I never did take him to the ER or call an ambulance.
Not because it didn't get that bad, but because for the last four years of my marriage, we had separate bedrooms. I went to bed, he drank, and if I heard him bump into things or fall down or break glass, I rolled over, hoped he would die, and went back to sleep.
And I'm not saying that lightly.
But that's where I ended up.
I had NO sympathy and NO hope and I was literally praying for his death, because that was the only way out I could see.