Thursday, 8 January 2009
Andy Warhols Orange Car Crash Fourteen Times, 1963. Waiting for Jane to stop binging is like waiting for an imminent car crash. Photo by wallyg
Sometimes the press talk of alcoholic binging in a misleading way. Non-alcoholics binge at the weekend, for example. But an alcoholic binger is quite different. This isn't about letting go at the weekend. This is about a need to to go to bed for 11 days (this last binge) and drink neat vodka from the bottle every day at the rate of at least one bottle per day - and I am talking about a woman.
Jane has been binging for 11 days and she asked me to go and buy some more vodka yesterday evening. I refused this time. This is one of those borderline decisions. Up until yesterday I agreed to buy the vodka as it saved her walking to the shops in an appalling state with the risk of falling over and/or getting mugged etc. But after a while one is simply feeding the habit, making it easier to sustain, so I refused.
She is now making herself sick at regular intervals despite reminding her to take a tranquilliser and an anti-sickness pill, which she agreed to do but failed to do. And I can't force her to take it.
Jane is surrounded by an appalling smelly mess. It is quite horrendous. It truly pongs (UK term meaning very smelly). I'll take her quite a while to come down from this binge and get back on her feet again, perhaps about a week. She'll be very depressed and unfit for work if the work is still there for here, which is becoming increasingly unlikely.
Yesterday I spoke with a neighbour next door, who lives in a large house to see if I could live in part of it. This may be the beginning of the end of what is left of out relationship, which has all but been killed off by the dreaded Mr.V. True alcoholic binging is carried out by an alcoholic and it is frightening. Every day it is like watching a car crash, waiting for Jane to become badly injured either by falling over or through alcoholic poisoning.