Pathway

Recently I reconnected with a woman I used to be friendly with. Her name was Martina. We met through a church activity, a thing in which I no longer participate. Our children grew up and we lost touch in the way that happens when people do not see each other very often. She was kind and helpful, a great talker, a wonderful host and cook, generous and thoughtful. That was on the surface. I often thought she was anxious and sad, but I did not have the opportunity to know her better.

A few months ago, while talking to her husband, one of the stalwart band of early morning dog walkers, I learned that Martina had had a very difficult time over the years since we  lost touch. There had been many admissions for treatment of alcohol dependence, and she was in rehab again following another relapse.

Once Martina was home again, I got back in touch with her. We met up for coffee, and it was quite a shock seeing her after all the years. She was so thin and frail it seemed she might snap at the slightest pressure. She talked  about her alcohol issues with painful honesty. Following that, she came to an evening of music and food with some good friends of mine. Sadly that was the only time she came as she was beset by anxiety and panic, and relapsed again.

I visited her in hospital six days before she died when she was admitted with a stomach complaint, and she talked about how sad she felt. She told me when she said she had alcohol dependence issues to the medical staff, there was a dramatic shift in attitude on their part. We parted with a hug, and that is the last time I saw her. The next day she was sent home. The weekend reportedly was good for her, she went out walking with her husband. On Monday morning, she was found dead in her bed by her husband.

I have since learned that Martina lost a baby some years ago. That is a tragedy that can destroy a person, a relationship, and a family, and it explains the tangible sadness that was visible in her eyes. I passed on the awful news to my friends, most of whom were shocked to hear of her passing. One person said, “Oh, she was the alcoholic”. While understandable, that comment made me feel irritated. It is easy to sum a person up as a diagnosis, and while a diagnosis may explain certain things, it does not tell you anything about that person, who they were, what they were like or what they experienced. It is like doctors’ rounds in a hospital, with each person being summed up as “the gallstone” or “the fractured neck of femur”.

For Martina, the struggle is now over and she is at rest. May the wind be always at her back, and may the sun shine gently on her face.