“What day is it and what time is it?” my mother asked me during a phone call this afternoon.
She sounded garbled like she had been asleep for days on end and like she had a mouth full of marbles.
“It is almost 1pm on a Thursday,” I replied extremely aggravated and agitated.
“Has your daddy left?” she then asked me.
“He left this morning at 6am,” I told her brusquely.
“Mom?” I asked.
She said yes.
“Don’t stay in a Xanax haze the whole time dad is gone,” I said. “I want to do some stuff with you. We have plans.”
“I haven’t been taking any Xanax,” my mother replied very defensively.
“Mom, you can’t bullshit a bullshitter,” I replied. “I drank heavily for twenty plus years and I know all the tricks of the trade. How much have you had?”
“I took eight only because I can’t sleep without them,” she told me apologetically sounding more lucid.
“Get yourself sobered up and I’ll take us to go get a hamburger after Charlie brings my medications. It will be my treat,” I said. “And for heaven’s sake don’t take so many at one time. That’s got to be dangerous. You are prescribed three a day.”
Mom promised me she was going to get out of the bed and go read awhile and watch TV until she got back on her feet. She profusely apologized to me. She said she was extremely excited about going to get a bite to eat tonight.
In a perfect world, I would get the Xanax away from her and just give her three a day. I might just have to do that with my key to their house. She keeps them in her purse and would never know I was in the room she sleeps so soundly. She also keeps another stash in her closet in a red shoe that even my father doesn’t know about.
Photo Credit: http://www.sarkisfamilypsychiatry.com/xanax-brand-name-price
1 comment:
you sure you wanna take her xanax from her? you'd probably take some. addicts don't take addict's meds from them. johnny can do that. ain't your job.
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