The wonderfully elegant woman I know has bedhead today.
Her fine features are marred by a terrible skin condition as yet undiagnosed.
She is sleeping in the living room on the couch, and is utterly convinced that someone is trying to break in to her home.
I used to check on her once a week.
We would chat about things and I would discreetly check the home for signs of medication misusage. She does not intentionally overdose herself but there are times when memory slips and pain yells.
Today, I decide to flip the cushions on the couch when she has excused herself to freshen up. I take off the covers and notice they have alot of cathair in them.
I see something small shoot across the room. Something pinkish.
Tracking it down, I realise it is one of her morning medications.
I decide to check the sides of the couch.
Putting my hand down the side, the one where she sits, I find a little stash of medications. Pink ones, yellow ones, white ones, blue ones.
I find some antibiotics, in fact I find about 8 doses of them.
Sometimes, a lock is necesssary to protect a person from their own best intentions.