Posted by: jeanne | January 2, 2010

okay, full moon update

first, it’s no longer the full moon.  that’s the good news.

to recap, on the october full moon, my kid got robbed and roughed up by the boyfriend, to whom she went right back when he called to say sorry.

on the november full moon, my kid got beat up by the same boyfriend, and jim and i vowed to do something about it.

on the december new moon, my ex husband fell down the stairs while drug-induced sleepwalking (can you say ambien and xanax?) and broke his neck and both arms, escaping christopher reeve paralysis by sheer luck.

on the december full moon, my kid got violently ill (v&d) and had to go to the er for iv fluids, decided to screw the boyfriend, and then had the abusive boyfriend show up at her job with a fresh skank and my kid crying instead of making the rent.  and my ex decided he wasn’t going to stand for my abuse anymore, and left.

that’s right.  the full moon happening is that he up and left, and there wasn’t anything i could do about it except act differently, which i didn’t do even tho i saw opportunity for acting differently.  in hindsight.

all new year’s eve, that is, all second full moon day, the ex and i drove around, getting films from the hospital, stuff from his house, picking up a building permit that otherwise expired at midnight, and seeing the surgeon about that arm.

at every opportunity he got out of the car.  he smoked freely while i was inside the hospital and the permit office.  he came into the house and trooped gaily up the stairs, plopped down in his chair in his bedroom, yanked open drawers, turned on his computer, did stuff.  then he marched downstairs and did more stuff.

at every opportunity he proved to himself that he was competent to manage on his own.  he proved to himself that he could finally get out from under the mean bitch of an exwife who laughed at his needs and controlled his substances and made life miserable.

when we went to the doctor, i implored the authority figure to tell the ex in no uncertain terms not to be climbing stairs, not to be working his neck to test his range of motion.  the doctor said that even a fraction of an inch of movement of those broken bones and his spinal chord would sever, and he would die, because severance at that level of the spine paralyses even the lungs.  and he just sat there smiling, but it was the smile that said i hate you all, and you’ll pay for the torture you’re putting me thru.

he didn’t listen once.  after we’d seen the doctor, and the doctor told him he could not take the brace off at all for any reason, he argued that the doctor had said indirectly that he could start taking it off immediately.  total denial.

he is scheduled for the left wrist operation on wednesday.  it’ll take an hour, they’ll straighten everything out and put a metal plate in, and he’ll be back with a new prescription for pain.  it’s not a long time from thursday to next wednesday, but he’ll be in a lot better shape by then.

but here’s what happened on the third day of the full moon, yesterday.  i was up and down all night, as usual, giving him a cigarette, giving him a pain pill.  he was up all night, as well, thinking he had to pee when only 100 ml came out into the pee bottle.  he wouldn’t hear of keeping the pee bottle by his bed, but had to get up and go thru the hassle of getting back into bed.  and i had to witness it all in case he fell again.  like the first night he was here, when he fell twice, and i had to miss santa’s night out at the clermont lounge.

while i was up he got all misty about the things we used to do when we were dating and married.  he talked about how when his cast was off he could rub my feet again, like he used to do.  he talked about how he could manage his own cigarette consumption while he was up and moving about.  and i said yes, we can do that, but when you’re in bed or sleeping, or it’s night time, they’re in my possession.  and it was still full moon, and i was still adamant he couldn’t handle cigarettes and a lighter yet (he can’t look down to see where he drops it when he nods off because of the medicine).

so i got up at 10 in the morning, and he was waiting for me, lurking and hulking.  i’ll take my cigarettes now, he said, holding out a bandaged and grimy hand.  and i just getting out of bed, and no coffee yet, i said just hold on a minute.  and it escalated from there.  i should have gotten jim up to mediate, but i said no cigarettes, and don’t make me be evil about it, and he said i’m going home, and i said go home but i’m keeping your drugs, and he said i want my guns and drugs and money…and my cigarettes now, and i said fuck off.

and he called his friend billy.  and he called the cops and told them i was keeping him prisoner.

so we got to talk to the nice policemen, who said that except for the cigarette issue, which i had a perfect right to enforce as i saw fit, i could not keep him from his stuff.

so billy showed up, and i turned his care over to his narcoleptic, drug addicted friend, who in fact knows more about the ex and drug interactions than anyone else.  and so they went back home, where there are two long flights of steps to fall down, and nobody to regulate how much narcotics he ingests, or how much xanax, or the sebutex he injects intermuscularly to really calm him down.

i give him two weeks, until the next new moon.  i got him to tell me, while we were waiting for billy to show up, how he wants to be buried – cremation and fertilize the roses, he doesn’t care.  he won’t be leaving me anything, of course.   he also said he wants to be turned off if it’s real paralysis, but i don’t have durable power of attorney.

he’s in the state of mind that congratulates him for escaping my grim torture, and allows him the freedom he needs to survive.  he’ll go right back to self-medication, which means over doing it by a factor of 2-4.  for example, he says that if he were going to do the oxycodone he’s been  prescribed recreationally, then he would do 4 of them.  where he’s now doing 1 every 4 hours for the pain.  for example, he bullied me into increasing his dose of xanax the first night he was here, and ended up sleeping sitting up on the edge of his bed, wandering, stumbling, falling.  in a word, sleepwalking.

but now there’s nothing to stop him from doing it at will.  and the cop said i could be arrested.  so i had to let him go.

so what happened to me on the full moon was that i had to shepherd my daughter thru the er, all the while tending to my ex drugged up in bed (thank god for jim picking up all my slack), then i had to schlep the ex around for the second day, doing the high stress and danger thing of driving and walking around and climbing with a broken neck, and then for the third day of the full moon, i had my patient yank all my purpose out from under me and leave me to a house filled with me and jim.

at first i mourned, because this step increases the likelihood of  his death.  but jim was jubilant.  it’s a great new year’s present, he said.  and this morning i woke up feeling much lighter, because i got a better night’s sleep (still getting up at any sound from my daughter downstairs), and because the ex wasn’t in the next room scheming how to get more cigarettes and drugs.

so, shall we list him in the celebrity death pool?



  1. Jeanne, I agree with Jim.

    The ex is a loser and he is abusing you too. Don’t let it happen anymore.

    I worry about your girl.

    Love Renee xoxo

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