It’s a 6am phone call from Troll. He’s calling me from ER.
“Mor, I can’t move my right leg. It’s numb. I can’t walk. My whole leg is numb. I’m at the hospital. I’m really scared. I had to call in sick to work. Wait, I’ll call you back. The doc is here.”
20 minutes pass.
“Mor, (gasping and crying) the doc said there’s nothing wrong with my leg. They had me take off all my clothes and put on a thin gown that was way too small. I had to walk around the room. She checked my knee reflex saying that was normal too.
“She just shrugged, said there’s nothing wrong, then asked when was the last time I did heroin. I felt like a monkey dancing around for her in that little room. I don’t get what being a heroin addict has to do with my numb leg. I told her I can’t walk. It feels like pins poking into my leg all over. I don’t know what to do.”
Where are you right now?
“I’m hiding in the ER bathroom. I’m too embarrassed to come out. I can’t deal with all this stuff that keeps happening. I might lose my job. I hobbled on my leg all the way here. I’m so cold. I’m feeling really sick and my leg hurts so much. I don’t know what to do-ooooooo.”
Troll is living independently, at last. For the first 2 weeks after he left I didn’t answer his calls. I needed a long-overdue break from him. Now I’m taking his calls which are almost everyday and sometimes 10 or more per day.
Can you hobble over to the pharmacy to rent some crutches?
“No-ooooo, I can’t move. I hurt so much. I can’t come out and show my face here, it’s all red from crying. OK maybe I can try to get there. It’s only a block. Oh gawd, they’re not open till 8. OK I can see thru the window that they rent stuff. OK they’re open now. Oh no, they need a credit card for a security deposit. Now what. Maybe I can buy a cane. How does a cane work. Oh great, they have canes and I can get one, they’re only about $25. Can you transfer some money for a cane….”