Skip to main content

An Act of Love

24Saturday, my friends brought me a meeting, a recovery meeting. I so appreciate this simple act of love and kindness, this act of service, my lifeline to the program of Alcoholics Anonymous. Although, it must be hard on these friends to bear witness to my deterioration, they are faithful in their mission.

I've been around the program of Alcoholics Anonymous long enough to know that the motivation is not purely altruistic. They get insurance of another day of sobriety; they get the opportunity to live their lives happy, joyous, and free. Even though, they have their choice of many venues to acheive this goal; they could attend any meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous, work with a sponsee, work with a sponsor, or any other person for the purpose of recovery. Heck, they could go take a meeting to another person confined to a nursing home, hospital, or in a recovery center, or incarcerated in a jail or prison. But, they spend time and resources to come to bring a meeting to me.

I am grateful. I am honored. I am fortunate. I am in awe of their commitment, their tenacity, the degree of their dedication. I truly do not know if I would have done the same. That they are a core group of old-timers increases my awe and gratitude. Note: the term "old-timers" is indicative of time in the program of Alcoholics Anonymous working the steps. Through their experience, strength, and hope, I derive continued strength and hope to get through my experience of dying with dignity sober. Note: my use of the term "death with dignity" is not a euphemism for suicide in the face of a terminal illness. I will be passing on "au natural" or possibly with a bit of morphine on board to ease the pain. I'm no hero. 

Labels:
Location: 2720 E Madison St, Seattle, WA 98112, USA

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

I Remember...

I remember catching fireflies,  putting them in a jar, as a girl of five. I picked pears off a tree that overhung an alleyway on my route home from school, then enjoyed the forbidden fruit. .I had a golden cat who chased a gray mouse through our living room sending my mother, 3-year old sister, and me screaming atop the sofa and chairs. We lived in a farmhouse and I watched Romper Room. A daddy longlegs skittered across my dirty kid legs as I teeter-tottered on a broken kitchen chair back. I played grocery store and laid out a bedroll for group nap time in preschool. We lived in an apartment attached to a bakery. My maternal grandparents visited and a photo was snapped. Grandma held Dawn and Grandpa held me. I held Grandpa's chin. Walking through the back of the flour-caked kitchen, I saw scrumptious pastries and colorful toys stuck in the cupcakes with my hungry kids eyes. We lived in a two-story apartment building next door to a large farmer's field.  That field was my...
3 comments
Read more

You're Not You...Me, Too!

1 Wow! Spot on...In so many ways.  Granted I wasn't in the the same socio-economic circumstance, and neither do I play piano but I was passionate about knitting and I lost the ability to engage in my passion practically from the onset of the ALS. Symptoms first manifested in my right hand as well. I was big on juicing, supplements, and did not worry about fats nor calories. But ALS advanced relentlessly. I hired friends as caregivers and had to bear the humiliation of being toileted by them.One of the worst hurdles for me was allowing a long time male friend wipe me following a toilet. My mother, stepfather, and sister all toileted me as well. Of course, my husband had to attend to all of my most delicate needs, showering, dressing and make-up application. I could really relate to Hillary Swank's character, Kate, in all circumstances except, she chose not to use the bipap (breathing apparatus).  I don't really get why somebody would opt out of a non-invasive solution to...
3 comments
Read more

Kate

I think about my friend, Kate Struby, who died from this horrible disease in 2013. She lived here at Bailey Boushay House before I did. I reached out to Kate online through FaceBook because I loved her photograph with her head thrown back in laughter. I also loved her posts. I guess I just loved her spirit. I got to finally meet her one month before she died. I happened to be at the University of Washington Medical Center for my quarterly appointment when I saw her FaceBook post. She was awake and in the medical ICU. She was a mere few floors down. I would not be stopped. Relativeor no, I would meet my FaceBook friend. Thank God I did. I rolled into the room to find a beautiful, ethere.al woman flanked by two friends. Although it was an impromtu visit, she said she knew me immediately.I was in awe of her with her fiery spirit despite the ravages of our shared disease. She, unable to lift even a finger, lifted my spirit.
2 comments
Read more