what the pills were for before opening the bottle and pouring its contents into the toilet, and the girls watched with pride and a bit too much fascination.
“These are for getting up … going to sleep … tension,” she began, “headaches … lack of appetite … too much appetite … muscle aches … hypertension … low blood pressure … sluggishness … hot flashes …”
“NOT THOSE!” the girls screamed, and Rona grabbed the bottle before Florence could empty it.
11
“Remember how you asked when I come into the story, Dr. Mikowksy?” Michael began. “You are about to find out.”
The doctor scooted to the back of his chair and sat up straight, checked the sharpness of his pencil and braced himself for Michael’s debut.
Michael took notice of the doctor’s posture, smiled and said, “It is not that exciting, Doc.”
“Well, I have waited quite a while for you to enter the story, and I don’t want to miss a thing,” he told his patient, smiling.
Michael sat back, took a deep breath and continued the unfinished story.
~~~~~
In April 1985, Florence entered Tranquility Lodge for drug rehabilitation. We used to make a joke every time their commercials would come on television and imitate the announcer, saying, “Tranquility Lodge, Happy Hour every night from four to seven.” Although she had quit her pill-popping habit on her own, she felt she needed extra help in sustaining her sobriety.
I decided to pay Aunt Flossie a visit. Aunt Flossie was my nickname for her by the way.
On my way home from school after graduation, I took the exit for Tranquility Lodge. It was located in a secluded area in Yorktown, Virginia, and the setting was as the commercials promised, bucolic and tranquil. As I parked my car and walked toward the entrance, I expected to find a bunch of strung out teenagers, but once inside, I discovered an entire enclave of middle-aged, prescription drug addicts, most of whom were women.
I inquired at the front desk about Florence’s room, introducing myself as a family friend, and they told me she was in the Sunrise Wing to the right, Room 610. As I arrived at the room, I noticed the door was open, so I peaked in, and Florence was sitting by the window reading the newspaper. She was in a pink sweat suit, and she was wearing her signature large purple reading glasses that always made her look like a praying mantis. I noticed her hair was not teased and shellacked, but combed back and longer than usual. And, it was gray. Four weeks without a color, cut and set, and she looked so different. But somehow, even with her gray hair, and no makeup, except for lipstick of course, she looked ten years younger than she did the last time I saw her at spring break.
“Aunt Flossie?” I said softly. She looked up and smiled from ear to ear.
“Mickey!” she screamed. Mickey was her nickname for me.
She dropped the paper, ran over and gave me a big hug. She guided me to the chair facing the bed, and she hoisted her four-foot-eleven-inch frame onto the foot of the bed with her Keds-clad feet dangling.
“I am so sorry I couldn’t make it to your college graduation,” she said. “I cannot seem to get a day-pass from this prison to save my life.”
I assured her that it was fine and that her health was more important than anything to me.
“It isn’t exactly Betty Ford, but they know what they are doing, and I feel better than I have in years. So, did your mother enjoy the graduation ceremony?” she asked.
“She didn’t make it,” I answered.
Florence looked at me, and she reached out her hand for mine, and asked, “Why not?”
“She and Karl Stein are taking a cruise, so they came up two days before to congratulate me, and then they left,” I continued. “Her only son graduates from college, and she cannot plan a vacation around it. I guess I should be used to it by now.”
“You know how I feel about Hannah’s mothering skills, so I need not say anything,” Florence
“These are for getting up … going to sleep … tension,” she began, “headaches … lack of appetite … too much appetite … muscle aches … hypertension … low blood pressure … sluggishness … hot flashes …”
“NOT THOSE!” the girls screamed, and Rona grabbed the bottle before Florence could empty it.
11
“Remember how you asked when I come into the story, Dr. Mikowksy?” Michael began. “You are about to find out.”
The doctor scooted to the back of his chair and sat up straight, checked the sharpness of his pencil and braced himself for Michael’s debut.
Michael took notice of the doctor’s posture, smiled and said, “It is not that exciting, Doc.”
“Well, I have waited quite a while for you to enter the story, and I don’t want to miss a thing,” he told his patient, smiling.
Michael sat back, took a deep breath and continued the unfinished story.
~~~~~
In April 1985, Florence entered Tranquility Lodge for drug rehabilitation. We used to make a joke every time their commercials would come on television and imitate the announcer, saying, “Tranquility Lodge, Happy Hour every night from four to seven.” Although she had quit her pill-popping habit on her own, she felt she needed extra help in sustaining her sobriety.
I decided to pay Aunt Flossie a visit. Aunt Flossie was my nickname for her by the way.
On my way home from school after graduation, I took the exit for Tranquility Lodge. It was located in a secluded area in Yorktown, Virginia, and the setting was as the commercials promised, bucolic and tranquil. As I parked my car and walked toward the entrance, I expected to find a bunch of strung out teenagers, but once inside, I discovered an entire enclave of middle-aged, prescription drug addicts, most of whom were women.
I inquired at the front desk about Florence’s room, introducing myself as a family friend, and they told me she was in the Sunrise Wing to the right, Room 610. As I arrived at the room, I noticed the door was open, so I peaked in, and Florence was sitting by the window reading the newspaper. She was in a pink sweat suit, and she was wearing her signature large purple reading glasses that always made her look like a praying mantis. I noticed her hair was not teased and shellacked, but combed back and longer than usual. And, it was gray. Four weeks without a color, cut and set, and she looked so different. But somehow, even with her gray hair, and no makeup, except for lipstick of course, she looked ten years younger than she did the last time I saw her at spring break.
“Aunt Flossie?” I said softly. She looked up and smiled from ear to ear.
“Mickey!” she screamed. Mickey was her nickname for me.
She dropped the paper, ran over and gave me a big hug. She guided me to the chair facing the bed, and she hoisted her four-foot-eleven-inch frame onto the foot of the bed with her Keds-clad feet dangling.
“I am so sorry I couldn’t make it to your college graduation,” she said. “I cannot seem to get a day-pass from this prison to save my life.”
I assured her that it was fine and that her health was more important than anything to me.
“It isn’t exactly Betty Ford, but they know what they are doing, and I feel better than I have in years. So, did your mother enjoy the graduation ceremony?” she asked.
“She didn’t make it,” I answered.
Florence looked at me, and she reached out her hand for mine, and asked, “Why not?”
“She and Karl Stein are taking a cruise, so they came up two days before to congratulate me, and then they left,” I continued. “Her only son graduates from college, and she cannot plan a vacation around it. I guess I should be used to it by now.”
“You know how I feel about Hannah’s mothering skills, so I need not say anything,” Florence
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