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Reality Wakes Me Up
Denial will be the death of us
Being present at any given moment is not easy in a society where we must always be on, even in our sleep, and in a thousand different directions. There are flame throwers everywhere. At times, being present is a requirement, not a choice.
One of those instances that required my absolute attention and awareness was when my daughter lay in a hospital bed in Bend, Oregon. She had been diagnosed with a liver disease — resulting from her alcohol addiction. She had revealed, at one point during discussions with her doctor, that she was up to a quart of vodka a day. My own liver quivered when I heard that confession.
One night as she lay reeling with pain from the symptoms of withdrawal, she was crying out that her skin felt as if a thousand needles were poking her entire body. My daughter’s situation became abundantly real and incredibly dire in that moment. I rubbed her all over, attempting to alleviate her horrendous and unimaginable discomfort. I could feel intensely what she described in my own body. We have always been in tune with one another’s physical and emotional state since she was a young child. If she was in pain, hurt herself, skinned her knee, banged her head, whatever, I felt it in my bones. I would shut down, pleading with her father to take over, offering her immediate medical attention, or taking her to the clinic…
