Ron has taken the access panel off the dishwasher, thinks "his fanny pack is trapped" in there, sticking his hand in the unit.
I have pleaded, begged, ORDERED in the STRONGEST terms to PLEASE STOP YOU WILL HURT YOURSELF.
"Re-lax, It's OK" then I hear him banging again. I may have to go outside and throw the breaker.
Edit: since he was obsessed with his fanny pack I went and got it, put it in front of him. He was very happy to "find" it and has left the dishwasher alone.
This is why, half the time, when I go out I think I will come home and find him dead.
5 comments:
That's not very loving of you. Here's to having to buy a new dishwasher cause your husband is a drunken moron.
"This is why, half the time, when I go out I think I will come home and find him dead." Here's hoping! I'll pray about it for you.
Call 911 when you can't get him to stop endangering himself. He is out of control. When a drunk and/or hallucinating man is doing reckless things that could kill him or burn down your house, that is an emergency.
I don't think he broke it, but even if we did I never use it anyway.
At present I am documenting everything here so I have proof if/when something happens. I don't think anyone wants to take us on. My family are aware but probably not how bad, maybe my aunt if she is still reading.
When Ron is temperate in his drinking he can certainly manage his own affairs, pay the bills, arrange transportation, work, etc. That, as I see it, is the problem. If he is "wild thing" running amok then he has to go in a nursing home. He is a danger to himself and others. But he is that, a percentage of the time. What percentage flips the switch? I haven't figured that out.
Remember I have my own brain damage in play. That's the kind of thing that has me up at 3 AM pouring Ron into bed again and listening to Skillet once he's "down".
Heather my friend, I sympathize with you more than you would believe that I could. I’ve only had a small taste of what you’ve been dealing with-if you don’t remember because I don’t post much, my husband has terminal double lung cancer and complications. The docs gave him 8-11 months, we’re going on 6 years. But let me tell you, as I’m sure you know-men may be the oak trees, but they don’t bend, they break. We bend, but we damn well don’t break.
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