Why cheap red wine is evil

OK, so it's not really my problem per se, but it is. It's Mom; she's drinking again. She's my primary caretaker right now. If something goes wrong, she's the person I'm depending on to get me out to Fairfax. I do everything I can to make sure nothing goes wrong, but I can't afford to take the chance that she'll be passed out drunk when my blood pressure drops or my temperature goes up.

It has occurred to me that I'm just paranoid, that I shouldn't make a big deal out of this, maybe it's just once; maybe it's just tonight. On the other hand, I've seen this happen before, all my life. It's the reason why I've generally been the caretaker.

I do not know what makes her unable to cope with life as it is, without some kind of filter; frankly, it's none of my business except when her lack of ability to cope interferes with my peace of mind.

I know I can't depend on my father, it doesn't make me love him any less, but I know exactly who he is. I know he's a major screw-up, and knowing that helps me to deal with him. I really thought Mom was happy-ish these days. I also thought she was willing to take on the responsibility of looking after me for a few weeks after the transplant. None of us expected the surgery to happen as soon as it did, and it's not as if she had a choice, but I probably could have hired some help if I'd known she was having trouble dealing.

I don't expect her to be superhuman, but I do expect her to stay sober. Now I have to figure out how to address this situation tactfully--read: without accusing her of anything.

I thought I was prepared for anything; think again.

before - after