The Foundation of Our Society is Strong Families

Last month, the Denver City Council approved to open a safe injection site, where drug users could come and use illegal drugs in a safe and legally protected environment. The council members view this as a way to save people from overdose deaths. Councilman Albus Brooks stated, “Choosing not to save the lives of our neighbors is an injustice that threatens to destabilize the very foundation of our society.” I don’t claim to have the answers to fix the drug crisis in cities, but this I do know the foundation of our society is built on the strengthening of families and the foundation of our society is being eroded as the family weakens and societies disregard for families increases.  

Heroin and other drugs have been known to destroy families. Providing users with a safe place to use drugs doesn’t help their families who are suffering. “The utilization of evidence-based family approaches has demonstrated superiority over individual or group-based treatments. Treating the individual without family involvement may limit the effectiveness of treatment for two main reasons: it ignores the devastating impact of SUDs [Substance Use Disorders] on the family system leaving family members untreated, and it does not recognize the family as a potential system of support for change.” 

If we truly want to create policies to help individuals who are suffering, then we need to find a way that looks beyond the individual and focuses on the family. The more we can create healthy, functioning families, then the better and stronger our society will be.

My Friend Kathleen--Strength to Live Life Even While Battling Cancer

One day in June 2002, the doctors informed my friend and neighbor, Kathleen, that they could do nothing more to treat the cancerous tumor inside of her stomach. They predicted she had two weeks left to live.  Kathleen and I had become friends as we met at the bus stop each afternoon waiting for our boys to get off the bus. She was the neighbor I could always rely on and we were constantly serving each other—watching each other’s kids, borrowing items, or lending a helping hand. Her and I were different in many ways, and though we only knew each other for a short time, Kathleen became my hero for she lived her life like no one knew she was dying. She taught me and others around her how to live life to the fullest instead of wallowing in despair or self-pity. 

A year earlier, Kathleen learned she had Stage 4 Stomach cancer which required chemo and radiation to combat the cancer and give her a fighting chance. A month later, in August, the doctors removed her stomach and hooked her intestines to act as her stomach. She continued fighting and was elated to lean that in January her cancer was in remission. Her joy was short-lived for a month later, Kathleen’s cancer had returned with a vengeance. Doctors felt she was too weak for surgery, so they continued chemo, but told her that would only slow the progression. By June, the tumor had grown so large, it was blocking her intestines, and there was nothing more they could do for her. 

As three other neighbors and I gathered around her bedside that June evening, I expected it to be a quick visit, as I didn’t know what I could say to her as she would leave behind her two young boys, similar in age to my boys, age 7 and 5. But as my Long Island New Yorker friend was never at a loss of words, she talked for an hour and a half as she shared stories from her past, what she planned to do in the present, and concerns for the future of her family.  At one point, she mentioned how her youngest wanted to be Peter Pan for Halloween and she hoped to make him a costume and worried she wouldn’t be there for Halloween.  

A few days later I went over to visit. I expected a somber household, but her home was anything but somber. Her friends and family from New York had flown in to say their last good-byes. Her house was like a party---there were people in every room. She was resting in bed and her friends were gathered around her bed. She welcomed me in and I told her I had brought a gift. She said that wasn’t necessary, but I said “just open it up and see.” When she pulled a green felt Peter Pan costume out of the bag, she started to cry. I had spent the last few days, crying as I selected fabric and as I sewed the costume. She was so excited to be able to see her son in his costume and she wouldn’t have to worry if she lived until October.  

The two weeks stretched on and my fighting friend amazed her family, friends, and doctors. Instead of finding her in bed, when I would go visit, she would be out shopping with her sister. She busily compiled picture collages for her sons to remember her and made curtains for her bedroom. She wanted her children to know what she would see when she looked down from heaven, so she took her boys and husband up into an airplane. We stood outside waving hi as they flew overhead. She kept busy every day. My favorite thing to do was go visit and listen to her stories knowing my time with her was short as she was dying and I was moving out of state. 

The greatest gift she gave me was on moving day, two weeks before she died. She was over bright and early at 7:30 AM.  She usually slept in until 10.  She brought waffles, pancakes, sausage, bacon, toast, scrambled eggs, juice, and milk for my entire family.  She knew I was by myself and had no food in the house.  I don’t know where she found the energy, but I was so touched.  That was our friendship—giving back and forth to each other. 

Kathleen truly lived her life in the moment and found a way to serve and give and love and live. She stood strong even when the cancerous tumor refused to back away. She was my sweet, dear friend, who will always hold a special place in my heart.