About a year ago I separated from my husband. He was binging on alcohol periodically and it got ridiculous. Like living with an 80kg toddler. The last straw was spending a harrowing few days with A and E and him being put into rehab, coming home, deciding to go to the cinema together, whereupon he ordered a beer to enjoy with the film, explaining to me that he did not really have a problem with alcohol.
So I moved out and we are making steps towards divorce, remaining friendly and caring as much as possible. We were together 15 years and obviously loads of good times. Since separating he's dating and I've been involved with someone new.
Anyway, ex has been binging over the last few weeks. This means like 4-5 bottles per day. I was leaving him to it, figuring if he can get himself alcohol he can get himself help.
However he rang me yesterday afternoon and asked whether I'd drive him to the GP as he was unwell. He said he couldn't manage the 500 metre walk to the GP. He's never done that before and though I suspected it was drama I drove him. GP took his stats and called ambulance. Now he's in hospital and doctors say heart failure.
I spent last night and most of today with him, texted his friends and family.
I am a little freaked out at how numb I feel. Of course I am kind and caring towards him. However all I can think of is the amount of times he looked at my fucking face and told me he was not going to give up alcohol and that I was judgemental. And now he's dying in I guess the way he wanted. I know how cold that sounds. I'm sort of afraid to start crying.
The doctors keep looking at me when the give the diagnoses and when they describe the treatment plan. I finally had to tell the consultant this morning, 'Tell him, not me!' we have told the doctor that I'm an ex.
One of our friends today asked whether I would be moving back in to care for him when he comes home. I gave her a blunt 'no' and was frankly surprised she would suggest it.
I don't really have a question. This just sucks.