Member-only story
Alcoholism is a disease. There is no vaccine, chemotherapy treatment, or radiation that will cure or try to deter the disease. It is not a disease that can be found with an MRI or an x-ray. The disease can be deadly.
My brother died from alcoholism last week. This will not be the cause of death written on his death certificate. He died from the effects of alcoholism which included poison building up in his stomach, irregular breathing, and lack of air which required the use of a ventilator, and liver malfunction.
He spent three months in the hospital for treatment and two weeks in hospice. We were not allowed to visit him because of COVID19 until the last three days of his life. He was able to communicate with a limited amount of vocabulary. He knew we were there and could tell us our names. His body wasn’t functioning and neither was his brain. He was fifty-three years old.
He was the youngest brother of four. We were five and I was the oldest and the only girl. He was born the night before my twelfth birthday. He was the last thing I wanted for my birthday. My mom was in the hospital and I had to cancel my birthday party. My grandmother was staying with us and she had bought a pink and white sheet cake with pink ballerinas dancing on the top. Two days after my birthday, my mom brings a baby wrapped in a blue blanket. I wanted a baby sister.
