Saturday, February 5, 2011
Billy seemed sincerely grateful for the second chance and acted as though he truly wanted to contribute and help Eric around the house and with my care. Every night my son would sit with me and talk about anything and everything under the sun and before he’d leave he said a prayer and tell me how much he loved me and how thankful he was to be living here with me and Eric. I never dreamed he’d ever jeopardize that privilege again. He was helping to put into bed every night, learning my range of motion exercises, taking care of my cleaning my catheter site, helping in way possible to get Eric’s work done faster. He was even getting me out of bed in the morning and adjusting me into my wheelchair for the day. I was so proud of him and he and Eric were getting along famously. Eric was letting him play one of his guitars, letting Billy record his songs on our iPod nano and I was going to put them on my blog, facebook and Utube.
I never dreamed my son would jeopardize the life he had here again and I can’t help blaming myself for not being there when needed he most…as a child …as a teen …as a young man. Oh, I was there in body most of time when he was little and even in mind and spirit a good portion of the time. But there WERE times when I remember doing things so unfit I’m too embarrassed to repeat now and will save them for another chapter. I left his father when he 10 years old and didn’t want to take him out of school and into the city with me so I let him stay with my ex for four years. That was a HUGE mistake and as soon as came home from college and found out his Dad had him selling marihuana for him I was frantic and furious. Here is another parenting mistake I made, I gave Billy two choices: either move out to Mammoth with Eric and me or stay in Greensburg so you don’t have to change schools and make all new friends and live with my mother. Worst mistake I ever made as a mother I can think of. After all, this is the woman that raised me, my three sisters, my brother and my grown niece and nephew. There isn’t a completely sane one in the bunch including myself who spent 5 years in intensive therapy and has been on every psych med in the book at one or another for one condition or another.
But, I digress; let us get back on topic, Billy. Perhaps I’m avoiding telling the story because it’s so painful, maybe because Billy didn’t want me to write about his deep dark dirty secrets. I don’t know. But if writing this story helps ONE young addict get clean or opens ONE alcoholic mother’s eyes then so be it.
Eric knew before he opened his bedroom door that someone had tripped the booby trap. He had just finished a shower and finally dragged his aching feet up the stairs to get dressed. He went straight to the drawer where kept both his and my narcotic medication. There was a full month’s prescription of klonopin (90 pills) with more than 30 missing, 20 Xanax missing, both of these anti-anxiety medications called benzodiazepines (a very dangerous sedating medication), 4 Dilaudid gone and an oxycodone (both very strong narcotic pain medications) all missing. Eric had made certain to set every single booby trap to see if anyone entered his room but neglected to lock the pills up in his briefcase like he does every day after getting out just what doses we need for the day. He’s done it like just this long before Billy came to stay because of employee theft. Why he forgot that particular day one may never know.
Needless to say, neither Eric nor I was as forthright with our forgiveness. But I must admit Eric was STILL willing to give him one more chance until he got into treatment. But I was so angry about my klonopin I could barely look at him. I didn’t sleep that night, save for an hour or two, for fear he would overdose and die. But the very next morning the meds that Eric had left in my cup were missing.
(to be continued)