One for the Road.

(In Memory of My Mom.)

I

Waiting. That is what I am doing. Waiting for the treatment facility to call and tell me they have an available bed. Any day now.

I am terrified. Not terrified of treatment. I will excel in treatment. I always do. Not terrified of being clean and sober. Though I am certain I will face that at some point.

Twenty years ago I became the primary care giver of my sister Jeri. She had been diagnosed with inoperable lung cancer. I made it my business as a nurse to save her life. Had I concerned myself with being her sister things might of turned out differently. Jeri and her young son moved in with my daughter and I. You see, I was going to cure her. Save Jeri's life. If that doesn't sound like a surgeon with a God complex the condition doesn't exist.

I became unable to separate myself from what I did for a profession. A savior unto myself. No longer a sister, mother or daughter. When I failed to save Jeri in a very real sense I also died.

It would be easy to blame my addiction onto Jeri's death. That however is not fair or accurate. Her death however did become my excuse to remain dead myself.

Mom died two months ago. I have become the primary care giver for my father. Not that he is unable, he is very able. I am not able to separate myself though. I have stepped into the shoes of a wife. This is my terror. To become so enmeshed with my father that I will be unable to know where he ends and I begin. I cannot survive that again. Treatment provides me an excuse to be gone. Being a care giver an excuse to stay. Terror because if I leave and some thing does happen to dad I will hold myself just as accountable.

Terror.

Blessings.

Waiting.

II

Unmedicated. Interesting concept--don't you agree? I've been "medicated" on some kind of antidepressant for most of the last 30 years. The treatment center I am preparing to enter requires that I be stable on NO medication. So, I've been weaning myself off.

I like their perspective. Their perspective places more faith in God and less faith in the American pharmaceutical industry. A perspective that believes once I recognize the demons that are the causes of my emotional and mental undoing I will be able to confront them and they will disappear. I will be in a safe, structured environment with lots of support. I am not inclined to believe that I will spiral out of control--crashing and burning. I am concerned with how nightmares that wake me up screaming will affect the ladies around me.

Also of concern--possible relapse. I am horrified to know that my recovery is dependent upon my choices. I will excel in treatment. What if, though, after an entire year of sobriety, I choose to use? What if I cannot stay clean left to my own devices? Take away my will and my life oh, Lord Divine and make me wholly thine. No reservations. No cop outs. No holding back.

I thought my fellow NA groupies were going to string me up last night. We had several newcomers at the meeting. So new that they are unable to legally drive a car. Their parents dropped them off at the meeting.

My comrades in arms proceeded to tell these "youngsters" how fortunate they are to have an opportunity to recover while still so young. I cannot disagree. Anybody, regardless of age, is fortunate to have an opportunity to get clean and sober. Maybe it's just me. I deplore being singled out for any reason, no matter how good. Age is relative. I was "young" when I first started attending meetings. A mere 30 years old. I was a "youngster" sitting in the room with "old timers," men and women who were in their 70s. I was pissed off when they singled me out as a "youngster." I was pissed if for no other reason than they "got to use and have fun" for most of their lives. Why couldn't I--why shouldn't I--be allowed the same? They had great stories to tell about their using days. I needed that kind of experience, those kinds of stories. Quitting so young would leave me with a boring recovery story.

Its 20 years later. I'm not so sure I improved my story.

III

Nine More Days.

What I said previously about not being afraid of sobriety – not so true any more. I have a report to treatment date now – just nine days away. What if the last time I used is just that, the last time? I have it in my head that I need a farewell. To use one more time for the last time, it would be different this time. I would know from the get go that it would be my last use.

What if I go to treatment without a send off and really do get clean and sober? It doesn’t seem fair. I have to have some thing to remember all the good times by.

When I first started using I had two very close friends that I occasionally used with. Then I went to my first treatment center. I broke off a tooth while I was there and was sent to see a dentist. I had the dentist pull the tooth. The dentist wrote orders for a narcotic pain killer. That night I complained about my pain and received my medication as prescribed. It wasn’t the same though. There was no party, not even in my own head. I had no one to call and tell I scored. It was the first time my addiction let me down.

At this moment I am just as certain that I will find a way to use one more time for the last time as I am certain of my next breath. I’ll have to be smart about it though.

I like sleeping pills. Sleeping pills offer complete obliteration in just minutes. My problem though is that I always blackout when I take a sleeping pill. I take one then blackout and take the entire bottle.

I picked up a prescription for sleeping pills the morning of December 23rd. I woke up the morning of the 26th still thinking it was the 23rd. Missed Christmas entirely. There had been a blizzard on Christmas day I knew nothing about. I am told I called all the appropriate people and wished them a Merry Christmas. Or maybe they called me. I don’t remember.

Some time in February I used sleeping pills again, this time with some disastrous results. My mom had died just a few weeks earlier. My dad was out of town visiting my sister. I took my one pill to be followed some time later by the entire bottle. I remember nothing after taking that first pill. I am told that I called dad and threatened to kill myself. Dad called the police and had them conduct a welfare check. I apparently convinced the police I was fine. I then proceeded to call my psychiatrists office demanding to speak with Dr. Miller. When I was told I could not I again threatened suicide. The police were sent to conduct a welfare check for the second time. I had by this time completely blacked out and was unable to wake up and answer the door. An ambulance was called and while it was in route the police broke down the door to gain access.

The following day was the last time my daughter spoke to me. She was more than fed up, she was hurt. She gave me an ultimatum go to long term treatment, get clean and sober or never see or be part of her life again. Never see my grandchildren again.

Nine more days.

IV

I'm crashing fast. No meds in awhile now. Called the treatment center and they prayed for me. I guess feeling the effects of prayer can take as long as getting a working level of meds in your body.

I left a voice mail for my daughter. I hope she calls me back. I told her I need a word of encouragement.

It's been three hours, guess she's not going to call back.

My sister, Julie took my daughter to Dallas eight years ago when I got busted for writing my own prescription. My daughter found the love of her life in Dallas, married him and has been there ever since.

Even with all my faults I knew my daughter had a fierce love for me. Julie tried to come between my daughter and me a number of times. Julie has hated me for a long time. I told Julie I knew my daughter loved her but not to make my daughter choose between the two of us. I knew she would loose. In the end Julie hasn't make my daughter choose, I have.

V

I have decided that I am not going to treatment to get recovery. Recovery is what I do between relapses. I am going to be transformed. Transformed into the likeness of my savior. I am right when I say I am afraid that I will not be able to stay clean and sober. I never could. With the help of God all things are possible, even for me.

VI

In the past I have wondered how people have managed to put their entire life on hold to attend treatment for a year. Tonight I recognize that I have put my entire life on hold to avoid living.

Tonight is my last night on the outside of the treatment center looking in at change. God, make it my last night of being on the outside of life looking forward to more numb living.

Tonight I am not scared. I do not wish I had one more. I leave you eight days clean and sober. I leave you with peace and the assurance that I have made the right choice.

K.