Way Over the Line

I’ll never forget the last time I saw my friend “Chuck.” He was in the hospital and went for a visit, having no idea how serious his condition was and certainly no idea that I would not see him again. We had worked together in the auto racing business for many years and I always like being around him, mainly because he was the life of the party.
I worked at a local short track, doing publicity and event promotion. Chuck worked for a local company and always had these wonderful; and a little crazy, ideas for promoting the product through events at our race track. It was fun. After the races were over, and long after the fans went home, the gang would still be in the main parking lot, drinking beer and telling stories. As the years wore on, I left the short track and he left that company and went to work for himself. He loved the racing business and decided to base his business on the sport he loved. I too had formed my own company in the racing business, so we always had something in common.
He was a terrific event man. He could take anything and make it a happening, and always, always with the beer and alcohol flowing. Every week he would have a public event and it was amazing how people loved to come out and see what was going on. It was a party every week. What I didn’t know at the time was that every day was a party for Chuck. I would notice from time to time that Chuck had a couple too many “pops” and he was tipsy, but I had no clue that his drinking was so far out of hand. Our businesses were complementary, so I was at most of his events, working the crowd. I wasn’t paying attention to Chuck. I look back now and see clearly all of the signs of alcoholism.
Over the years, he motto was always “party hard,” and as time went on, it took its toll on his health. The last time I saw him he was lying in his hospital bed, suffering from advanced liver disease. There was a nurse’s aide in his room, sitting quietly in the corner reading a magazine as we had our last visit. He was on the list for a liver transplant, but time was running out quickly.
The visit wasn’t long. We had a couple of laughs together and he excused himself because he was growing very tired. I told him I’d come back in a day or two. But his time was up. He died the next day.
Alcoholism may be self-inflicted, and some are more susceptible to it than others, but it is a disease that can be treated. Chuck didn’t get any treatment until it was way too late. His story is sad, but it’s a story that is repeated countless thousands of times because people continue with their addiction to alcohol and either refuse treatment, or shuffle in and out of treatment without receiving the necessary level of benefit. If you have any doubts over your own condition, or if you have concerns about some one you love, pick up the phone and call a local treatment center. Chuck was a young man. He should still be enjoying his business and holding his events.

Ned Wicker is the Addictions Recovery Chaplain at Waukesha Memorial Hospital Lawrence Center He author’s a website for alcoholism support:

Alcoholism-Support.org

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