My name is Tina and I'm an alcoholic in recovery. I am humbled by being able to claim 18 years and eight months of contiguous sobriety. I need to tell you that I'm terminally ill living in a hospice care facility. And I am happy, joyous, and free. I am one of the lucky few to be blessed with ALS (also known as "Lou Gehrig's Disease") or amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, a progressive, degenerative neuro-muscular disease that has no treatment and no cure.
That is correct, no treatment and no cure. Zip, zero, and nada. Go home and get your affairs in order and we don't know how long you have. How did I handle this solemn proclamation? About like you'd expect a veteran AA member with 16+ years of "Letting go and letting God". Yep, I fell apart.
.How am I going to tell my loved ones? When and what will I tell? What will my husband do without me? What about my daughter? Cat? Chickens? Our homes aren't complete. What about work? Will I qualify for S.S.D.I.? Oh God, that's welfare! How long will I have? I cannot really tell all the thoughts and problems my mind invented.
Fortunately, my auto-pilot kicked in and my first stop was to another AA member's home. She managed to cut through my overloaded brain with one question: "You can do this one of two ways, do you want to do this drunk Or do you want to do this sober?
Stopping short,I looked at her and answered, "Sober." She led me in prayer and then directed me to the next indicated step. Have I called my sponsor? Good idea! Why didn't I think of that? Indeed!
Fast forward nearly three years, I've lost nearly all to this horrible disease; houses, car, motorcycle, family, friends, pets, mobility, freedom, dreams. And, inexorably, I will lose the ability to breathe. I have had to learn over and over again, that fine art of letting go and letting God. And I've had to learn to concentrate on the .gratitude. There is ALWAYS something to be grateful for. For me, I am sober and, consequently, I continue to have choices. I choose to be happy, joyous, and free.
Tina F.
Maple Valley, WA
That is correct, no treatment and no cure. Zip, zero, and nada. Go home and get your affairs in order and we don't know how long you have. How did I handle this solemn proclamation? About like you'd expect a veteran AA member with 16+ years of "Letting go and letting God". Yep, I fell apart.
.How am I going to tell my loved ones? When and what will I tell? What will my husband do without me? What about my daughter? Cat? Chickens? Our homes aren't complete. What about work? Will I qualify for S.S.D.I.? Oh God, that's welfare! How long will I have? I cannot really tell all the thoughts and problems my mind invented.
Fortunately, my auto-pilot kicked in and my first stop was to another AA member's home. She managed to cut through my overloaded brain with one question: "You can do this one of two ways, do you want to do this drunk Or do you want to do this sober?
Stopping short,I looked at her and answered, "Sober." She led me in prayer and then directed me to the next indicated step. Have I called my sponsor? Good idea! Why didn't I think of that? Indeed!
Fast forward nearly three years, I've lost nearly all to this horrible disease; houses, car, motorcycle, family, friends, pets, mobility, freedom, dreams. And, inexorably, I will lose the ability to breathe. I have had to learn over and over again, that fine art of letting go and letting God. And I've had to learn to concentrate on the .gratitude. There is ALWAYS something to be grateful for. For me, I am sober and, consequently, I continue to have choices. I choose to be happy, joyous, and free.
Tina F.
Maple Valley, WA
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