The Hardest Thing I'll Ever Have to do...

Hello fellow bloggers, readers and passers by,

Many of you know how I feel about beauty pageants, friendship and the price of green bell peppers. But many of you may not be aware of my sheer hatred toward drug abuse. Memorial Day weekend for many is a time of celebration, remembrance and family get togethers. While Saturday was pleasant at my house, thanks to my wonderful sisters in law, nieces and nephew, mom in law and such, Sunday turned into hell on earth. 

On my way out the door to grab some hamburger buns for dinner, I see a missed call on my cell. Recognizing the number and remembering that my grandmother isn't aware of the difference between an old fashioned answering machine and voice mail, I listen to her chatter for a minute saying, "pick up if your there"... Only her tone was different... worried. Quickly, I focus my attention more to the message she leaves behind. "Call me back when you get this, I just got some news about Travis (my brother) and I need to talk to you."  Alright, nothing too bad. I think to myself, he probably got arrested again. He has a love-hate relationship with law enforcement in that he loves to hate them.  I call her back as I start up the van and it rings a couple of times. She answers with a distressed hello.  I ask her what's going on and she informs me that my brother has been taken to the hospital and that a family friend called her to let her know. 

OK, stress level increased just a little bit more. I figure, well, he probably got into a bar room brawl or BBQ gone wild. I call the hospital they would've most likely taken him to and find out... [Nurse]: He's stable. We need you to come here as soon as possible. [Me]: OK. What happened. [Nurse]: He is stable. [Me]: May I talk to him? [Nurse]: When I say he is stable I mean, he is intubated and can't talk but he is still alive.

**Exit floor from beneath me, lights blur my vision, heart skips several beats!**

Between the sobs of fear and sorrow, I ask her again what happened? [Nurse]: Apparently it was an overdose from the tox screen analysis. [Me]: What did he take. [Nurse]: His girlfriend said 15 Ambian and 30 Xanax.

You cannot begin to fathom the mix of emotions that coursed through my veins at the thought of my brother laying on a cold medical bed, a machine breathing for him. Fear for his life; Anger for his stupidity. Now, as I write this, I sob like a baby, tears flowing down my cheeks remembering his chest rising and falling as the machine pushed oxygen into his lifeless body. Remembering all the times he made me laugh. Remembering all the times he held my children and played with them. Remembering when his own children were born and seeing the happiness on his face.

Fast-forward >>>> Transferred to SEMO hospital in Cape, the tubes came out nearly 12 hours later. He was alive! He was breathing on his own... Discharged late Wednesday afternoon.  Long story short... He isn't seeking treatment.

Enter Second Round of Mixed Emotions!

Spoke to our mother today who is also a recovering drug addict and has been clean for 16 months with the help of Suboxone. I asked her if my brother was going into treatment. When she replied "No", I recognized that wasted tone in her voice. You've heard people talk when they are well lit... speech slurred just a little so as they sound sleepy. Memory a little fuzzy so as they can't remember short term stuff. She thanked me for taking her to get my brother yesterday... I didn't go to Cape yesterday. I was at work. When I told her I didn't take her, she said, "Well, how did I get there to get him?" I told her, "you drove (family friends) car". She replied, "Well, you know what I mean." Then she had the audacity to tell me she hadn't taken anything when I asked her. I've seen my mother abuse Soma's, which are muscle relaxers.  They make you appear drunk and lethargic, slow moving and you fall asleep fast when you abuse them and I believe her to be abusing them again. And possibly xanax... She has a prescription for those, but abuse is abuse whether they are yours or someone elses.

So, the hardest thing I'll ever have to do is say I can't keep doing this. I can't subject myself to this form of torture, even if it is for my loved ones. Unconditional love does not mean hating yourself. And I hate myself every time I think about how addicted they are. I hate myself because they are addicts and I'm not. Not because I want to be, but because they can't stop. They don't have a home or belongings or things that are theirs. They don't have it because they choose not to. And I feel guilty because I have these things.  I'm flesh of her flesh and blood of her blood and by God, I am no better. Why can't they change? They can't love themselves enough to WANT help! I can't watch my mother and brother destroy their lives. It's selfish of them to do it. How do I explain to my children what a funny guy their uncle WAS??? What a loving Grandmother they HAD??? How their life style choices caused me to resent every pharmaceutical company and pencil pushing doctor this side of heaven??? How do I stop the pain they've caused??? God knows how many nights I've laid awake crying and praying for him to help them. For him to put on their heart the desire to stop doing drugs. And tonight, I cry my last cry. I say my last prayer.

Because tomorrow, I will put the pieces of my heart back together. I will not worry about them because God heard my prayer. I do not have to repeat it to him every night, the same hum drum saga of the Kelley-Maxwell Drug Abuse... I claim their healing in Jesus' name and if he sees fit for them to come clean, they will through his power, not my begging. 

A few quotes to lift my spirits... and yours too, if you managed to read this entire blog!

"How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard."
"To die and part is a less evil; but to part and live, there, there is the torment"
"Only in the agony of parting do we look into the depths of love"