Was Andrew Carnegie a Hero?
I first came to SA on November 27, 1992, and I've been sober ever since. When someone asks me what I've done to stay sober, my answer is always the same: "I don't know. I did not do it; I have a Higher Power Jewish Manwho shows me that He can do it." I thank God every day for my sobriety—but I'm in a very hard place today.
My wife passed away six months ago, on June 28, 2011, after she had struggled with cancer for 17 months. For 17 months, we went through cycles of promises of hope for her recovery, followed by announcements that another tumor had been found and they would try a different chemotherapy. Then hope! Then another tumor, a different type of treatment, more surgery, a different hospital, and different promises. Over and over. Yet none of those promises came true.
As I watched the closest person in my life go from bad to progressively worse, I went through cycles of hope and despair. Today Iunderstand what my wife must have gone through with me during the years of my addiction, when I made many promises to her that never came true until I came to SA. I suffered a similar pain as I watched her dying.
When my wife died, she left me with four sons at home. One of our sons is in high school, one is in college, and the other two are handicapped. My 27-year-old lives on a respirator. My 24-year-old is mentally retarded and has cerebral palsy. My wife was the hero who took care of our children for 27 years, but I must take care of them now. Sometimes I must lift one of the them into a wheelchair or back in bed. I often feel overwhelmed, trying to be both a mother and a father to them.
I have 24-hour nurses paid by Medicaid, but they are not always available on weekends or holidays. At other times, I'm home at night and the nurse who takes care of my kids is living in our house. As a sexaholic, I'm not comfortable with the situation, but I have no choice. Yet I know that if I stay sober, I will be okay.
I have been told, "Don't quit before the
My wife passed away six months ago, on June 28, 2011, after she had struggled with cancer for 17 months. For 17 months, we went through cycles of promises of hope for her recovery, followed by announcements that another tumor had been found and they would try a different chemotherapy. Then hope! Then another tumor, a different type of treatment, more surgery, a different hospital, and different promises. Over and over. Yet none of those promises came true.
As I watched the closest person in my life go from bad to progressively worse, I went through cycles of hope and despair. Today Iunderstand what my wife must have gone through with me during the years of my addiction, when I made many promises to her that never came true until I came to SA. I suffered a similar pain as I watched her dying.
When my wife died, she left me with four sons at home. One of our sons is in high school, one is in college, and the other two are handicapped. My 27-year-old lives on a respirator. My 24-year-old is mentally retarded and has cerebral palsy. My wife was the hero who took care of our children for 27 years, but I must take care of them now. Sometimes I must lift one of the them into a wheelchair or back in bed. I often feel overwhelmed, trying to be both a mother and a father to them.
I have 24-hour nurses paid by Medicaid, but they are not always available on weekends or holidays. At other times, I'm home at night and the nurse who takes care of my kids is living in our house. As a sexaholic, I'm not comfortable with the situation, but I have no choice. Yet I know that if I stay sober, I will be okay.
I have been told, "Don't quit before the