But she takes it lightly. She'll swallow 8-11 of them in one go. She's found receipts in her car proving that she drove while she was sleep walking while on this stuff. She chases it with alcohol, calls me with panic in her voice, begs me to come retrieve her. Her pulse gets so low I dial the first two numbers for the paramedics and then stop because she's moving again. She had a good month or so, seemed to be on the mend. We had scoured her condo while she was away, removed all substances not prescribed by a doctor and took the rest of the Ambien which was prescribed by her doctor.
She's doing well. Then relapses. She calls, asks me to retrieve her. She calls again while I'm on the road and asks me if I have any drugs for her. I curse at her and hang up. I pick her up. She smells like the inside of a liquor cabinet. She has packed items for an overnight stay but isn't wearing any shoes. She didn't pack any either. She struggles with the seatbelt and I reach over and buckle her in. I stop on the way to buy her water. I'm careful to bring my purse with me so she won't find and swallow any of the pills I keep in my bag. She passes out on the patio and we leave her there. We let her sleep on the cold pavement. Finally she rises and stumbles into the house and asks a million questions. But answering them is fruitless. She will just ask them again. Her eyes are open but she's not awake. Or maybe she's awake but still drunk. It's hard to tell. She doesn't know why she's there, doesn't remember how she got there. She just remembers swallowing pills and wine so she wouldn't have to think.
But we're all thinking. We're all thinking we're done. She needs help and it's not the kind of help that we can give. We researched rehabilitation options for her. We found phone numbers she can call and they're not ours. I feel horrible because I love her. I want to help her. But I don't think she wants it. So I'm backing off. This will be the last batch I flush.