Krissy

Krissy is my youngest half-sister.  She's now 38, but has always been the baby.  Even after she had a child, she lived at home with our mother and they were two peas in a pod.  Mom was not a good role model and suffered from a variety of ailments, including mental illness.  Neither of them held a job and I don't know they managed, but they lived on a steady diet of greasy fast food, sugary soda and cigarettes. 

About 10 years ago, when she was just 58 years young; my mom died suddenly as a result of respiratory arrest.  Not surprising considering the constant smoking.  After her death Krissy just seemed to fall apart emotionally and physically.  She began using drugs and lost custody of her teenage son due to the drugs and neglect.  She became homeless and at one point we even filed a Missing Person's Report with the police because we couldn't find her.  We were certain she was dead, but thankfully that wasn't the case.  But she could have been considering the circumstances in which she was found. 

Somehow Krissy had the good sense to call for help.  Our brother came to her rescue, and took her away from the drugged man that wanted to hold her hostage for her part of the rent for a nasty, roach infested motel room in a seedy part of town.  Kris was given a fresh start with one of our sisters in the Mid West, but before long she headed back out to California and was homeless again in no time.

Several weeks after she had her first debilitating stroke we heard from her in the county hospital. Before long they put her in a taxi and sent her on her way.  Still unable to communicate properly and having extreme difficulty walking, she had a second stroke in the homeless shelter.  Ultimately she ended up back in the hospital, where she suffered a third stroke that they didn't think she'd survive. 

Her will to live and her drive to regain her strength was amazing and inspiring.  In no time she was again ready to be released.  I met with the hospital's social worker and we made arrangements for her to collect Social Security Disability and obtain appropriate housing for someone in her condition.  Before long she was living in a group home with a loving caretaker who fixed her charges wonderfulhomecooked meals and ensured they took their medications as prescribed.  

Kris lived in the group home for the past two years and did pretty well.  Eventually her son graduated high school and was permitted to come live at the same place.  We'd talk on the telephone every once in awhile, which was difficult because her speech was greatly affected. 

I don't know how she managed to purchase cigarettes on her limited income, but she continued to smoke, despite the doctor's warnings, and the concern of her family and friends.  I knew the danger and had talked with her doctors.  She was at extreme risk of suffering a fatal stroke due to her high blood pressure, which increased with each cigarette she put to her mouth.  Regardless of what any of us said, she continued with her nicotine habit. 

Today I received a call from her and we managed to catch up on a few things.  She had moved to her father's house up north, and her step-mother was going to be her paid caregiver.  I was excited for her that she was now in the care of family. 

Of course I had to ask the question that every smoker dreads..........

Me:  Kris, are you still smoking?  

Her: Noooooooooooo! 

Me:  Oh my gosh!  Krissy I am so proud of you for stopping!      How long has it been since you smoked?

Her: Yessssssssstttttuuuurrdddaaaay!

God love her...It's a start!