Thank you all so much for the responses. Knowing I am not in this alone really does take the pressure off. My mother did not start drinking until I was 25 married and out of the house, and I did have a wonderful childhood. I go to her six months out of the year because she gave me life. There are five children in our family and we were not wealthy, but we did not know it. I owe it to her. When I am there, I cook healthy meals, force her to get out of the house, take her to the doctors because we do not trust her to drive and engage her in conversation. Don't get me wrong. The mornings are great. She use to go to Bingo everyday and then would not start drinking until about 4:00 when she got home. When my Dad died three years ago she stopped going to Bingo. I think she was going just to get away from him. He did not drink. Now with no Bingo, she starts much earlier. She says noon, but on Sunday it was 12:30 and she was already drunk. I said to her, why in the world are sitting at home drinking by yourself on a Sunday morning? She would not admit it at first, but I told her she was slurring her words and I was afraid she had a stroke. She then admitted it. I guess my biggest question is, Is it too late? Can someone that age who has been an alcoholic for the past 30 years stop? I do have three brothers that live close by and they do the best they can. Two of them are nondrinkers. The one who cares for her the other six months has a wife who is very involved in AA and she refuses to be around my mother because of the drinking. I think that is wrong, but whatever it takes for her to maintain her own sobriety is important. I refuse to buy her Absolute and she drinks about half a quart a day. There are bottles hidden all over the house. She also takes Ambien and if she can get her hands on some Percoset, forget about it. She lies to her doctors about drinking, yet I have told each one of them how much she drinks and they keep writing her the prescriptions. I think they think it is a lost cause. One of my most vivid memories of my childhood is when my grandmother was hospitalized and refused to eat so the doctor let my mother bring a six-pack. She died that night.