Soar Like an Eagle, One Day at a Time
A Portrait of an Alcoholic
by
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I am, I know, because at a distance, some faint feelings are trying to catch me. There is pain, but where? It refuses to settle in any one spot. The odors, unidentifiable, elude me. I’m not sure where that sound is, within me or somewhere else. I am here, but where is here? Floating on billowing clouds that go on forever, they roll and toss me around as if driven by hurricane force winds. There’s not even a breeze. Where will I land? Will I? I can’t capture feeling, smell, or sound to know if they are mine. Please help me! I reach out, but fail to grip anything to stop my reeling. Not clouds at all, it’s quicksand. I’m swimming up from a bottomless pit of boiling, certain death. Have to get air. There are fireworks in my head. I clutch at the first thing touching my hand. What is it? I don’t know. The pain is everywhere, my head, eyes, arms, face, and chest. Where is it all coming from? What’s in my hand is soft, warm, feels soothing. A blanket. It smells like antiseptic. I know that smell. I’m getting closer. I hear shuffling noises and voices in the distance. Can’t understand them? A touch! No, fight back! Don’t let them get me! Stop! Get away! Can’t focus, are they calling my name? Can’t let him catch me again. "Where’s Bobby?" If I shake my head, maybe I can evade this fog and find him. "Bobby, Bobby, where are you?" Shaking my head hurts. "God, where is Bobby?" "Come on, Sarah, you’re almost awake." A lady’s voice, and she’s talking to me. My eyes hurt so badly, they won’t respond. "Where is Bobby? I have to find him." Someone touches my face. My head jerks back. The hand was warm, but it hurt. I’m not ready for touching. One eye flies open, but the other won’t respond. She’s in a white uniform, and I’m in an all white room. It all looks so bright. Maybe I’m dead. No, if I was dead it shouldn’t hurt this bad. "Where’s Bobby?" I mumble. "Well, you’re finally awake. Who is Bobby?" the lady in white asked. "My little boy. Is he here?" "No, I’ve heard nothing about a little boy." She must think I’m hallucinating. Not to many fifty-year-old women have a small child. "You’ve been asking for Bobby for over half an hour now. How old is he?" "He’s six. I have to find out where he is." The room keeps spinning. She finally walks around the bed, in full view. I don’t recognize her, but she looks like hell, like I feel. "Who are you? Where am I?" I tried to move, but there were tubes everywhere. "I’m an intern. I’ve been with you since they brought you in early this morning." She rubbed her eyes, yawned, then added, "It would be best if you don’t try to move around too much. This is the hospital in Summit. You just came out of surgery." My racing heart feels like it’s about to tear a hole in my chest. "Please get me a phone. I have to find my little boy." She’s watching the monitors and must see how upset this is making me, so she finally hands me the phone. All the tubes really are making it difficult, but my shaky hands finally, after two screw-ups, manage to dial the right number. The phone keeps ringing. Of coarse, His Highness would still be passed out. He won’t hear it right away, if he hears it at all. "Come on, damn it, answer the phone." Finally he picks up the phone. "HULLO." He sounds very drunk. "Carl, where is Bobby?" "I guess he’s in his room." He slurs. "Who is this?" "It’s me, Sarah." I said. "Where in hell are you? I didn’t know you were gone." "I’m in the hospital, Carl, and I just came out of surgery. Will you please go check on Bobby?" I pleaded. "I have to know if he is okay." I heard the clatter as he dropped the phone. It sounded like he either fell or knocked something over. Lord, I hope he doesn’t try getting Bobby up. I held my breathe. After what seemed like an eternity, he came back on the line. "He’s sleeping in his bed." "Thank God." I gulped some air. "Please, Carl, go back and get some more sleep. I’ll call you about noon." Hanging up, I know he will pass out again as soon as he hits the bed. Bobby will be safe if Carl just lets him sleep, but I have to get him out of there.
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About the Book
The story begins in a Northern Wisconsin resort area, and is told by Sarah Ann Bray Regent. She and her husband purchased a bar after he was injured in a bar fight. Good thinking! She was against buying a bar from the start. No one in their right mind would take over a condemned kitchen and try to make a go of it. She did it, though, and the business was booming. Her worst problem was the drinking, hers and his. After the birth of her last son, Bobby, at age forty-three Sarah decides to quit drinking. She hates the life they are living in the bar, Carl's mental and physical abuse, and her own abuse of alcohol. Ilka, a lady she has befriended, puts her in touch with Alcohol Anonymous. When she stopped drinking, the physical abuse and Carl's infidelity get worse. He beat her so badly in an angry rage that she is taken to the hospital by ambulance and almost dies. Carl is passed out drunk, while Bobby sleeps. After her release from the hospital, Social Service arranges a stay for her and Bobby in a small motel, they use as a safe house. Sarah uses the recuperation time to heal and think back on her life. She needs to find out why the alcohol she has always hated has become the center of her life. Each day while Bobby is in school, she relaxes, while healing, with her coffee and recalls her past. As she clears the clutter from her head, it becomes evident how she had fallen into the trap that had plagued her family for generations. Is she strong enough anymore to make it on her own? Her self-esteem and strength are at ground zero. Ilka spends as much time as possible with them. Their friendship grows and Sarah's strength returns. With very few resources she makes a good life for her son and herself, only to have her health fail. She and her son move back to Fennimore, in the southwestern corner of the state. This is Sarah's hometown and her family is close by. She learns that brain surgery is needed. Now she has three major battles, a battle with the bottle which is never ending, her health, and raising a teen-age son in a world that has moved ahead while she was lost in a bottle.
About the Author
Sarah
was born in Cuba City, Wisconsin and lived throughout the state her entire
life. She had three children, two sons and a daughter, from her first marriage,
none from the second and one son from the third. At the present time, she has
six grandchildren; five boys and one girl who are all graduated.
She
started drawing when she was old enough to hold a pencil. Her artwork was
interrupted by alcoholism at a very young age. It wasn't until after she turned
fifty that she began her struggle to escape
alcohol.
During
her life she has been an artist, cook, upholsterer, carpenter, caregiver,
seamstress, tree trimmer, and mother. At fifty-five she went back to school for
her Certified Nurses Assistance certificate. She even flipped burgers while
going to classes. Hunting and fishing were her hobbies.
Because
of health problems she returned to her hometown in 1994, and once again
returned to artwork in earnest. Since then she has done over one thousand
pencil portraits, many signs, and a one-hundred-eighty-seven-foot long mural.
Any challenge was hard to resist, so at sixty-five she took on the new world
and tackled the computer. While it is a handy tool to copy her artwork, she
also found a new love. Writing.
While
this story is fiction, it is based on Sarah's life. A resemblance to anyone is
purely coincidental.