The way it should be.

I sat down. Yesterday. And chatted with seven troubled women. Troubled because they are living with alcoholics. Husbands and boy friends. And it made me think. That I would never want to live with an alcoholic. That is, for a sustained period. Instead, I'd insist on rehab. On recovery.  I would much rather live with an Alzheimer-riddled wife. To the end of life. To guide her through to a spiritual realm. I would love her true.  It'd be far easier for me to write off the alcoholic. Yes, alcoholism is a disease. But it can be managed. By a willing victim.  Almost cured, in a sense. But that ain't so with Alzheimer's. The dementia is going to get worse and worse. That's the nature of the disease.  No cure yet. I've had the good fortune of having never lived with an alcoholic. Always was at a reasonably safe distance. At arm's length. Meanwhile, I've been blessed. By having been care-giver for dear sweet Jeanne. Right up to the end. The way it should be. --Jim Broede