September 2005
The Acid Test
If he could get through his mother's death sober, he could get through anything
It's three in the morning in Philly. I've been up since two taking care of my mom, whose body is failing from cancer. It's been a rough two years. I've given her liquid morphine and sedatives twice tonight to ease her pain and keep her comfortable. My father and I brought her home from the hospital as she requested. And who do you think was appointed to pick up the morphine from the pharmacy? You guessed it--me. The alcoholic and addict. Thank God I'm sober or the medication would not have made it back to my parents' home, and neither would I.
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