In The Middle

Not my choice of places to be. Not looking to be placed there by somebody else. In this case, I'm firmly on one side, by a long series of choices by both of us, by personal beliefs and experiences, by loyalty.

I've written about one particular friend before, one I've known for many years now. Hers is another name you won't find here. I keep her privacy hers, though I blog about situations she is in on occasion. Today - well, yesterday actually - her husband was trying to put me in the middle of a situation.

My friend is struggling, really struggling. Many of the touchstones in her world are crumbling around her, and she hasn't the resources to cope any more. Not physically. Not emotionally. I've long been somebody she can call who'll listen to her, ask questions she may or may not be already asking herself, acknowledge her feelings and her struggle, and who doesn't find any need to place blame on her shoulders: she's got that covered.

Many of you would. One of her struggles, a much too chronic one, is substance abuse. I understand where she has come from, and I keep her secrets well. I understand the struggles she's faced, know when she's trying to cope and when she's just trying to escape. I even suspect sometimes she's looking for that permanent escape, though she won't admit it. Not out loud. Not yet.

She is a caring, creative, and trapped human being. Much of her pain is still unfaceable, some is incurable, most is destroying her. I rarely hang up the phone without wondering how long I'm going to keep hearing from her. But I keep answering that phone. She needs someone to hear her, someone to offer hope, someone to become honest with, someone to be a friend. She's had  more than enough people in her life since she was a toddler to point out her shortcomings, real or imaginary. She needs somebody to help her find what is good about who she is. I'm lucky enough to be there most times when she reaches out, available to listen when she needs it, strong enough to bear up under her worst.

I'm sure the worst hasn't arrived yet. It's getting close. Her body is failing in increasing ways, and so are some of the people around her. That's not just by their choice. In the same day, she learned one friend succumbed to stage 4 melanoma while a sister just got diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer. A special needs child is facing possible jail time while the therapist is desperately working to find a group home placement instead where there is some chance of literal survival, which would be much less likely in jail with age 18 being just weeks away. Her world is growing narrower, more limited, just when her support people are being lost.

And yet, we plan to get out together when possible once I'm back up in the neighborhood. She assures me her wheelchair is easily manageable, and we can get out to see sights she is no longer able to get herself to and family doesn't see the need to bother with. Doctor appointments, sure, that's duty. But we two could watch the river roll by, see a garden, find a whole sky full of clouds at sunset. I wonder if that will happen, but don't share those fears with her. She's aware, but clings to hope of better moments. Possibly even better hours.

So why - how - am I in the middle? She and I talked several times yesterday. Her calls are often short, the next crisis or her stamina or a responsibility frequently interrupting. Usually she doesn't call back, but yesterday was particularly hard. And she was coping by drinking. I could tell it by her slurred speech at times, the trailing off and losing what she was about to say. When I do the latter, which I do less and less these days, it's blamed on anoxia during the worst of my cardiac issues. But I'm attuned to the symptom, and she's usually much sharper than that. Drinking was a definite possibility. I didn't challenge her on it. She had other things she needed to talk about.

Around suppertime, her husband called me. I usually try to dodge his calls. When he called a second time within a few minutes, I decided to answer, thinking he might have really bad news, a call she could no longer make. But that wasn't it at all.

First, he informed me he had been drinking himself - total turnoff there for me, folks - but wanted me to be sure to know that she had been drinking also, all day. Furthermore, he immediately told me - not asked, told - that I needed to call her up and "settle it". In subsequent conversation, it turned out that he thought I had control over what she did, and some power getting her to stop. It was my job. He couldn't do it because she was officially a vulnerable adult, and anything he could do would only get him in trouble.

What the hell is in his list of possible solutions?

Since he'd informed me she'd gone to bed for the day, I asked what he wanted me to do. Steve and I were getting ready to head out to the pool, and I wasn't really anxious to spend time trying to wake her and "settle it" or whatever. Not that I said that to her husband, other than to mention we were getting ready to go out. He allowed as how I could/should call her in the morning and somehow fix things.

Me? Designated supreme being? Golly! 

When he started whining that "everybody" blamed him for what was going on, I stopped him. I asked him point blank whether he understood he wasn't making it any easier on her to stop when he drank in front of her? I didn't add the part where he tended to insist she keep him company in that behavior, or in doing drugs, and that I was aware of a long history of that behavior. I also asked had he considered resuming couple's therapy with her, something done once before and being talked about again recently. He instantly disavowed any and all responsibility in her behavior, and started listing her faults and failings. That in contrast to his heroism, his struggles in dealing with her. This wasn't the first time I've wondered how addicted he himself is, though he's totally in denial that he has any problems. She's  got the problems.

I wasn't about to listen to that. I've heard it before. I know her failings. I also know that recovering alcoholics/addicts have a much more difficult time when tempting situations are thrown in their faces, much less made a point of with joining in as equating to love and togetherness. He doesn't get it, not addiction, not recovery, not anything except, apparently, his own desires and total lack of responsibility for her behavior.

Yes, I know he doesn't force whatever on her, literally. But he regularly does the opposite of helping, and does it repeated and flagrantly. This is why he's not my favorite person. The phone call ended quickly with his "instructions" to me to call his wife in the morning and ... what exactly?  His putting me in the middle had earlier impeded my ability to listen to him. I'd already gotten his gist.

My hour in the pool was a great cooling off period, literally and emotionally. I'd though I needed to vent, to seek advice as if I actually could be a fixer of some sort. Exercise and conversation with another new person about places to go and see now that she's a new snowbird were enough for my wellbeing. In the event, the next morning went somewhat differently than any expectations I might have developed.

She called me, not yet 5:00 AM our time, two hours earlier than her time. I happened to be both up and next to the phone. It was brief. She asked what he'd said to me and I summed it up in about 20 seconds. She apologized to me for drinking and I told her I'd suspected it, not feeling it was my position to scold her. She was already telling herself the same things. I added that he just didn't get it, did he? It's not even the third time we'd had that discussion, so there's a kind of shorthand in there where we know what the other is referring to. She thanked me for the information and hung up.

It's been a quiet day since.