Epidemic 


We have a drug problem in this country. Crisis actually. It’s so bad we have labeled it an epidemic. Overdose endings becoming more and more common. 

Up on the hill, sitting pretty and safe atop golden thrones, they slash budgets, taxes, and vote on repeals. Making sure their own plans read EXEMPT. 

Meanwhile. Down home. In just another neighborhood in good ole’ US of A. Two working stiffs, one a recovering addict, the other his loving wife, lay awake (and breathing), in their bed. They hold hands, fingers interlaced, while the storm unleashes a stampede of rain upon rooftop. It’s as if the universe KNOWS. 

Do they know? Them up on the hill. What the universe knows? That it is a life or death struggle?  (It is a health crisis, not a criminal justice one.) 

There is blood on their hands. 

I will not walk into the night silently. I WILL NOT. I will throw punches and scream until the stars explode against black midnight universe. 

Back home. In a city in Massachusetts. A recovering addict and wife, hearts beating in chests, lie in their bed under night sky; exploding stars shower sparks around them, lighting up bedroom, stampede liquid footsteps marching protest above, booming through rented space. Filling unremarkable life with light and with sound. The universe is storming. The universe KNOWS. 

Do they know? Them up on the hill. What the universe knows? That it is a life or death struggle?   (It is a health crisis, not a criminal justice one.) 

There is blood on their hands. 

I will not walk into the night silently. I WILL NOT.  I will throw punches and scream until the stars explode against black midnight universe. 

My husband is beating the opioid epidemic one day at a time. Even in this crazy cruel world. It is day 209.  If he can, you can too. Keep fighting for your lives. We can fight together. 

In solidarity and in love. 

-M 

I’m going to leave you with a poem from Dylan Thomas:



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6 thoughts on “Epidemic 

  1. They don’t seem to care about anything except making money.
    The poor, the mentally ill, the addicted, the old, the young, tossed aside.
    So they can make money.
    The rich live longer, because they have better access to health care, and can pay for anything they need.
    The middle class, me and hubs, hang on with employers insurance, and hope the premiums don’t rise too much. And we pray, because we are older, that we will have Medicare.
    The poor lose..no access, no money to help them.
    They die, but it’s all about making money.
    We do have a drug crisis. We have so many people dying a year.
    But it’s all about making money.
    Thank you for letting me vent.
    xo
    Wendy

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I’ve stumbled on your blog and have enjoyed reading through. I strongly believe that that more we talk about these issues, the better. Stigma plays such huge role in our ability to adequately treat and prevent addition. Thank you for sharing your story.

    Liked by 1 person

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