Well shoot, I am not sure I have ever gone this long without posting.
I don’t even know where to start, but I will start with the notation that the summer weather has been nonexistent for the most part, concerning the weather.
We’ve had two beach days without the kids (because they’ve been with their dad on vacation), both of which consisted of J and I forcing ourselves to take some time out to get down there and lie around like we were being handed the world for a few hours with packed snacks and water and the sun beating down on us.
With the kids, about a week and a half ago, we’ve had three hours at the beach, in between rain and fog and cold temperatures.
They’ve been gone a week and on Monday morning come back to us. I miss them but the time to really focus on what we are doing here, organizing, trying to plan our future, business-wise, and talking alot about where we want to go from here, has taken up alot of good time.
Things came to a screeching halt last weekend, on fourth of July, when we were called upon by the chef of the piano bar J plays in, to help wake up their boss. She is a young woman, she owns the place via inheritance, who is running it into the ground due to her lack of social skills and her dependance on drugs, specifically, heroin. Although she is “clean” from it, she takes Methadone and pills for a few ailments, one including anxiety. And apparently tends to take a bit too much.
Fourth of July was one of those nights where the needle came out again, for some reason. We saw it on her arms and her legs.
At 1am when the piano bar was closing, we couldn’t wake her up in her office.
We called 911.
J has known her since she was eleven, as he worked many years ago in the same piano bar, for her dad.
She woke up an hour later when the paramedics were transferring her, taking them to the local hospital. I drove behind with the chef of the restaurant, while J went with her in the ambulance. After meeting in the emergency room, the doctors checked her, talked to her, but wouldn’t talk to us. Unfortunately, they wouldn’t talk to us about her “ailments”, because J and I (and some of her family) were now attempting to have an intervention.
I’ve never seen J like this, but he kept at the doctor, asking her to confirm that the tracks on her arms were fresh.
And the doctor (because of privacy laws, obviously) continued to refuse, coming close to calling security because he was so upset no one would do anything to help her.
And all the while, this girl looked everyone in the eyes and told her she was clean.
The following day, we had a meeting with her, instigated by some of her family, and offered to take her to an inpatient facility the next day and that we would run the piano bar and restaurant for her for the rest of the summer without pay, partnering with the chef, to keep the doors open.
She contemplated it. But then walked away from it.
It’s disappointing. It’s sad. It’s life, unfortunately.
And we are pretty sure that after these few years of her struggles, she will either have some sort of life changing event to help her get clean, or one day, the doors will be closed because she died.