I’ve known ML since I was thirteen or fourteen when she
started dating my older brother. Her home life was tumultuous but she sure knew
how to have fun. She was cute, bubbly, and full of energy, a cheerleader and
loved being the center of attention. My first real memory of ML dates back to a
walk we took to a store two miles from our cottage when she explained in vivid detail
what happens when the birds and bees get together and make a baby. She thought
it was hilarious that: 1) I didn’t already know the facts of life and, 2) I didn’t
believe her.
The year my brother graduated from high school he and ML were
married in a lovely but quickly put together church wedding then they moved
into our cottage. It didn’t have central heat or indoor plumbing and it was the
middle of the winter. They planned wisely and worked hard in their early years
together. They bought a piece of wooded property, built a small house inside of
what would later become a two stall garage. Stage two was they added a
breezeway/temporary master bedroom. With their own hands and a lot of help from my dad
they went on to build stage three: a beautiful, two story house that was
finished several years after their third and last child came alone. ML was a hard worker,
a good cook and my best holiday memories stem from the parties at that house
on the curve. Half through their nearly twenty years of marriage ML went to cosmetology
school and opened up a hair salon in their former breezeway and she had quite a
following. From the outside looking in anyone would think they were happy, but
there was trouble brewing underneath---much of which, in my opinion, stemmed
from my x-sister-in-law’s dark childhood experiences that got in the way of her
placing full value on herself and her accomplishments and left a hole in her core that could never be filled.
Long story short, somewhere along the line after the divorce
ML got injured. Maybe it happened when she was working as an aid in a nursing
home---I don’t remember---but after a surgery or two she got hooked on
prescription pain medications and she got caught doctor shopping in four
counties who’d all write prescriptions for what she craved. She tried it all to
get clean---drug rehab, support meetings, counseling but it never
lasted for very many years before she’d find herself back in same cycle of addiction.
My firsthand knowledge during those years is limited because the only time I’d
see my x-sister-in-law was at weddings, graduations, funerals and baby showers,
but ML once told one of her daughters that she could convince any doctor she
had a condition that required a strong pain medication and I don’t doubt that. Who
would guess that an average, middle class working woman would lie about
something like that? But at least one doctor in very recent years plainly didn’t
care if she was. The number of overlapping prescriptions he wrote for her was certainly unethical if not outright criminal.
ML’s yo-yo of addiction and getting clean took its toll on her
over-all health and her family. Still, there was so much in her life that was good
and worthy of pride besides the fact that she and my brother produced three amazing
kids who she loved. ML could be funny, fun, compassionate and resourceful. She was smart and gave her full measure at any work or play situation she tackled. She also loved deer hunting, fishing, her dogs and chickens, her little house on a lake and her second husband. My x-sister-in-law was a complex person full of dichotomies
and it’s a darn shame her life story needs to include a chapter on prescription
drug addiction. It was a part of her, but not the whole of her…and here's what
society needs to understand about people who abuse pain medications: It can
happen to anyone and you could know someone right now who is hiding a secret life of addiction.
For me, I’ll remember ML warmly for those years when the
house was going up, when the kids were growing up and for holiday times when she filled their house with traditions and laughter. She was loved and my heart aches for everyone
whose life she touched...including my own. ©
