To get well again.

Here's the deal, dear Julie. The doctors have concluded that you are going to die. From the affects of alcohol. Unless you stop drinking. Period.  Already, there's liver damage. But it's not too late to heal.  If. If. If. Yes, it's a simple and rational decision. I want to keep you. As an alive friend. Not a dead  friend. You are of no practical use to your loved ones dead. We all prefer you to be very much alive and vibrant and congenial.  For a long, long time. Age 62 is far too young to die. Your Alzheimer-riddled father is still hanging in. Quite contented, really. Happier than you.  Ironic, isn't it? Anyway, it's been a godsend. That you fell. And conked your head. That brought you to the hospital.  Where you are getting the best of care. Medically.  Psychologically. Every which way. Long overdue. It should not have taken this long.  The good news, of course, is it's not too late. To be saved. From the perils of depression and alcoholism. I don't want to write you off. As a friend. But first, I insist. That you take the necessary steps to get well again.  --Jim Broede