Michael O’Donnell hadn’t had a drink since the mid-eighties, and for good reason.
His wife, Brenda, said that had he continued drinking the way he was their marriage would have ended 30 years ago.
“I said I wasn’t going to put up with it,” she said.
“I couldn’t live like that anymore, it was too much. He was a nasty drunk. “
Thirty years later, now in his 70s and battling prostate cancer, Michael was on the brink.
Brenda had fallen seriously ill one evening and he had to rush his wife of 48 years into the Royal Melbourne. It was the final straw.
“I got back home and I was lost. I was alone and I just didn’t know where to turn," he said.
"I rang Beyond Blue. I rang a friend of ours who was in mental health but couldn’t get in touch with her. I rang Carers Victoria to see if I could get somebody out to talk to me, and I couldn’t.
“And that’s when I opened up the fridge and got a bottle of wine out.”
A visiting friend happened to come to the door and caught him just in time. The bottle ended up down the sink, “we had a bit of a talk and I thought I was alright.”
He wasn’t. Not only was Brenda’s prognosis grim, his own health had deteriorated markedly around the same time.
Diagnosed with prostate cancer in late 2000, he had been receiving steady treatment until it was discovered the lymph nodes on his groin had dramatically increased in size.
His first “blast”, as he calls it, of chemotherapy was on Monday 5 June.
The morning after the close call with the bottle, he kept an appointment to have a routine x-ray on his left knee at Werribee Mercy Hospital – the remnants of an old injury from his days playing for Oak Park under 17s.
“As I was walking out the hospital, there was an office there and I saw Harp (Hospital Admission Risk program). I walked in there and I asked if I could speak to somebody regarding mental health. They said, ‘who’s?’ And I said mine. “
“A lady named Bernadette came out and sat down alongside me. She said, ‘what’s the problem’, and I don’t think I got three words out. I just started crying. “
The decision to ask for help that day was the first step in getting himself well enough mentally to handle the battle that he and his wife are now facing.
It was also the first time he’d heard of the Western Bulldogs’ men’s health program, Sons of the West.
“I had a couple of sessions with Bernadette and one day she came in and said to me, ‘have you ever heard of Sons of the West?’ I said, no. She said, there’s a men’s group – I’ve been in touch with them and they have a thing of a Wednesday night in Werribee but, if you go along this Saturday, you’ll be able to sign up. Which I did.”
He’s a tough old bloke but he can’t help but get a little emotional when he talks about what the program has done for him in a short period of time.
“It was an incredible feeling to all of the sudden to have this network of support. I felt pretty lonely with Brenda being so ill – running in and out of hospital,” he said.
“It’s just been a success story, really. I really enjoy the company, the stories… It’s the best thing I’ve done in ages.”
When asked what may have happened to him had SOTW not come along he pauses for a long time. When he finally answers, his voice almost breaks.
“I hate to think. I really do because if I had of hit the piss again… the mind boggles. Brenda probably would have left me because she wasn’t going to put up with it anymore,” he said.
“I was just teetering on the edge and thank Christ I didn’t go over.”
To say Michael’s had a tough life is an understatement but his enthusiasm for the journey is back and he’s got a strong message for men who are thinking of signing up to SOTW:
“No maybe, get off your ass and go. For the benefits that come out of it - the mateship, the camaraderie.”
“But mainly, my message is you’re not alone in the world. Come down, we’ll look after you.”
