Appreciating paint stains...
Redmayne
Thread Starter
Join Date: Apr 2011
Location: Manchester, England, UK.
Posts: 1,543
Appreciating paint stains...
In early Sept., 2016, and sober since Feb., 2008 one evening I suddenly found myself in hospital facing a surgeon who told me that whilst he and his team were prepared to operate my chances of recovery were slim to such effect that my son had been warned to expect the worst...
The cause, a duodenal ulcer, of whose existence I was completely unaware of, which announced its presence by bursting on my way into the operating theatre! Great!!!
The operation was followed by my spending a further 5 weeks in a medically induced coma, there were well founded fears of sepsis... and further weeks on a surgical ward and rehabilitation centre. I couldn't even stand up let alone walk at this time.
During the whole of this time, my son, whom despite being a 'high functioning alcoholic, raised myself from when he was ten, as an unsupported, single parent took over he care and maintenance of both my finances and my living accommodation.
By the time I came home he had transformed both, allowing for a degree of lassitude. My overdraft was considerably reduced and my flat (apartment) was partially, especially in the bedroom, transformed with a few paint stains left on the carpet here and there...
Initially I was, given a surgeon has told me I'd gone through a very stressful and traumatic experience, in which I include my son. To take much notice of anything, just glad I was home and alive!
This morning, I noticed the paint stains, the residue of my son's efforts and reflected on how different in my 'drinking days' my response would have been to his efforts and their presence...but not, in recovery, now. Whereas once I would have commented and criticised, followed up no doubt by my efforts to show him how it should be done...
Now I just smiled in appreciation of all he'd done for me , how he'd stroked my forehead when I first came out of the coma, still pumped full of drugs and how he'd been with me if not always physically but in spirit in my 'drinking days' whilst I'd battled against alcohol, eventually recognising that I suffer from alcoholism. 'Cunning. baffling and powerful'
Together with the pride I took when he told me that at 35, and a father himself now with all the temptations of a 'gigging' professional musician, like a lot of young people, these days doesn't drink...
All this adds a certain ambience to my appreciating the paint stains...
The cause, a duodenal ulcer, of whose existence I was completely unaware of, which announced its presence by bursting on my way into the operating theatre! Great!!!
The operation was followed by my spending a further 5 weeks in a medically induced coma, there were well founded fears of sepsis... and further weeks on a surgical ward and rehabilitation centre. I couldn't even stand up let alone walk at this time.
During the whole of this time, my son, whom despite being a 'high functioning alcoholic, raised myself from when he was ten, as an unsupported, single parent took over he care and maintenance of both my finances and my living accommodation.
By the time I came home he had transformed both, allowing for a degree of lassitude. My overdraft was considerably reduced and my flat (apartment) was partially, especially in the bedroom, transformed with a few paint stains left on the carpet here and there...
Initially I was, given a surgeon has told me I'd gone through a very stressful and traumatic experience, in which I include my son. To take much notice of anything, just glad I was home and alive!
This morning, I noticed the paint stains, the residue of my son's efforts and reflected on how different in my 'drinking days' my response would have been to his efforts and their presence...but not, in recovery, now. Whereas once I would have commented and criticised, followed up no doubt by my efforts to show him how it should be done...
Now I just smiled in appreciation of all he'd done for me , how he'd stroked my forehead when I first came out of the coma, still pumped full of drugs and how he'd been with me if not always physically but in spirit in my 'drinking days' whilst I'd battled against alcohol, eventually recognising that I suffer from alcoholism. 'Cunning. baffling and powerful'
Together with the pride I took when he told me that at 35, and a father himself now with all the temptations of a 'gigging' professional musician, like a lot of young people, these days doesn't drink...
All this adds a certain ambience to my appreciating the paint stains...
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