Truth Tale #22: The Gut Wrenching Intuition of a Relapse

I can not count the number of times I have said to 10 years worth of therapists, case managers, doctors…”This is the beginning of a relapse!” well before a drug has been pick up. As his mom, I always know. I can feel it like a light dusting of snow, gradually falling on my face; I feel it, it stings, but it’s light….it melts once it attaches to my cheeks, so I can’t hold it, prove it, or show for it. But I know. And it is the most devastating feeling…knowing that within days or weeks, you are about to see your son get closer to death than the last time. And knowing there really are not many more chances left at dodging the end. That is what is meant by ‘a progressive disease’. It only gets worse, never better.

One of the most common indicators that my son is on the path to a full blown relapse is a shift in attitude. I start to hear a tinge of ‘I don’t care’ in his voice, a dropping off of doing what he needs to do in his daily life, and I get calls regarding his lack of attendance at the things he must do in order to stay sober. The details may change slightly each time, but the sinking feeling I have is always the same.

This time went like this: On a Saturday, I got a call from staff that my son will be discharged from the program, as he is not following through on his commitments (heart races). On a Tuesday, I get a call from his therapist that he will be discharged from IOP, as he has missed too many appointments (heart skipping beats, feel it in my throat). On Wednesday, I go to pilates class and at the end, while we are on our backs (and I’m thinking I must have closed my eyes)…I saw my son’s face…just his face and his hair…and I was petting him softly..and he was whitish blue. I shook my head hard to try to get this to stop. It didn’t. I popped off the reformer and left. I got in my car. I called my son immediately. It was 11:11AM. He didn’t answer. I called my dad at 11:12AM. He answered. I told him what had just happened..I think he was a little taken aback. I remember him saying, “WOW!”. 

At 2:00PM, I had therapy…and my therapist suggested I go to more meetings…for me..for self care. That sort of freaked me out, as he has never felt the need to tell me to up my meeting attendance. It’s funny how fear can sometimes be the fire I need under my ass, to take action. I made a plan….Friday I will meet my sponsee and then we will go to a meeting I have not been to in over 4 years. I double check to see the meeting still exists (post Covid)…and it does..and it says it’s a Big Book meeting. YAY! Perfect. I remember this meeting- it’s big and I am able to blend in with the woodwork of the church basement walls. 

Friday comes. I meet my sponsee. She mentions that the meeting on Fridays is a meditation meeting. And I was like, “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! No. The website says Big Book!” I double checked on my phone and it still said Big Book meeting. Something came up, sponsee couldn’t go to the meeting, so I drive over..go into the basement door, and walk into a big, empty room. And it’s dark. Clearly there is no meeting going on in here. I ask someone and they say it’s upstairs in the sanctuary. I go up, see the group in a circle, find a seat, and say that I think I am in the wrong meeting. And they tell me, “Oh, Fridays are meditation meetings.” Are you fucking serious?! Had I known it was going to be a meditation meeting, I am sure I would have decided I had something else to do from 12-1. Why would I want to sit in silence with strangers in a church, hearing the sounds of the heater going off and on, along with the gross array of cough sounds- some dry, some wet, some hacking. This is what I am thinking this meditation meeting is going to be. Well, a moment of grace came and I was able to sit down and shut up and try. I closed my eyes (for 10 whole minutes)….trying to focus on my inhale/exhale…letting my distraction thoughts be balloons that fly away…I find myself repeating this in my mind, “G-d, please help Aidan, as I obviously can’t.” Over and over. The meeting ended at 1:00PM.

Saturday, Aidan calls me to catch up. He sounds ok, fills me in on the progress of finding an Oxford House (Google it), tells me how he loves his work. It was a nice call, all things considered. He calls me back less than an hour later. That is unusual. He tells me he had a seizure (heart sank) at the church the day before (THAT WAS FRIDAY! Yes, same day AND time I was at church!), tells me it was from dehydration, all is fine, etc…I knew there was a lot of missing information…pretty much all of the facts. There are a flurry of calls and texts, trying to piece this all together. I was able to speak to the pastor who found him on the floor, having a seizure, non-responsive. The details are unbearable. Here is a piece of it, when I asked the Pastor for details:

Definitely sounded and looked like a seizure to me because Aidans feet were banging on the floor and he was rigid. Almost like his body was experiencing convulsions. When he stopped he turned totally pale and stopped breathing. That’s when I prayed, started the CPR and called 911. Thank God he’s here and has another chance 

. The EMT’s were perplexed and were intent on taking him to the hospital when he couldn’t answer any basic questions. I was shocked when he texted me, what seemed like less than an hour telling me he was coming back to the church. He was totally unaware of what had happened. He was surprised and apologized to me. He’s what we call a sweet spirited person! He texted me back last night to tell me he was getting treatment. By the way he asked me about his glasses. I have his hat and his glasses. (heart BROKEN)

Needless to say, I am beside myself. Relapse sucks! SUD sucks! Kratom sucks! I’m beat, but I have felt so much love and support from ALL OF YOU! It really helps. 

And we continue on………..