The family curse
We have a family curse not unfamiliar to millions of Americans: alcoholism. Especially for the males on both sides of my family, the drink has really challenged the men. My maternal uncles came through it using the 12-step program. My father quit at age 76, cold turkey, after a cascade of serious health problems delivered the final ultimatum: quit or die soon. One aunt by marriage somewhat recently had and survived a liver transplant—which is fantastic. But my brother, Brion, is on a different and heartbreaking journey. As I write this, I’m at home in the PNW while my mom is at Brion’s bedside in a San Diego hospital based (inpatient) hospice. Things are so fragile. Time is short. I’m still processing what I’ve witnessed in the last few months and the progression to this present-day byproduct of alcoholism: hepatorenal syndrome (HRS) at end-stage liver disease from alcohol-related cirrhosis. Our family members got a crash course in all the processes, medications, terminology, treatmen