Home > Miscellaneous > Oops > Chapter 11
Brynna smiled, still looking a tad nervous. "Okay. She was up hellishly early, and today was... stressful. So she might be in bed already, but it's really pretty early. Why don't we, um, watch a movie or something for a bit, to be on the safe side?"
Once she'd got them settled on the couch and a movie started, though, Brynna found she couldn't really enjoy it. She kept thinking of her mother's strained expression and wondering if there was something she should have been doing to make it easier. How soon does withdrawal kick in, anyway? How bad could it get? Was there anything that would help? She squeezed Anne against her side for a moment, then bent and kissed her ear, whispering, "I need to look some stuff up, pet. You stay here and relax, okay? I won't be long."
She punched in her search, and with each link she followed, she got a bit more worried. She had thought her mother would have be a bit sick, have to deal with some anxiety, depression, being touchy and jittery, but as she read about the long-term effects of heavy alcohol use, and the possible withdrawal symptoms and their severity, she realized she'd underestimated the difficulties by an order of magnitude. Within 6 to 12 hours of stopping regular alcohol intake, the symptoms could include tremors, anxiety, insomnia, palpitations, and stomach upset. With 2 to 24 hours, hallucinations could occur, along with nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, and even seizures. The milder symptoms usually went away on their own within a few days, but if the heavier symptoms occured, they could be... really bad. The seizures were almost always big ones... though there was usually only one.
Brynna kept reading, wondering if her mother really drank enough for all of this to apply. Strangely, information on how much alcohol intake it took to trigger major problems was hard to find, but she did eventually track down the normally accepted amount— 80 grams. Or, basically, 8 drinks. Usually her mother didn't drink quite that much. Not quite. But nearly. And she was fairly small. And sometimes she drank more. And she'd been under such stress... Shit. Brynna rubbed at her temples, and went looking for treatment options.
Surprisingly, there were some! The standard regimine was detoxification, combined with counciling and occasional IV therapy to prevent dehydration during the period of nausea and/or delirium, and there were even several drugs that could help reduce the symptoms. Of course, they weren't anything that could be bought over the counter, and the best prognosis for recovery with the least chance of recividism seemed to come from in-house treatment programs which combined drug-therapy with counsiling and twentyfour hour monitoring. Frowning, Brynna printed out the papers, making a neat stack, and then went searching for treatment programs in her area.
There were several. Most of them, though, were AA, which she was wary of. She'd heard a lot about them, read about their philosophies, and didn't approve. In her experience, giving your problems to a 'higher power' was the wrong way to go. She wanted something that focused more on personal responsibility and building self-worth, not admission of worthlessness and begging for help. For the same reason, she veered away from religious-based programs. She kept looking, and eventually found a program that was run by a hospital, and seemed to be what she was looking for. They taught stress-management and self-awareness as part of their program. They utilized the latest medications and methods, but also used guided relaxation and meditation techniques. It sounded good. But it wasn't cheap. She printed out the info on it, anyway, though. She'd find a way to get the money if she had to. Besides... Paul had said he'd help. She wouldn't ask for herself, but for this she'd be willing to accept charity. She gathered all the papers up and turned off the computer, then went to check and see if her mother's light was off.
The light was still on, so Brynna headed into the kitchen and made a strong cup of tea. Not caffienated, of course. The tea she made had chamomile, mint, hops, and valarian, and she brewed it dark brown and added a generous dollop of honey, then put the cup on a saucer, grabbed the papers, and headed to her mother's room and knocked lightly on the door.
Brynna opened the door and slipped inside, closing it behind her. Her mother looked drawn and tired, totally worn out, and she frowned. "Hey. I brought you some tea, and I've been doing some reading... can I sit down?"
"Sure, honey," her mother said. "Some tea would be nice right now." She sighed. "Not as nice as a drink, but..."
Brynna sat down by her mother on the bed, handing her the cup. "Like I said, I've been doing some reading, and... and I'm worried about you."
"You are," Brynna agreed. "I'm going to make sure of that. From what I could find, this isn't usually more than difficult and uncomfortable, but... it can be pretty bad. And there are ways to make it easier on you. There're medicines that can help, and stuff. And programs. I found one that sounds pretty good. They're not religious fanatics or anything... it's run by doctors, and in a hospital. It usually only takes a few days, maybe a week or two at most."
Brynna shook her head. "It's not like AA or anything. It's just doctors and nurses making sure you get everything you need, and that nothing goes wrong."
"Honey, it's not like I'm a junkie or something. I just drink a little too much, that's all," Angie said. "I don't need to go to the hospital."
Brynna sighed. "Mom. I love you. You drink a lot too much, and it would have been more if there'd been time and money for it. The success rate for quiting is a lot higher when you have help. And even if it wasn't, there's no reason you should have to suffer through withdrawal symptoms when they have medicines to help. Besides, it says point blank in lots of places that you're not supposed to be alone while you're doing it. So it's either go somewhere where other people can look out for you, or I'll have to stay home from school to do it. If you'd rather do it that way, rather be home comfortable in your own bed, that's cool. We can see a doctor monday, get you this diazapan stuff that they prescribe, and I'll pick up my assignments and stay home a few days. No big deal. But I'd be more comfortable with you around doctors, cause some of this stuff is really scary, and they don't know how to predict who'll just have mild symptoms and who'll have really bad ones."
"See, you can't know that," Brynna said. "Because all these experts," she waved the papers, "don't know that. There's some correlation between time spent drinking, tolerance, and amount... but those correlations aren't really in your favor, Mom. And sometimes, they just don't know why someone has a seizure, becomes delirius and dies. It just happens. And if they're alone, there's nothing anyone can do."
"It's not common. It used to be. It used to be 20%. Now it's closer to 2%," Brynna said, omitting that those figures applied to people experiencing delirium tremens, not mild alcohol withdrawal, "but it still happens. And they don't know what makes it happen to one person and not another, so all you can do is be careful and make sure you don't leave the person alone. And the medicine helps. And IV fluids, if nausea makes it so they can't drink."
Brynna hugged her. "No, Mama. It was a lot of liquor. You've been doing this for as long as I can remember. Over a decade. Your body is used to getting it, and it's not going to like not getting it. Think about it... six shots a day, 365 days a year, for over ten years. That's a lot of alcohol. It's okay to accept help to fix it."
"Yeah," her mother said softly. "When you look at it that way, I guess it is. But, honey, I don't see how we can afford anything like that."
"We can't," Brynna said. "But he said he'd help. The company would help. And if he fired dickhead because of what you told him, that probably saved them as much money as it would cost. And you'll save them more, later on, because you don't do things halfway. You're like me... if you're going to do something, you'll do it right. Do this right, too, so that you can do that right when you're done."
"I guess you've got a point," her mother said. "Assuming that Mahoney wasn't able to talk his way out of it."
Brynna shook her head. "From talking to Anne... well, her father just knows people. It's like, this weird skill he has. I don't think very many people have ever lied to him and got away with it. He sees what they are, not what they say."
"How about I call him for you, and we go ahead and take you there?" Brynna said. "The worst symptoms don't wait three days. They can start anywhere from 2 to 24 hours."
Brynna hugged her tightly. "Nothing's going to be ruined, Mama. This is a really good thing. Something to celebrate. Not anything bad. Don't you worry about that."
Her mother opened her mouth to protest, then sighed in resignation. "Okay, honey. If you really think it's important."
Brynna smiled, her eyes glistening suspiciously. "I do. I really do. You pack a bag, and drink your tea, and I'll call him. Don't worry about anything, I'll take care of it."
Brynna kissed her cheek, then went to look for the phone. It would be hard to ask, but it would have been harder for her mother to do it, she knew.
"Oh no! Anne's fine!" She smiled, her tone softening. "Just fine... Um, that's not what I was calling about. I... It... it's about what you told my mother this morning."
"I looked into it, if that's what you mean." His voice was cold. "I wish I'd known about this several months ago. It wasn't just a matter of someone being in over his head and making bad judgement calls; he was falsifying his reports. I owe your mother quite a bit for telling me about the parts she knew."
"Oh, good," Brynna said. "I mean, not good that it was happening, but good that you found out about it. But that's... that's not really what I meant. I... I don't like doing this. But if the information is really going to be that big of a help, maybe it's not too bad... and she couldn't ask, she just couldn't..."
Brynna took a deep breath. "I don't need anything, but she needs help. She'd do it alone, but I don't think she understand what it's going to be like, or what the risks are. I didn't understand them until I looked them up, but now I'm scared, and I want her where doctors can watch over her, and the studies all say the first 24 hours was really the most dangerous, and Brenner Regional has a program that looks good, but I just don't have the money. I can get her there, but I can't afford the program, and up til now she's made just enough too much to qualify for any kind of aid."
"That's no problem. As of today she's a manager and has health insurance," he said. "If you want, I can meet you there and help you with the paperwork and the red tape. You don't have any idea how bad it can be."
Brynna hesitated. "Um. Shit. I don't want to drag Siobhan and Anne around to a hospital... but she needs to go tonight. But... I... okay, that'll be fine. I'll get everyone dressed and ready and call a cab, and I'll be there in... um... probably an hour."
"Oh. O-okay. I guess that would be best," she said, thinking about how long she might have to stretch the $75 she had in her backpack. "Um. Thanks. I wouldn't ask for this if it wasn't important. I know it's... bad timing... but... she's already made the decision, I don't want to tell her, 'no, go ahead and drink this weekend and we'll get you into treatment on Monday.' I just think that would be really damaging. I'm sorry."
"Don't be," he said. "You're right. I'll be honest, I hadn't expected her to decide that quickly. Most don't, in my experience. It takes them a while to do it."
"My mother's not most people," Brynna said, a defensive edge to her voice. "She just... needed a reason. I better go, I've still got to tell the girls. Thanks again."
"You're right about one thing," he said. "Your mother is definitely not most people. I was impressed. Okay, let's see... give me half an hour, maybe forty-five minutes."
Brynna stood by the couch for a minute, looking down at Siobhan and Anne with a sad, maybe a touch guilty, expression.
"Um." Brynna sighed again. "I... We need to take Mom down to the hospital. There's no serious problems yet, but there could be, and... and I'd just feel a whole lot better with her there. Um." She looked at Anne. "Your father's going to pick us up and drive us there, and help me get her signed in. I know this isn't what I promised you, honey, but... but it just can't wait. I'm so sorry."
"I didn't really look at the reasons behind it, I was too worried about the symptoms," Brynna said. "And the worst thing are rare, but... they don't know why it'll happen to some people and not others. So I'd just be more comfortable with her in the hospital right now."
"Nothing, yet. But... it's normal, honey. Those are all normal withdrawal symptoms," Brynna said. "That's what makes it so hard for people to stop, even when they've decided to."
"From... from stopping drinking? But... wow. I didn't realize. I thought it was just drugs that did that," Siobhan said.
Brynna shook her head. "No. Alcohol is a drug, honey. It's just a legal one. That doesn't make it safe. People can die trying to quit."
Brynna stepped over and hugged her. "She's not going to. It's really, really rare, these days, and usually is a result of them not having anyone to watch out for them. There's medicines and things that can help. It's going to be okay."
"She's not going to," Brynna said firmly. "The alcohol has a much bigger chance of being fatal than quitting it does. But just to be safe, I want to put her where the doctors can take care of her. And it really needs to be tonight, so we need to get our day clothes back on, and be ready to go when he gets here."
"Baby, I would love for you to stay. I... I don't know how long this is going to take, though. Your father said the paperwork could be really evil."
Brynna smiled and looked back to Anne. "See? You're very welcome. I hate to drag you into all of this, and if there were any way it could wait, I wouldn't, but that's not because I don't want you with me."
Brynna reached out and pulled her into her arms, burying her face against the black curls. "You're helping already. More than you could imagine," she whispered. "Come on, baby, let's get dressed so your dad doesn't have to wait on us. He's doing me a huge favor, so I don't want to annoy him."
Brynna went over to the bed and hugged her tightly. "I'll help," she said. "I think... some clothes, of course. A comfy gown and warm robe cause hospitals can be cold. Some books? So you have something to do other than watch TV? Bathroom stuff... I'll gather your favorite things together. Is there anything you just want to have with you? Something to make you feel better?"
Brynna hugged her again. "Okay, then. I'll do this for you, you just rest." Brynna grabbed the bag and went to pack it. Clothes. Gown, Warm flannel robe. Toiletry items. Books. And, after a bit of thought, she went to her room and removed the slightly battered but still cuddly stuffed dragon from its hiding place under her bed and tucked it in. It couldn't hurt, and might help. She patted the red velour head and then zipped up the bag and slung it over her shoulder. Then, she fished $15 out of her own bag and went back to her mother's room. "Okay. All packed, and here..." She tucked the money into her mother's purse and handed it to her. "Hospital food is disgusting, but they have vending machines and things, so you'll need a little cash. If that's not enough, I'll get more, and bring it after school tomorrow."
"Shhh," Brynna said. "Don't worry. Everything's going to be okay. You don't need to worry about us. We're going to be fine. Just work on getting well, okay?"