to Oxcontin. Today we all know how addictive this drug is and addicts pay outrageous amounts of money to just get their hands on them. Who knows what the street value is, but it's a lot.

I should have known when a doctor tells you he has to write out a triple prescription for this medication because it's monitered by the government, this was no ordinary pain killer.
Bob was willing to do anything, he went into physical therepy as soon as possible, maybe even too soon, but he did it with his surgeons blessings. Living in Malibu we are limited to the small community resouces at our disposible.
He went to a local guy who by the way, was also an addict. He was way too aggressive in his approach because as a Black Belt, Bob was able to tolorate a lot of pain, what he didn't know was that he didn't need to get hurt to get better.
The therapist made his situation worse. Little did we know before he started that this guy had a serious problem with anger and hurting his patients and several of them were actually much worse after going to him, Bob was in the same boat.

So the doctor put him on Oxcontine and the real nightmare began. Oxcontine is a full blown narcotic. Well isn't that wonderful, an addict now on serious drugs.
At first there was not much difference in his moods, because he was in so much pain that he had been in a bad mood for so long, I almost started to think this was his normal personality.
What I know today, is that the cycle of needing more and more medication had already started. Bob knew it too.
He asked his doctor to take him off of it. It was too hard core a drug for him to justify being on it.
That's when he started his long cycle of Vicodine and Valium not to mention all the other medications that he took that I can't remember the names of.

The most important point of this is that, even Bob did not want to go back to being addicted to anything. He took himself off and the withdrawel wasn't that easy, but I was relieved that he noticed what was happening to him. I had no idea that the alternative pain medications were almost more incideous.

Talk to almost anyone who needs medical care for a surgery of whatever. They are given Vicodine. This one pain killer is more responsible for people going back out as they say in AA. Back to the bottle, which is exactly where Vicodine lead Bob. Back to the bottle.

One might ask how is that possible? Well, no matter if he took a drink or a pill, his mind was altered. End of subject. Dry Pill High vs a drink.

A New Journey

journey into my world: The Writer

Oops Hospitals can be deadly

So Bob had his much needed back surgery. The only obvious complications at the beginning, were that he was probably one of the worst nightmare patients a doctor or a nurse could ever want. Something just happened to him in a hospital room. Looking back it is oh so obvious why. He became that angry man. Complaining about everything, causing such commotion.

His dad actually had to come in and try to calm him down and apologise to the doctors. His neurosurgeon was also Bob's. His dad tried to make everything right and because they respected him so much, they bent over backwards to make Bob as comfortable as possible under the circumstances.
The lesson for me was:

YOU CAN'T GIVE AN ADDICT A MORPHINE DRIP THAT THEY ARE IN CONTROL OF, AND EXPECT THEM TO ACT NORMAL. Morphine is a heavy duty narcotic and just because he had a reason to take it, it didn't mean his state of mind was going to be good. It was far from it.

That is just my advice to the medical community. I had so little knowledge about what I was really dealing with at the time, I didn't get it.

I should have searched the back episodes of his life,stored in my mind for reasons to help explain to me, what was happening to him. Back then I didn't really see the connection. I was brainwashed into thinking he would be fine taking massive amounts of pain "Medication".
Just to jolt every one's memory, the last time Bob was given a morphine drip was after he came back from Tahiti the first time, and got a serious staff infection.
His "fiance"/madame/drug pusher, was sneaking him in bottles of Vodka to go along with his antibiotics and pain killers. So he was happy back then, he didn't care that they were about to amputate his leg because nothing was helping him, he felt wonderful, loved being high on it.
All that had to happen to wet his appetite again for drugs was just give him a little taste of morphine and every nerve cell in his body had a certain type of memory that actively cried out for more.
The problem was his tolerance was so large for anything he was given,because he had been taking massive doses of any type of medication he could get his hands on for years before he actually got and stayed sober.
The mind and body does not forget and he was right back where he left off.

It was the beginning of a terrible time in his life. Wanting to remain sober, but not really being sober. Just because your addict mind didn't actively seek the drugs,doesn't mean it won't alter your personality, just try ingesting them medically. The result is the same. A craving is set up that will not be satisfied, at least his appetite was not satisfied.

I still look back on these times and admire the strength he must have had, the courage to not go into full blown alcoholism back then. He was actively practicing what is known as "White Knuckle Sobriety" hanging on by a thread, that's how bad he wanted to stay off alcohol and beat his disease. My hat and my heart went out to him for his courage.
I never had to walk a mile in his shoes, but I can tell you this much. I wouldn't have made it. I'm not quite that strong.
Hell, just tell me I can't have a coke with dinner and just watch me order it. Imagine having such a terrible craving and knowing that if you give in to it, chances are, at least in his case, that you will end up in jail, a hospital or maybe even dead. That was the monkey on his back, day after day, year after year.

I admired him, I rooted for him, I didn't have the strength he possessed and I knew it. He went fourteen years without one drop of liquor passing through his lips. Without the help of AA. He did it just by living a great life. Those were the best years of his life, but his physical problems would be bringing that all to a close shortly.

The Writer

I have to say I was never so impressed with anyone as I was with him. If he set his mind to something he just did it.
How many people do you know that in a matter of years learn how to fly, get a black belt and write such a great script, that HBO loved it so much they actually stole his story.

Of course in this town people will argue that there are only five stories anyway, but the difference with this one was that Matt named the protagonist, and they were not smart enough to change the name. Oh it was a great story. So ahead of it's time as a matter of fact it is almost like reading the headlines in the paper today.

He would get up and drive to the office with his partner, come back and they would go to Karate and it seemed like he was really enjoying his life so completely. He had it all.
I was happy, our son was happy, I thought Bob was too. I actually enjoyed the company of his friend. We had a social life that I longed for.

During this time Bob even put together a Karate Studio for the community. He leased the space, I helped them get the mats, the rails the mirrors and within a month we had one of the greatest martial artists under one roof.
Both Bob and our son got trained by one of the most respected martial artists in the country. Bob Burbidge. He was tough. One of Chuck Norris's black belts, as a matter of fact when Bobby died I think he may have actually come to his funeral.
We all had a great time during those years, We even took my brother and his wife to Las Vegas to see Bob compete in a tournament being held there. During that competition he got his tooth chipped off. He turned and bowed off the Mat and put the tooth in my had as my brother stood there in amazement. Richard just started laughing, he could not relate to how strong Bob was. Not only was his tooth broken, I think his nose took quite a punch also. My brother loved that he got to be there for that and until this day still remembers it so clearly.
Bob was in heaven, he loved the adrenaline of it all. He was a real man's man. Tough to the core of his soul, but so sensitive at the same time.

Bobby was so tough, that I never left our son Matt alone in a class. I saw how hard on the kids he was. "I don't train Babies" is a phrase I will remember the rest of my days. He would have those poor kids in tears at times. So for five years I sat in a karate studio with our son three days a week. But it was so worth it because if you stuck it out with him, you would be respected by every martial artist around. So Matt and his dad both got their black belts from Bobby. Not an easy accomplishment. By the way I think I picked up a lot subliminally. I never walked around in fear. Hell, I had my own two personal body guards with me twenty four seven most days. I was living a happy care free life.

First Bob took his black belt test and boy did Burbidge put his students through hell to get a black belt. They had to test in front of 50 other Black Belts and they would grade every little movement. From the bend of you legs to the bend of your writs. After sitting there all those years I knew I could never do it. Little did I know that a year later my son would have to sit in front of those same 50 Black Belts. I was never more proud of them or as nervous for them as I was watching the two of them test for their belts. Unfortunately for Bob when he told his family, there really wasn't any pride in his achievement. His own dad just sort of said "Little Boys' Games".
It's funny how certain words just can cut like a knife. His dad probably didn't realize just how sensitive Bob was going to be to that statement. I wished he had just said "Congratulations" because it was right around that time that Bob started to have a major resentment toward his father, his partner and several other people.
Now I realize it was all fueled by the Valium and he was taking. In order to get through his training he had stared the Valium addiction full blown.

Once he had passed his test he started teaching a little, but spent the most of his time finishing the Script with his friend. They would drive down to Hollywood from Malibu at least three times a week and I noticed that Bob really started complaining about how bad his back was hurting him. The drive into town seemed to really be making him worse. His own Doctor told him to get a different car.
I wasn't surprised, as a matter of fact I had begged him to stop karate more than once. He had done so much damage to his already bad back during those five years of Karate, he needed back surgery really bad. The pain was shooting down his leg, he was tough but even he couldn't take that kind of pain without something. He put off the surgery and just started taking pain pills to go along with the valium. I really didn't feel concerned he had a terrible back problem, what was he supposed to do? Suffer just because he was an alcoholic? It's not humane. Our life was great. It was even better now that he actually had rented an office and went someplace to work on something he always wanted to do, Write.
It was a really well written script. Bob just had a gift for great dialog. His father even helped him to get it to influential people. That's how it ended up at HBO in the first place.

The problem was that it really doesn't matter how good a story is because as soon as some low level studio guy reads it, it's never going to be good enough. That's the cover your ass policy of studio hierarchy. I will never forget when it all ended.
Bob's story was about racism, and the Conservative Religious Right.
The studio guy loved it, but wanted to know if Bob could change it to an Indian Story.
No kidding, it's so sad it's funny. Imagine that. Right about then Bob just said "Fuck It". He never wrote or pitched another script to a studio again. He shelved his project but what he had learned and gained from that experience was priceless. If he ever was going to do anything in film it would be and INDI.

We saw the film a year later on TV. Bob, like so many others had simply been ripped off. That's life in show biz, dog eat dog. Bob had bigger problem looming in on his horizon to worry about that. He scheduled his back surgery.

Being Productive

I guess it was hard to think about all the pills because during this time Bob was quite productive. He was working on getting his black belt and writing a script with his karate friend and writing partner.

They spent a lot of time together and Bob used his friends hyper personality as an excuse for taking a lot of Valium, besides saying his back felt better with it. I wasn't worried because I did believe it would be ok as I mentioned. Bob needed something to do after his flying was abruptly ended.

Bob had been teaching aerobatic flying until one of his students crashed the plane into high tension wires. It was a miracle that they did not burn to death. His dream of flying and teaching had come to a halt, so did the days of being pill free.
When he flew he never even took an aspirin. Now that was all over. The incident was quite a blow to him. It wasn't his fault, but of course he had to be investigated to make sure he wasn't drinking or using drugs. I felt sorry for him. It seemed that in his life, whatever could go wrong did. This was one example of something he loved going sour on him.

The student pilot flew the plane ran right into the high tension wires. When they hit the wires the plane started to turn upside down, Bob had also taught EMT emergency maneuver training and as miraculous as it was, he managed to turn the plane right side up, before landing on the back of a pickup truck.
He flew out of a small airport in Santa Paula, California which had no control tower.
It is very popular with celebrities and pilots who just love the older planes.

When they hit the wires of course they snapped and tore off one of the wings. also the fuel tank was leaking fuel. It happened so fast Bob said. The pilot in control was sitting in front of the plain and Bob as the instructor was sitting behind him in a Super Decathlon. The student pilot froze on the controls as was not even thinking when it happened.

Bob kept telling him to relax and let go of the stick, let go of the stick. Finally seconds before they hit the student did let go and Bob was able to regain control of the stick. If he hadn't they would have both died. Bob had to kick the door open from the back seat, his student was just frozen with fear.

The man who owned the truck was not a very happy man. Instead of trying to help Bob and his student out of the plane he was screaming at them and threatening them. Meanwhile sparks are flying all around the fuel that was leaking. Bob got his student to safety and then ran back to get the parachutes out of the plane.

That's the kind of man he was, at times just fearless. He wasn't afraid of dying, ever. In fact there were times when I thought to myself he put himself in places and courted it. He was fearless because he at times was sick and tired of being an alcholic. Tired of having to fight the demon who was always lying in wait to creep up on him when he least expected it.

Bob was taken to the hospital for observation, he came out with a slight concussion.
He called me from the hospital, his first words were, "Don't Worry". Of course that set my heart pounding. Bob had never called me like that, I knew something had happened. I was grateful that all he suffered was a slight concussion. I had always had a fear of him flying those little planes upside down and doing dives and stuff like that. We did not tell his father what had happened. The story made the front page of the papers in Santa Paula, but their local news never hit the LA Times. We did tell his daughter and his brother I think, but Bob didn't want to worry his Dad.

I never flew in his decathlon with him, because I was terrified that once he got me in it he would just do one little loop or something. We had our son to think about, and I wasn't comfortable having two of us up there in one plane.
What would happen to Matt if we weren't around to be there for him?

The examination at the hospital proved that Bob was absolutely clean and sober, but he still had to pay $1,000 to the man who owned the company to help with his insurance to cover the plane, which was totaled and the damage to the truck.

After that incident, I begged Bob to not teach flying anymore he told me he would think about it, but he didn't want to appear like he was afraid to fly after that. It was a lesson well learned. He was a great pilot, but as a teacher, you never knew what the skills of the other pilot were. He had placed his life in a stranger's hands and I almost lost him that day. I was so grateful he had dodged another bullet.

So Bob thought about it and didn't have too long to make a decision. There was some sort of divine intervention lurking on his horizon. He took a photographer up to do some aerial photography and a few days later he got a call from his boss. Someone in the area they were photographing called the FAA. They took down the number of the plane Bob was piloting and reported that someone that morning had been flying too low above their house. They said it was the call letters on Bob's plane. Only problem with that was that Bob did not go up until after 1pm that afternoon. The plane that was flying in the morning was not Bob.

In order to appease the homeowner, the FAA launched a full investigation and Bob had to hire an attorney. This court is not like other courts. It is run by the Federal Aviation Association. It was a hung court. From the moment they called him he never had a chance to prove his innocence. They had a pilot and any pilot would do to make this all go away.

Bob had all the phone records to prove that he was not even called to go in that morning until after 9, around the time the first plane was spotted flying to low.
The log that records what time a plane leaves the hanger proved he was not the pilot of the incident. It did not matter. They suspended his license for 6 months.

It was an outrage. The FAA was out for a body, any body to appease the neighborhood in which the incident took place. I never would have believed it was so corrupt unless we had lived through the experience. Bob was told to mail his pilots license into to the FAA. He never did. He told them he lost it. They knew he did not lose it, they also knew he was not the pilot flying the plane at fault. He was not fined for not turning in his license and they never replaced it as they said they would after the six months were up. Bob was right, he would have never gotten back his license had he mailed it in.

It was a sad time for him. He lost something that meant a lot to him, his ability to fly, to feel free, to teach others. So he started taking Karate with our son.

Years before Bob had studied another system. He really needed something to do everyday to feel productive. Our son was really happy to have his dad to look up to.
It gave them something that really bonded them. The only problem was that it was not good for Bob's body, he was getting hurt.
They went full out in their workouts and his body wasn't in the best shape when he started. He went in with a bad back and before he got his black belt five years later, he would also have two bad knees.

Another Rehab on the Horizon?

Of course there were so many signs pointing to the fact that Bob was losing control of his emotions and his pill intake. His temper was flaring all the time. He was irritable or just plain out there in his own world in his own head. When he was home he was sitting in our room smoking on the sofa, or when we were going out to dinner or a movie the first thing that would happen is, We would get in the car and of course he would ask for his pills, he had me keep them in my purse. He used his back as an excuse. It started out simple enough but by the time a year had gone by he would snap until I handed him his pills, then he would have me count them to see how many he had left. He was obsesessed with counting those damn pills. He was so afraid of running out.

He would say he couldn't stand to drive any place. Sitting was bad for his back, it caused him more pain. It was an endless chain of reasons why he was such an unhappy man. He was in Hell and I didn't get it. Imagine not being able to recognize addiction when it's looking you straight in the eye.

Another bout of denial on my part. I didn't want to face the truth. I wanted to believe the propaganda put out by the medical community. We watched a 60 minutes report on how people suffering from serious pain could not possible become addicted to the medication. What a lie. I even sent for a copy of the program to have on hand just to validate the fact that Bob needed 500 pills a month, I wanted to convice myself that there was no way he can get addicted, after all that was the reassuring message to families and victims of this pill abuse. If it was on 60 minutes, it had to be true. I will never forget that episode. an elderly womany lying on her sofa writhing in pain until she took her "Pills" then a bit later, WA LA, a miraculous transformation. From non=functional to fully functiional.
How comforting it was to know he would be safe, that our family would not be affected by his pain management as it was called. PROPAGANDA I also remember the cover of TIME or NEWSWEEK declaring that Cocaine wasn't addictive also.

That was the beginning of the Pain Management years.

We both wanted to believe the lies so desperately I was willing to put up with all the mood swings, after all, I made a promise to myself and Bob that I would stand by him as long as he didn't pick up a drink, it never changed, in my head he was Sober.
Crabby, but Sober. I was once again the oh so loyal enabler.

Dejavu A new Way

Pills, Pills and more Pills.

I can't blame Bob for getting so strung out on pills because I was involved from the beginning. Our local Malibu Family Doctor asked me how Bob's back was, and I told him even after surgery, he was still in a lot of pain. The physical therapist hurt him even further. Life in our house was miserable.

Our Doctor told me to make an appointment and send Bob into see him, I couldn't wait to tell him that our family doctor was actually going to step in and help him.
What he did was prescribe many many pills. Bob was given Vicodine, Valium, another pain pill and he was getting large amounts. He started out with maybe 100 of each which was supposed to last a month or something Bob was refilling his precsciptions every two weeks by the end of several months. He was also going to a doctor in town that I wasn't aware of in the beginning.

Then there was the Karate injuries which always lead to the emergency room for a demeral shot and more meds.
He was on a rollercoaster ride with addiction again and this time even I didn't realize how far gone he was.

Pill addiction is so socially acceptable, it's even more so when your doctor is giving them to you. Our world is full of addicts that don't even know what a problem they have. Got a little ache, here's some pain killers. I learned this from experience.

I was having problems with my sciatic nerve and went to a very reputable medical firm specializing in athletes with all sort of problems. After my test were taken and all the X-rays were read I was given a prescription for Vicoden. I was told to just call a refill number 24 hours in advance for as long as need for my refills. I didn't need to be seen again. That was that. If I hadn't been watching the amounts of pills Bob needed to take to help his pain, I probably would have been in the same boat as he was in.

No doctor told me that Vicodine is addictive, that I would start to develop a tolerance for it or that I would have to take more and more for the pain relieve to work. All I was told is that I had to take them every 6 hours so that they would not have time to wear off. Once the pain cycle starts up again, it's harder to control
it.

Until this day I regret speaking to our Family Doctor and after a year and a half of giving Bob more and more pills, he went to see him fresh out of his first rehab in 14 years and our doctor gave HIM a lecture on how he abused pills, taking absolutely no responsibility for giving him hundreds of pills a month. Imagine that.

Reality

As most parents of college age children know, this is an incredibly stressful time for the entire family.
Bob and his brother were Stanford Grads and so were some of their cousins. His daughter was very smart and spent every summer going to summer school just to make sure that her GPA was really high. A method that I never knew about before.

If you take classes in summer it's easier and faster to complete the essential classes and during the school year you can do all the extra curricular stuff that is so important on your college applications.

Well Bob's daughter had her mind set on going to Brown. She fell in love with it.
She did not get in, but she did get into Stanford.
One morning she called her dad and asked him if he could please call her grandfather to find out if she had been accepted. Her Grandfather had been a large contributor to Stanford and had asked someone high up in admissions to keep track of her application.
Bob called his dad and that's when we learned the great news. His daughter had been accepted into Stanford. He immediately phoned her to give her the good news. It was only hours before the mail had come so she knew a little bit in advance.
The entire family was so happy.

Her Grandfather was having a Passover dinner the next day and we brought balloons to the house to congratulate her achievement. Well, instead of being happy, she of course was upset. She told us all that we should have never given her the news of her acceptance. I was stunned. We did not offer to find out in advance. She called her father and asked him to find out.

She told me that her mother was upset by her father telling her. Whether she admitted to her mom that she called him I will never know. This was normal behavior for her. Her dad did what she asked of him and then she would turn it against him.
This was not the first time that the tables had turned against Bob. Right before his daughter turned 16 her mom was out of town so she asked her father if he would take her to look for cars. He was really happy she wanted him to take her.
It was agreed that her grand-father and her father would get her the car of her choice. So off they went to look.

I got a call later that afternoon and Bob told me he had made a great deal on the car that his daughter picked out. We were all so excited. His dad had agreed to pay a certain amount so it came to a little over that and Bob just paid the rest.

They got the car to her house. We were all thinking that everyone would be so excited, but not in this family. Her Mom and step dad were really upset with him. I guess her step father wanted to go pick out the car and just have them pay for it.

When her Mom called I told her it was no problem we would just keep the car in our garage and then they wouldn't have to deal with it, if they were so upset. I never heard another thing about it. But for the rest of the time she had the car, a brand new Toyota Celica, convertible, they referred to it as the piece of shit car.
What ingrates. I know they wanted her to get a BMW, but they forgot that it was his daughter's choice not theirs. She picked it out her Dad didn't.

So when everyone was so upset with the news of her admittance into Stanford we should have not been surprised that there would be conflict once again. He could do nothing right, no matter what it was, and she always sided with her mother's opinion not ever caring how it affected her father.

How could such a wonderful moment be turned into a bad thing? That was his daughter in a nut shell. He could do nothing right in her eyes. On several occasions I tried to find out what the hell she was so upset about. I think it always came down to whatever her mom said. If her mom didn't agree, she held it against her father.
I guess no matter how book smart a person is, the ignorance is still there.

She simply could not separate one parents opinion from the other. One's opinion was written in Gold the other's was nothing except BAD. I now know that there is so much more to the anatomy of this kind of thinking. It is the product of a very confused child that needs help figuring out how to think for herself without anyone swaying her thoughts. Years of therapy have not been able to accomplish this either.

After a while it all calmed down, but this event left an indelible mark on our lives.
It was now so clear that even though Bob had not had one drop of liquor pass his lips he still had not been forgiven for past "Sins" nor would he ever be. He started to distance himself emotionally from her. It was etched into his brain that all she needed was cash to buy things and do whatever she wanted that her Mom didn't want to pay for. It is when the phrase "The Human Credit Card" started to be thrown around by Bob when referring to his daughter. He would say, "I'm just a human credit card to her. He was right.

She never called to see him to just hang out with him,but she would call me at times and ask me if I wanted to go shopping with her. That translated into getting whatever she needed, put on her father's credit cards without him having to be there to annoy her. I admit most men don't want to stand around watching a teenage girl try on clothes for a couple of hours, plus we had our son along always and he didn't have any patience after a while. How terrible of me to go along with it. I'm ashamed of myself for not doing the right thing.

I simply was tired of fighting with Bob about his family. At various times things would come up and I was always defending someone in his family to him. It was never ending. He began to have major resentments which was definitely not good for his sobriety.

I loved his family and I could never begin to heal his demons about his past actions and how they affected everyone around him. Even his years of sobriety had not gained him the respect I think he wanted more than anything from his family. It was never going to happen. He lost their respect many years ago. He had slipped from the "Golden Boy" the the family waiting for him to get drunk again.

He would sit on the sofa in our room night after night and chain smoke. I could see the wheels turning in his mind. Lost in his thoughts sometimes not even able to hear me call him or ask him a question. Our son and I used to laugh and say "Earth to Bernie" as I like to call him. Lights were on and no one was there. Many nights he would call his daughter just to hear her voice. But what he really needed was a real relationship with her. She wasn't really interested in spending time with him.

This was the beginning of him dropping his cigarettes and burning holes in the pillows, the sofa and even one night he started the bed and the carpet on fire.

At the time I did not realize what was going on. He had started taking Valium, given to him by his doctor for a very serious back problem. He had gone through a major back surgery and he was still in a lot of pain.

We had turned a new chapter in our lives. One that is even more insidious than the drinking. It is non detectable, you can't smell it. Bob wasn't stumbling around but make no mistake, he was not Sane and Sober.
Because of his addictive personality, the pills just started to replace the alcohol.
He was now obsessed with his pills. We couldn't leave the house without him counting how many pills he had in a little bottle just in case he needed them.

Later I would learn that he had several doctors to give him duplicate prescriptions.
What most people don't know is how easy it is to get several doctors to give you whatever you want when you have a real issue. His bad back was real. So was his addiction. He needed more and more just to feel better. There was no shortage of doctors willing to give him what he wanted.

At this time Bob was working on his Black Belt in Karate with our son and a friend of his. They rented an office at the Studio and went in several times a week. They were writing a screenplay together. His friend was very high strung and Bob would say that he needed the Valium just to be around him. Then he would say he was tense around his Dad and Brother. There was always a reason to take a Valium.

He would get hurt during Karate Classes and started going to the Emergency room afterwards for a cracked rib, broken nose etc. I begged him to stop karate. We fought about that a lot. I saw a pattern taking shape here. Get hurt, go to a doctor or hospital. Get a shot of Demerol or whatever and get sent home with pain pills. It is not a new thing. Many people have figured this one out. Doctors are like legal drug dealers to some addicts. They get what they want and they cannot get into trouble with the Law for it.

No one was taking into consideration the damage all the pills were having on Bob's memory, moods or even the fact that his body seemed to be creating more pain so that he could take more and more pills.