My name is "Mobi"; I'm an alcoholic

Today I have been sober for 91 days.

Today I  received a comment which I consider to be so important that I have decided to publish it on the face of my blog, together with my response.

Submitted on 2009/11/29 at 8:33pm

I’m not sure about that … I understand not giving any money and all the other material support, but not visiting a good friend when he may be on his death bed seems very unkind. The odds are, from what you’ve been saying is that he is a lost cause – that he’s going to die from his addiction this time or the next. You’re not enabling him by showing compassion to a friend during his last few hours or days alive. People make their own choices and eventually you say, well it’s up to you, if this is the way you want to go out so be it. That doesn’t mean he has to die alone. I hope his ex does stay with him. To die as you’ve described alone in Bangkok is a very sorry way to go.

Submitted on 2009/11/29 at 10:09pm

You seem to have missed the point.

The only hope for Dave’s survival is for him to hit “rock bottom”, realise that he is at last on his own without any support, and then cry out for help. If we go and help him now and sit with him and comfort him, he may sober up for a while, then he will have to go into hospital, spend his last 200 -300,000 Baht on expensive doctors and detox treatment. And within a few weeks he will be back on his death bed again. Every crisis gets him closer and and quicker to the end.

We all want him to live, but the only way to save him is to be “cruel ” to him.

This is a very well documented and sometimes successful way to bring alcoholics to their senses, and has worked in countless cases throughout the world. By propping Dave up, we are only committing him to yet more hell. He must make that life changing decision for himself – nothing else will work. He is not a fool, even in his current state he knows he has a choice.

I have already reported that every single person I have consulted, including AA members with 30 years plus of sobriety and ongoing success in bringing others from the brink to sobriety, his English doctor, and even his own brother agree it is the only course of action left to us.

If you don’t think this is all breaking my heart then you have no understanding of what I have been writing, and while you are entitled to your opinion, which I respect, I suggest that your reaction to the crisis is overly emotional and does not take into account the extreme circumstances under which I am obliged to take this desperately sad action.

Added to which, my sponsor advises me to stay away for the sake of my own life and sobriety. I am not exactly the most stable of people to deal with something like this, and if we are not careful we may have two people on their death beds.

Part of me hopes that his ex stay with him, and the logical part of me hopes that she doesn’t, because it is only when he is totally alone, with no one to help him that he may finally come to his senses.

Of course, if I hear that he is completely beyond saving and has only a short time to live, then I will go to him and make his final hours as comfortable as possible.

Today I have been sober for 90 days.

I had to make the 9 a.m. meeting for my “90 Day AA birthday”, and managed it by the skin of my teeth.

I was very preoccupied by events of which I wrote briefly yesterday, and will write more below, and had trouble falling off to sleep.

Eventually I fell into a fitful sleep only to be woken at 5 a.m. by my condo phone ringing. As there is no one who would dream of calling my on my land-line at that hour of the morning, (hardly anyone has the number and even those who did would always call me on my mobile rather than the land-line), I avoided answering in the hope it would go away. Well it did, and then rang again five minutes later, just as I was dropping off again. I ignored it again, and it eventually stopped, only to ring a third time a further five minutes on. This time I roused myself to get out of bed and answer it, but it stopped ringing before I got there, never to ring again.

My night was in ruins, and I was still awake when my alarm went off at 7 a.m. As is the nature of these things, I then fell into a deep sleep, only to waken in the middle of a vivid dream at 8.15 and as I have already said, made the meeting with seconds to spare.

After the meeting, I met with my sponsor over coffee and related the events of the previous day.

Dave’s ex wife called me yesterday morning with the news that Dave had started drinking again. This was a shock, for although I feared he may well start drinking again one day, I thought that the day was still a long way off.

Ever since he had collapsed in a coma and rushed into hospital a couple of months or so back with a cracked liver, I had been in contact with Dave on a more or less daily basis. I had rushed to Bangkok at the time of the emergency, visited with him in hospital, and visited him regularly thereafter and called him every day when I didn’t see him.

As ever, he had made yet another remarkable recovery, although for a brief period the doctors thought that he wouldn’t make it this time. But make it he did, and as I have previously written, I cannot help thinking that there must be a Higher Power out there somewhere, who for some strange reason, is keeping Dave alive.

Recovery was slow but sure, and after he was discharged and went home, he gradually got his health and his strength back, and even started working again. With Bob, my friend from Australia, I met Dave when he was still recovering and in a weak state, and told him that we would be supplementing his income with a small monthly allowance, and that I would be taking care of the renewal of his retirement visa in Pattaya, as soon as he was fit enough to travel.

We reiterated what the doctors told him that if he took one more drink he would be dead, as his liver was shot and couldn’t take another drop of alcohol. Dave assured us that he completely understood the position he was in, and promised us that he would do his utmost to never drink again.

We suggested that if he drunk again then we would cut the money off, but he became very agitated and accused us of “blackmailing” him, and putting him under undue pressure, so we said no more about that.

So over the past few weeks I have been talking to Dave on a daily basis, and occasionally visiting with him in Bangkok. The last occasion was the Wednesday before last, when I passed through Bangkok on my way to Phnom Penh for a week. I met with Dave at lunch time and we had a meal together at one of his favourite restaurants. He looked incredibly fit, had lost some weight, and I was pleased to note that his appetite had returned to normal. He seemed very happy and content, and told me he was busy working in his recording studio, and we had a very pleasant lunch. I took him back home, and one last cup of coffee, before setting of for Phnom Penh.

I did not call Dave when I was in Phnom Penh as he had seemed so happy and fit that it just didn’t seem necessary any more.

So yesterday the call from his lady came like a bolt from the blue. She told me he had been drinking since the previous Sunday and was in a very bad state. She said he had been defecating and urinating all over the house and was currently lying on the bed in a mass of feces. Naturally, she sounded very distressed and asked me to go to Bangkok straight away and somehow get him back into hospital. I tried calling Dave but his phone was off, so I called her again and she put me onto Dave.  Dave was extremely drunk but he managed to tell me that he had only been drinking for 2 days, and that he had already stopped. A few minutes later, his lady called back to tell me that he had been lying to me and that he had been drinking for 6 days and was still drinking. I told her I would call her back after I had spoken to his doctor friend who had always taken charge in these circumstances. I couldn’t get hold of the doctor, so I called her back in the afternoon to tell her this. She reported that Dave had finally passed out but that he had behaved very badly, had shouted and abused her and his bodily functions were still out of control.

After this, I spoke to some of my friends in AA to get advice on what to do, and then called Bob in Australia, and eventually made contact with Dave’s doctor friend. Everyone was telling me the same thing. Do nothing. They told me that we had all done enough, if not too much, and we were only propping him up and enabling him to keep on drinking. I was told that his only hope for survival was for him to reach his own “rock bottom” and then genuinely reach out for help. If he continued to refuse to stop drinking, go to hospital or accept the help of AA members then it was all over and there was nothing more we could do. It was time to walk away, as he was only dragging ourselves into his own misery and “using” us.

Finally I called his brother in England and recounted to him the situation. I told him that the likelihood was that his brother would die if he didn’t stop drinking soon, but that we could do nothing more for him. He thanked me for the information, accepted and agreed with what I had told him, and asked to be kept informed.

So I called his ex wife, and told her that I would not be coming to Bangkok and the reasons why. I also told her that she must make her own decisions on what she should do, and if she decided to leave him, then no one would blame her. She had already been used and suffered far too much. It was time to put an end to it one way or another. She told me that she would think about it, and that we would chat again the next day – today.

When I related what had happened to my sponsor today, he was vociferous in his condemnation of Dave, told me that not only should I refuse to  go to Bangkok now, but that I should never go to see or help Dave again. He told me that Dave had been using us all, and that he had been very selfish, and we had our own lives to live and must leave him alone to come to his own conclusions on whether he should live or die. He knew the options, and no one could decide for him.

I made my final call to Dave’s lady, and eerily she asked me when I was coming to Bangkok as she couldn’t cope any more. It was as though we hadn’t had the earlier conversation. She told me that Dave had slept fitfully, and was now drinking again. It was 10.15 a.m. I reminded her that I had already stated that I would not be coming, and told her the reasons very clearly. I also told her that she should consider her own situation very carefully as she was suffering and she was only prolonging the inevitable by staying around and being his servant. She told me he couldn’t even go to the bathroom by himself. I said that when he’s run out of booze, and sobers up, he will be able to make it to the bathroom, and that she should leave him to it. She said she would think about it and let me know if she decides to go.

As of 9.30 p.m. I have not received a call from her, so I can only assume she is still with him. That is her choice.

I have no idea how this will all turn out, but of course we all fear for the worst.

It must have been at least 15 years ago when this wretched business first started – Dave’s first dice with an alcoholic death that had us all rushing to Bangkok from all corners of the world, paying his hospital bills, setting him up in business, buying all manner of things for him, and generally supporting him and urging him to change his life around. And it has been happening regularly ever since. The only difference is that his circle of “helping friends’ has got smaller and smaller and now that circle  consists only of Bob, me, and his doctor friend. All his other countless friends and acquaintances have long since abandoned him, in the certain knowledge that it would all end in misery.

I don’t know why it has taken all this time for me to see this, but I have no regrets. I did what I did because I wanted to, and in spite of everything I still love the old bastard. He is more than a brother – he is a soul mate, and when he goes it will be one of the saddest days of my life.

But I have to desert him now, because it is the only hope left for his salvation.

Please God, that he sees the light in time.

Today I have been sober for 89 days.

Today I have been distracted and preoccupied with some distressing  news from Bangkok.

My alcoholic friend Dave, the one who by all accounts has had more lives than the average cat, has lapsed, and is in a very bad way.

I have spent most of the day in telephone conversations with his ex wife, his friends in Australia and elsewhere, his doctor, some of my AA friends in various parts of the world, Dave himself briefly, and finally his brother in the UK.

I have serious doubts whether Dave will recover from this this latest descent into madness, and this may well be the beginning of the end.

I will report more tomorrow on the background to this and how I plan to handle the situation.

Today I have been sober for 88 days.

My first night at home, and my first morning back at my daily AA meetings after a ten day break.

I was given a more rapturous welcome than I had thought possible, and was somewhat taken aback. They really are a very good-hearted, well meaning bunch of guys there, and I have no doubt that without them I could have never remained sober this long, and have started to change my life around.

During my “R & R” in Bangkok and Phnom Penh, I was a naughty boy and failed to go to any meetings, despite the numerous daily meetings available in Bangkok, and the offer of being taken to the daily meeting in Phnom Penh. Maybe I was worried that I would repeat my lapse that occurred when I went to Chiang Mai and got a bit upset in the meeting there. Anyway, I made it back to Pattaya in one piece, although I must confess that on my way to the meeting this morning I got angry in the traffic, which was the first time I have done that in many a week, so I guess I arrived back in the nick of time.

‘Peace and serenity’ is the name of the game, and I must continue to remind myself of this essential rule for recovering alcoholics.

Now I will continue with “Mobi’s Story.

MOBI’S STORY – (PART 18)

THE RETIREMENT YEARS.

It was the summer of 2000, I had just turned 54 and I was now a fully fledged retiree, cut off from my employer of some 18 years, without much idea what the future was going to bring.

For sure in many ways I was very fortunate. I had been given a very generous retirement package, which effectively kept me on something close to my full salary until I reached my 60^th birthday, I had accumulated a considerable sum in my non contributory, defined contribution, pension scheme,  contributions to which would also continue until my 60th birthday.

On top of this, for the past 10 years or so, I had resisted the temptation to “upgrade” my standard of living  and embrace the extravagant lifestyle to be more in keeping with my city peers. So whilst my family and I had never wanted for anything, we spent our money carefully and frugally, which meant that we now had a considerable sum sorted away in investment portfolios.

We still lived in the second house that I had bought in South Essex, (having sold the first one in 1988), a large 3 bedroom detached house at the end of a quiet, leafy cul- de -sac, with garage, a large garden, and within walking distance of local shops, a large Tescos, and importantly for me, the railway station. This saved me a lot of money, as several years previously I had given up driving to the city as I was in dread of getting caught drink driving after a few narrow escapes, and once I decided to commute by train, I was able to dispense with my second car, and the family could use the limo provided to me by the company.

Another factor which persuaded us to stay in the not so fashionable area of South Essex was the fact that my youngest daughter had succeeded in passing the ‘11 plus’ and had won a place in one of the top performing grammar schools in the country – Westcliffe High – only a short bus ride away, and which saved me a fortune in school fees, as I would never have let her attend one of the dreadful State ‘comprehensives’, that now blighted the education system throughout England.

We were perfectly comfortable there; as we had upgraded the premises to a very high standard; we had made a number of good friends, so  there really was no need to move.

But during the months leading up to my retirement, I started to get the “moving itch”. Although we had been happy in South Essex, I somehow didn’t feel I want to spend the rest of my days there. I had a hankering to move to the countryside, and on this particular fancy, I was surprised to discover that my wife supported me.

We started to look around for possible locations, and following a trip to East Northamptonshire to meet with a work colleague who lived there, we fell in love with a large three bedroom bungalow in one of the prettiest villages I have ever seen.

East Northamptonshire generally seems to be one of the forgotten ‘jewels’ of middle England, and has dozens of beautiful villages which easily rival the beauty of villages in such places as the Cotswolds, but for some reason, are not so fashionable. more importantly, as far as I was concerned, East Northants properties were not so expensive.

The properties in the village we wanted to move to however did command a bit of a premium, due to the outstanding beauty of the village and the consequent desirability of living there. The bungalow came with a large parcel of land, the back of which looked out onto open countryside, and the front ran down to a genuine babbling brook which was lined with weeping willows, sycamores and other towering trees, both deciduous and evergreen, of ancient vintage.

We spent a number of weeks haggling with the American owner, who worked at a nearby US air base, as he was desperate to move following the tragic death through illness of his wife. The deal was finally done, and we took possession of the house some six months prior to my retirement. Then in a strange, unexpected “reverse” sort of deal, we then rented the house back to the previous owner for a couple of months or so, as it suddenly transpired that he had  nowhere to move to, and the US government was very generous  in rental arrangements for their employees.

We finally had vacant possession about three months before my retirement, and we started to travel there on weekends to make arrangements for re-decoration, renovations and extensions to be built etc, so  one way or another, the period immediately prior to my retirement was packed with activity.  I had the new house to sort out and all my detailed planning for the family trip across North America, which would commence within days of my ceasing to work, and last but not least I had to sort out schooling for my daughter, which eventually resulted in her being accepted for admission by one of the major “Public Schools”,(for “non-Brits”, read ‘private schools’), in the area

In retrospect, this hive of activity probably masked or put out of mind the real issue of exactly how I would handle my retirement, once all the pieces of my new family life had been put into place.

Our subsequent “retirement” holiday, in the Summer of 2000, rudely awakened me to what lay ahead, and the prospect was not something I was looking forward to. In fact by the time I returned to the UK, the looming retirement years  was a prospect I was starting to hold with foreboding.

How this holiday gave me a “wake up call”, I will recount in my next blog.

Today I have been sober for 87 days.

Here is a short update in response to those who have urged me to try and write a little every day.

Tonight I flew back to Bangkok, met up with my new girl friend at the airport, (she had just flown in from Surat Thani), picked up my car which was parked in the airport car park, and drove back to Pattaya.

The condo was still there in one piece after my 10 day absence, and I must say it’s good to be “home” and it’s even better to have someone here to keep me company.  On a previous occasion when I went away after leaving my wife, and subsequently returned to Pattaya all alone, the yearning to go home and make another go of it became  irresistible.

This time I have my little lady to keep my mind off things, and it’s all working well. I will hold strong this time.

Yesterday, my appointed “go between” finally met with my wife (after she had postponed the meeting several times as she was still in Bangkok getting drunk)), and negotiations are proceeding in a positive direction.

More tomorrow.

Today I have been sober for 86 days.

MOBI’S STORY – (PART 17)

THE INSURANCE YEARS (CONTINUED)

At first, my involvement with my ex employers, post retirement, went as planned. A week or so following my official retirement, I took my family on a six week tour of Canada and the USA, and shall write more about this later under “The Retirement Years”

Following my return to the UK, after my little odyssey with my family across North America,  I made a few trips to London to attend some meetings in my role as a non executive Director, and also wined and dined socially with my ex boss and other colleagues. I was advised of all the latest gossip, and my opinions were sought on a number of operational matters that required urgent resolution.

I have not previously written about my ex boss’s stormy relationship with the CEO in the Head Office. It could be best described as a “love-hate’ relationship.  My boss was hell bent on forging ahead with our European expansion at breakneck speed, with all the attendant risks that such a strategy involved, wheras our CEO’s desire was to move a little slower and consolidate our position as we went along. But the conflict was more than just a difference over the pace of expansion – it was more fundamental than that. My boss, and I suppose myself and the rest of the European team, were a bunch of “young Turks”, determined to make our mark, and we were intolerant of anyone who got in our way, or in any way seemed to be impeding our progress.

Every stage of our recent expansion; every acquisition; every new, “high flying” member of our management team that we recruited, was the subject of a major battle of wills between ourselves and our head office masters, and in particular, between my boss and the CEO.

As early as the reorganisation of the company’s Irish operations, some years back, (which I have previously recounted), had been the subject of bitter disputes between us and the head office Directors, as they felt that the action we had proposed was far too radical, and that the rationalisation and forced retrenchment of senior Irish staff was unnecessary. In the event, we won the day, and subsequently proved that we had made all the right moves, as the relocated Irish operation was now booming.

So we had proven ourselves over and over, had contributed significantly to the Group’s bottom line profits, and in effect were “riding high” – so high in fact, that my boss was being mentioned in various circles as a potential candidate to become the new group CEO in due course. One way or another, my boss and I had become a force to be reckoned with in the Group, and anyone who dared cross us had better watch out.

I suppose you could say that we had become very arrogant, and probably “too big for our boots”. We were both very tough, outspoken characters, who wouldn’t shirk from making unpleasant decisions and seeing them through, and this attitude even applied to various Head Office employees who met with our disapproval. Our recent major acquisition had effectively doubled the size of our European operations, and whoever headed up the new combined entity would be a very powerful person indeed.

Personally, I had a good relationship with the CEO, had never had any major arguments with him, and often became the mediator between him and my London boss – effectively the voice of reason – whenever things became too heated.

So during one of my early visits to London following my retirement, my ex-boss recounted to me how he had been having a terrible argument with the CEO over a number of critical matters, and that he was getting to the end of his tether as he couldn’t seem to persuade the CEO to see things his way. He asked me if I would be prepared to intercede on his behalf during a a forthcoming visit by the CEO to London which was scheduled for the following week.

Of course I said I would be happy to do what I could to press his case.

So I duly came to his offices the following week, only to find not my boss, but the Head Office Human Resources Director in his office, in a huddle with the CEO. My boss’s secretary was in tears, and I immediately guessed what had happened. By way of confirmation, the HR man came out to say hello to me and then told me that they had just completed negotiations and had agreed a termination package for my boss, who had already cleared his desk and left the premises.

The CEO saw me sitting outside and invited me in for a chat. He was almost apologetic in explaining to me that he had been having a lot of trouble with my boss for a long time. That the arguments had become increasingly vociferous, and that my boss had descended into shouting tantrums and screaming insults, which, he said, were just unacceptable.

Who could argue with him?

So the dirty deed had been done, and we were continuing to discuss the matter, when he was distracted by an urgent incoming phone call, and I was asked to leave the office.

That was the end of my meeting, and that was the last time that I ever went to my ex employer’s offices.

Once he had “tasted blood”, the CEO wasted no time in consolidating his position and getting rid of all vestiges of the previous European team, and putting his ‘own’ people in their stead. There had been a market announcement that my boss had left by ‘mutual agreement’, and that the pace of European expansion would slow down considerably, and the next few years would be spent in ‘bedding in’ the new acquisitions.

But everyone in the market knew the truth. That my boss had become to arrogant and too much of a challenge, and that something had to be done if the CEO was to survive. We had grown the business to an unbelievable level, and our job was done, and  were now superfluous to requirements.

Over the next few weeks and months, there was a mass clear out and dismantling of the management team that my ex boss and I had so painstakingly built up during the previous 16 years

Week by week I received news of yet another senior manger who had faced the chop, and still others, many my close friends, decided to go before they were pushed.

After a couple of weeks the Company Secretary  contacted me by mail  with a request that I tender my resignation from all the European Boards, and had conveniently attached a number of undated resignation letters for that purpose. It served no purpose to resist, as if I declined to resign, I would simply be voted off at the next meeting.

So my last act for my final employer was to sign a raft of resignation letters.

Later, when the dust had settled, I came to the conclusion that the single act that precipitated this “day of the long knives” was my decision to retire. Together, my boss and I had been a formidable team, and it is true to say that most people in the company were in fear of us, and that included the CEO. We held a lot of power, we had the unswerving loyalty of all the key employees, we were very tough in our dealings, and we had an enviable success record.

While I was there, I was able to counsel my boss in his dealings with the CEO, and make sure that his rants did not go too far and that discussions and disagreements were kept civil. But as soon as I left, things clearly got out of hand, and the CEO was somehow able to divide and rule, once my boss had become vulnerable without me there to counsel and protect.

(One of the CEO’s first acts after firing my boss was to appoint one of the newer members of the management team, who did not know us well and would subsequently have a lower level of loyalty, as the temporary CEO of European operations.)

I was probably very lucky to get out before the axe fell, and receive the generous retirement package that I now had. But who can say whether any axe would have fallen had I not made the decision to retire? No one will ever know for sure.

It was with increasing sadness that I reviewed my career and it’s unfortunate conclusion. I had been obliged to precipitously sever all contacts with my employer, and I was dumped into the world of retirement without a clue as to what I would do to fill the yawning, empty years ahead.

Today I have been sober for 85 days.

Yes, I know, I haven’t written for 3 weeks, and some of you have assumed the worst: that I have fallen off the wagon, that I have returned to my wife, that she has had me ‘bumped off’ or I have “topped myself” and goodness knows what else.

Well sorry to disappoint the more macabre amongst you, but all of the above is pretty wide of the mark.

The truth is pretty boring, I’m afraid.

I have been soldiering along, staying sober, trying to deal with my new life, sort out my old life, and trying to keep my waves of depression under control, and frankly, just didn’t feel in the mood for writing my blog.

But the sheer weight of concerned messages I have received has convinced me that I had better get my act together and start blogging again.

We alcoholics are renowned procrastinators, as for most of our lives we would always turn to booze rather than face our responsibilities and even just to do our daily chores and duties. I don’t know about others, but for me, once I have started to do something, I am fine and will usually see it through to conclusion. The problem is making the mental effort to begin. Like now – this blog. I have wanted to start writing again for many days, and every time I think about it, I make an excuse to put it off for yet another day. Today, I don’t really know what happened, but I finally made that mental leap, and I am now a ‘happy camper’, blogging away without a care in the world.

So what has happened since I last blogged?

I am now fully settled in to my new “nest”, have bought some additional pieces of furniture, have sorted out all my files and other personal stuff, and last but by no means least, have moved a little ‘house mate’ in with me to keep me warm at nights.

So now it’s a “love Nest”.

Yes I know, I made a resolution to live alone for a while, but I was getting very lonely and very depressed, and when I found this little darling, I decided that she would be therapeutic for my mental state, which has more than proved to be the case. I am sure I will write more about her later, but for now, suffice to say that she is totally different to every woman I have ever lived with before, inasmuch as she is quiet and sensible (not feisty and fun loving), is very careful with money ( not treating me as an ATM machine), has few, if any friends, hardly ever uses the phone, and just generally seems to be what I should have found 40 years ago. She is very intelligent, a good cook and home maker, doesn’t smoke or drink, hates Thai soaps, and prefers to read books, thinks most Thai pop songs are unoriginal, repetitive and boring and prefers foreign music, and so it goes on…..

I am taking this relationship a day at a time, and if at any point I get the familiar warning signals, she will be out of the door in a flash. I will have absolutely no sentiment this time round, and I have no intention of ever getting married again.

But in the meantime, she is making me happy and helping me to forget all my bad experiences, and maybe most importantly, being with her has helped me to lose the remnants of any feelings that I still may have harboured for my errant wife. And course, having a “live-in” has kept me out of the bars and other “night spots”, (which she doesn’t like to go to) and also helps to ease the strain on my bank account.

On the wife front, after a few hiccups, things seem to be progressing slowly but surely in the right direction.

I previously wrote that my wife had agreed to use my friend’s wife as a ‘go between’ to discuss the disposal of the marital assets. Then I received a short, very rude reply to my email proposal, and I responded to the effect that if she couldn’t write in a civil matter, then forget about it, and told her: “Goodbye, have a good life!”

I also received the message, via my friend, that she was no longer prepared to use his wife as a “go between”, so I feared the worst.  Deja Vu. Anyway, as the last toss of the coin, I contacted another friend who is married to an elderly “Puyai” Chinese/Thai lady, who knows my wife, and who I know that my wife respects, and asked if she would take over the role of intermediary.

So against my wildest hopes, this seems to have worked and my wife is talking to the new intermediary, and has now answered my emails in a very friendly and polite manner.

There was another minor “blip” when my wife’s sister saw me in Pattaya with my new girlfriend, and duly reported this heinous act. The wife apparently went ballistic, but the new intermediary calmed her down, and told her that it was no more than could be expected and just get used to it.

But generally things are progressing painfully slowly, as the wife is rarely, if ever at home, choosing to spend all her time in Bangkok, doing God knows what, and keeps postponing a meeting that my friend’s wife has set up to discuss everything, which is currently re-scheduled for next Tuesday.

I am still attending daily AA meetings, and have also fallen into the habit of attending the “meeting after the meeting” at Starbucks, where I chat with my sponsor. He has approved my decision to move in a young lady in to take care of me, as he has seen how much happier I am now.

Most days I eat at home, and have even taken in a few movies, my first visits to cinema in years. (In recent years, I would never go with my wife, because she would always go for a meal after the movie, get drunk and end up making trouble.)

Last Monday I came to Bangkok with my young lady where we spent 2 nights, before she took off to see her family in Surat Thani, (her first visit in 5 years – the reasons for which I will explain later), and I flew out to Phom Penh for a week.

My trip to Phnom Penh is mainly for fun, but I have also met up with my friend, Bob, (who I have previous written about) and we are discussing some mutual business together.

During my 2 days in Bangkok, I met my friend Dave for lunch, and he has made yet another miraculous recovery. He looks remarkably fit, has lost a fair amount of weight, and his appetite seems to be almost back to normal. He hasn’t had a drop of booze, and he tells me is off all his medication, which included some very powerful anti-depressants. He is also back working in his recording studio, and has more money in his pocket than he has had for quite a while.

If anyone on this Earth has a “higher power” looking out for him, it is surely Dave.

Dave is worried about the forthcoming Christmas festive period, as this has been a time when he has fallen off the wagon in the past. His so called friends, always turn up around Christmas, and think they are doing him a good turn by exhorting him to get drunk at their expense, and Dave is worried that this situation will re-occur. So my friend Bob and I will try to counter this by getting together with Dave in Bangkok over Christmas, and maybe bring him down to Pattaya, and keep him away from his drinking friends and spend a non alcoholic Christmas with non-drinkers. It remains to be seen if this plan will transpire.

Bob has recently confessed that he lapsed for one night when a friend visited him at his home in Noosa, Queensland. He said he had two glasses of Baileys with his cigar. Of course, I was most concerned and reminded Bob, that it will be almost impossible for him to remain sober if he doesn’t have the support of an organisation such as the AA, and work through a programme like the AA twelve steps. He told me that he considered our daily Skype chat sessions as his ‘AA meeting’, and that I was his sponsor. Well, I am not too sure about all that, and am hoping that his lapse will not repeat itself.

He has also told me since we have been in Phnom Penh together that his abstinence from alcohol has been a huge positive step in his life, and he is now doing things that would have been impossible to do only few months ago. He is hopefully on the brink of a new job, which would have simply not been possible earlier in the year due to his heavy drinking.

So I will return to Thailand on Wednesday, and meet up with my new lady and thence back to Pattaya, to see how things are progressing.

Today, I have been sober for 63 days.

I have been “Happy Joyous and Free”, (well, “Free” anyway), for 17 days now, and I am pleased to report that I seem to have got over the worst of my depression, and in general terms I am still “hanging together”.

Today I put the last ‘touches’ to my condo:  tidying up internet telephone lines and other wires, installing alarms on the front door, and balcony patio doors, and generally putting everything away. The only thing now remaining to do is to give then place a thorough vacuum and clean up and it’ll look as good as it is ever going to.

Then I can start trashing it again.

Yesterday I installed a hose system on the balcony so that I could easily water the huge number of pot plants that I have out there. At the other end of the balcony to the water source there are a dozen large pot plants , and it was quite a burden to carry buckets back and forth. Fortunately the floor of the terrace is covered with artificial grass, so I was able to run the hose under the ‘grass’,  thus it is largely out of sight. This little project was sparked by the sudden shock I received a couple of days ago when I noticed that all my plants were dying, and at least two looked like they were dead! I had forgotten that plants need regular watering. Anyway I watered them like crazy, and I am pleased to note that even the “dead” ones are starting to show signs of life as a few fresh, green leaves are appearing on the water-starved, dried out stems, so maybe I made it in the nick of time.

Or maybe my “higher Power” chipped in with a helping hand.

In general teams my lethargy is still a problem, and I am not yet living the kind active of life that I would like to live, but I do feel that I am slowly making progress and hope that  it will come in time.

The morning AA meetings still remain the “cornerstone” of my day (and life) and they seem to keep me anchored to reality, and most importantly, get me up in the mornings.

However the evening meetings seem to have gone by the board for quite a while now, and for some strange reason I feel guilty about this. I know the folks there will wonder what has happened to me, and will be fearing the worst, so I need to attend at least one evening meeting to show them that I am still sober, and that I am still attending daily meetings, albeit not theirs. Every day, I resolve to go, and every day for one reason or another I fail to make it. And the crazy part is that I am now only ten minutes drive away. Maybe today is the day.

I hadn’t heard a ‘dickey bird’ from my wife since I left home, so a couple of days ago I decided to send an email to a friend whose wife is quite friendly with my wife. I simply asked him if he or his wife had  heard anything from my wife or knew whether she was at home, as I had sent a couple of sms messages to her, but hadn’t received any reply.

He replied the next day that my wife had been away but was now back home, and that she agreed to sell the house but had a number of questions and issues that needed resolution, and of course…. she was asking for money.

Since then, I have been involved in a round of email correspondence, using my friend and his wife as intermediaries, and am currently awaiting a reply to my proposal on the best way to get the house up for sale and the house expenses paid without having to involve my wife directly in handling the money.

So it is early days, and I am not getting too excited yet awhile. If she starts playing games, then I will just give up and leave her to it. My health and welfare are more important to me than the money to be gained from selling the house, and I will truly walk away from this whole affair if she tries to make it too difficult and starts prevaricating and arguing the toss.

It will feel so good when I can finally put this whole sorry episode behind me.

Tomorrow I will write the final episode of “The Insurance Years’, before rapidly moving on within the next few days to “The Retirement Years”.