I'm enjoying the new job. Meeting a lot of people, learning a lot. It's a pretty sweet gig. I even hung out with one woman from my job today. We both work from home, but she happened to live in my neighborhood, and after telling her about the sweet Christmas decorations I scored, she met me at the store to get her own.
We both shared our thoughts on what we've done. I talked about the trainers I was paired with, some far better than others. My coworker talked a little about her husband, not that I pried. She seems happy, excited to decorate for the holidays. I jokingly gave her grief for having me out buying things the moment we got paid.
Anyway, this evening at work, I had a trainer I enjoyed. We had a lot in common, and like all trainers, I asked him the best way to keep my nose clean. He said that I'm doing good so far, which was all I needed to hear. As the night wore on, I got a call from a woman, seemingly desperate for answers.
Apparently, the woman's husband recently got a potentially terminal cancer diagnosis. She went on to share that her husband has had issues with substances in the past, and she fears that he is out getting high at the moment. The woman had only had limited interaction with the man, as he had mostly been gone for days on end, since the diagnosis. The woman was desperate for help, for answers. I listened to her practically pleading for some sort of intervention, anything, to save the man she loves.
My heart truly broke for her. I've seen what cancer can do and I can only imagine how a person would feel to learn that their spouse has it. Not only did I witness it in my own family, with Ali, I worked in hospice briefly and saw up close and personal what happens to families struggling with this diagnosis. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. Devastating only scratches the surface.
I explained to her that legally, there really isn't much that can be done. Police can be called if there was some sort of imminent risk to him or others, but there didn't seem to be any. I suggested that she call local non-emergency numbers, in hopes they will send out a mental health professional, but even that can only do so much. Technically getting high is not illegal and he is well within his rights to decline any medical interventions he may need.
I told the woman that I could have outreach done to the man to ensure that he was safe. She agreed, thankful for any help that could be given. I called the man and- he answered. He was possibly under the influence at the time, because he was almost jazzy. The man shared that he was fine and he wished his wife would not worry about him, he just needed time away. Now as I try to keep this as vague as I can (HIPAA is no joke), but pretty sure he was high as giraffe coochie.
It broke my heart that much more. To hear the woman's desperate, emotional pleas to save her husband's life and bring him home so he could seek treatment. And then hear him being almost annoyed that she cared enough to reach out to get him help.
It made me wonder all over again if marriage is worth the headache. Had she been anyone else that I knew privately, I would have told her that what I would do in that situation is to cut my losses. He wants to be sick, run the streets, then bring his ass back home (after making me worry like hell about him), so that I can nurse him and take him to doctor's appointments and wipe his brow?! And after years of dealing with his drug use too?! Tuh!!
I make no secret of my plans to return out west to live for a while. I want to bask in the sun and enjoy fresh fruit, and live by the beach, and spend my weekends hiking and exploring. I want to date beautiful men (or not), I want to do whatever makes me happy. I'm not necessarily against marriage, I'd be down for the right man/situation. I'm just against intentionally taking on the problems of another human being, when my life is so easy on this own. And this here was problems!
I told my guy trainer how my inner Black woman wanted to tell her pack her shit and start mourning him, because at the rate he's going, it's only a matter of time. But obviously, I'm paid $17/hr (the big bucks!) to shut the fuck up and follow the prompts. I joked that I've somehow become the homegirl that tells her friends to leave her man any time he fucks up remotely.
*"He sneezes too loud?! Girl, you don't gotta take that, leave his ass!"
*"He ain't taking you on dates and you're still giving him snatch?! Girl, you don't need that, stop fucking him and leave him!"
*"He ain't making you orgasm?! Oh hell no, he needs to be packed and ready to move out by the time you get home TUH-DAY!! Let him go give wack dick to that other chick!!"
The coworker and I both discussed how once you reach a certain age, you see what a bad marriage can do to people. How people gain/lose weight, lose their hair, lose their money, and their minds. People literally take years off their lives, all in an attempt to save someone that really seems not to give two shits about them (blame the drugs in their case, but still) and really don't wanna be saved in the first damned place.
She is either a better person than me, or a better wife than me. Cuz...
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