Becoming his wife’s caretaker left this longtimer alone and without meetings. Good thing his sponsor had a plan
Four years ago, I came home one evening from my usual AA meeting to find my wife in an irrational rage. She was completely out of control, yelling at me, “Get out of my house,” among other things. I did not leave, and finally she settled down and went to sleep on the couch. I had been going to two meetings a week at my home group for more than 30 years. Sometimes she was irritated about my attendance, but this time was scary.
A few days later my friend Jim said, “Maybe it’s a security problem. It is dark this time of year, and she’s home alone.” That made sense. I reluctantly gave up meetings at night. But things got worse.
Over a period of several months, I became aware that my wife was sinking into Alzheimer’s disease. Within six months, I was her full-time caregiver, and on a good day I might be able to go to the grocery store or to the gym or to walk for an hour. And then I would rush back to the house to make sure she was OK.
Meetings for me became impossible. Except for the black pit of despair in which I found myself years ago, right before I called AA for help that first time, I have never felt more alone or more afraid.
Then one morning while on the phone, my sponsor Harry asked me a question. “Can we get together for a coffee for an hour?” he said. “Is there a place close to your house?” Sure. The donut shop was just a few short blocks away. Tuesday morning at 10 a.m. worked for him and me. Things were usually quiet at the house at that time in the morning.
On the second week of these breakfast meetings, our friend Carl came with Harry. That made three of us, just talking and laughing the way we do in AA—with good coffee and fresh, hot doughnuts. A couple of weeks later, John joined us, then Jim. No, we did not read the Steps or the Preamble, but for me, we were a group.
For the next two years, every Tuesday morning these four men met with me. There was always at least one, sometimes two—or all four—coming in smiling for coffee, doughnuts and conversation. I loved them for it. They kept me sane and sober. They gave me hope.
Finally, I committed my wife to a nursing home where she received far better care than I could give her. Now I visit her every morning, then I go to my group’s noon meeting. Harry told me, “Don’t isolate, Tom.” And so I stay involved.
Years ago, AA gave me the precious gift of sobriety. I do not take it for granted. And of course, it gave me so much more, including those loyal friends who helped me through a long, dark time. In AA, I am never alone.