Unnecessary roughness

If it’s not one player, it’s another. Yeah, how far we have come.(1911 American football game.USPD/Commons.wikimedia.org)

The neighborhood consensus is that she’s selling the house off one piece at a time.

Addiction is a horrible thing.

She’s been in and out of rehab 4 or 5 times. Costs add up. All costs. 

The almost new stainless steel fridge was hauled off rocking in protest in the back of a not so new pickup truck. 

How do you live in a house without a refrigerator?

We don’t know. 

When she drives in, she avoids everyone – ducks inside, head down – Says she doesn’t remember who or what she said when to whom. 

Her son and his kid’s room furniture was picked up by her Ex. (Sadly, she previously fought for custody, but, now, this is for the best.) 

Jack, the dog is gone, too. More loss.

She was there for a while. Recently.

Trash cans appeared out front. The neighborhood makes sure the cans are put back up and not blown down the street; the yard gets mowed; and the door to door flyers pulled from the door.

People hesitantly touch base with the social worker, healthcare lady, or her younger sister when there’s a chance. (Always asking “Is there anything …?” Which is always answered with sad shake of the head.) 

And opens the front door when she pounds on it frantically weeping and whacked out of her gourd on drugs, alcohol or a combo at 2 a.m. saying she’s in trouble and can’t stop herself, “Please, please, help me”…and calls EMS for her as she collapses unconscious on the floor.

Another run at rehab. 

Another U-Haul rental loads up assorted pieces of furniture and household goods now and then.

You know how it is. Sometimes no matter how hard you try to keep your eye on the ball, it can always seem just a bit out of reach.(USPD/Commons.wikimedia.org)

There’s a really nice boyfriend who is in love with her. He has continually tried to help her. (“A lost cause. Run,” her former best friend across the street told him.)

Played sports with her son when she couldn’t. Fed the dog. Was always there when she came out “clean” once again.

He’s even stepped up to take responsibility for caring of her 6 month old baby. (The last thing she needed…). Even though the little one may not be his. Other vehicles would pull in after he left. Maybe finally had enough; he’s not been seen for some time. 

Then the lights stopped being on in the house at night. 

Last Thursday a couple of rough looking guys backed their open trailer into her drive.

“They’ve come for the patio furniture and grill,” I said. ‘Super Bowl’s this weekend.”

And that’s what they drove off with.

She’s an unexpected, unintended, collateral casualty.  

Of a very painful and serious injury. Of COVID isolation. Of far too easy to acquire illegal oxytocin and fentanyl on the street once the doc says, “No more.” 

We hope she has landed someplace safe.

The odds are against it.

Addiction is a terrible thing.

Full of unnecessary roughness.

No wining plays this weekend except in Arizona’s State Farm (As in state institution “Funny Farm”? That would be oddly appropriate for these times.) Stadium: a super distraction of gladiator pageantry. Full of sound and fury signifying nothing real.

Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge

Have to start somewhere. Trying to put a real human face on this game. A field of dreams with a goal of stopping the flow of illegal drugs across the southern border. Is that asking too much? The cost of human misery is so great.(Kidzet/Commons.wikimedia.org)