Mother of Prevention

by Lori Copeland

  I knew she would love it.

  For the time being, I’d forgotten my happy news. Right now I prayed for Mazi. Funny how one moment you can be on top of the mountain and the next moment all of your priorities are rearranged. Friendships matter; love matters. Money is only a tool in this world.

  Was that odd or was that God?

  I think I believed the latter.

  I sat in the empty waiting room, staring at the CNN news reporter on the overhead television. The president was making a speech; there had been another drive-by shooting in Ohio.

  Mazi had been in the emergency room for over an hour, and no one had been out to speak to me. I wondered about Warren. Should I call him now or wait until I knew more details?

  What if Mazi was this minute dying? Wouldn’t Warren want to be here? I racked my brain, trying to remember where the missing husband was working this week. Ohio? Mississippi? Arkansas. Little Rock. I’d been with her so little this week I didn’t recall her mentioning Warren’s location. No matter. He couldn’t just appear in the emergency room. He’d have to book a flight….

  A blue-coated doctor emerged from behind the double doors and I sprang to my feet. When he sailed by without comment, I sank back to the hard chair. Should I wait and call Warren when I knew more? What if I alarmed him for nothing? Then again…

  Over the next half hour I repeated the action twice before a physician headed in my direction. His name tag read “Dr. Phil Harding.”

  “Are you with Mrs. Hollingsworth?”

  “Yes.” Inside my chest my heart thumped like a three-sided tire.

  The graying doctor consulted his chart. “She’s had a mild cardiac episode. She’s awake but confused.”

  Heart problems? Mazi? “But she’s so young for heart problems.”

  I was so relieved that he hadn’t said alcohol, but I was totally unprepared for his next words.

  He shook his head. “When will women learn? Diet pills can be a dangerous drug—even the over-the-counter ones.”

  I stared back at him blankly. “Diet pills?”

  He glanced up, meeting my rattled gaze. “You didn’t know she used diet pills on a regular basis?”

  Numbly I shook my head.

  He frowned. “She told me she has for years. The abuse has finally caught up with her.”

  Vaguely his words penetrated my shocked senses. Suddenly threads of Mazi’s somewhat bizarre behavior started to make sense. Diet pills were responsible.

  “I’m so sorry. I’m her closest friend, and I had no idea.”

  “She probably didn’t want you to know.” He scribbled a notation on the chart before he looked up. “Diet pills are as addictive as alcohol. Once a woman gets hooked on them, either by prescription or with over-the-counter products, she’s powerless to stop usage. She’s driven by motivation and the hope of a quick fix—the constant fear that she might regain any weight that she’s managed to starve off. The behavior becomes an endless cycle once a woman buys into the idea of being ultrathin.”

  I bit back the urge to cry. For the past few months Mazi had been my anchor, my emotional foundation. In that time I had not once stopped to ask about her problems. I was so absorbed in my own worries that I had lost sight of others.

  The sun rose and set on Kate Madison.

  Had this blind self-absorption bled over into my children? My family? Certainly my friends. I was so ashamed.

  “Will there be any lasting damage?”

  “There could be. There’s always the risk of liver injury. She’s lucky. Strokes and renal failure can be side effects of diet pills. Of course we’ll run tests. I’ll want to keep her here for a couple of days, but my guess is that this is her wake-up call.” He gave me a stern look. “I hope, as her friend, that you encourage her to heed the warning. This is not an easy habit to kick.”

  Snapping the chart shut, he strode briskly back through the double doors.

  Mazi took diet pills.

  I sank back into my chair trying to let the moment sink in. Why had she never told me? There had been numerous times she could have mentioned her dilemma, shared her struggle. How many times had we split entrées, ordered one dessert and two spoons? Had drunk skinny lattes with sugar-free vanilla syrup, avoided cookies while mall shopping and split a whole-wheat pretzel instead?

  Why hadn’t I noticed her battle?

  I knew she liked to nibble, but who didn’t nibble occasionally? And show me the person who didn’t adore peanut or almond M&M’s. Mazi could eat a whole bag, but the next day she’d drink diet soda and eat lettuce and fat-free cheese all day for penance.

  My heart ached for my loyal friend. I felt incredibly selfish and self-centered. I had not once noticed what lay behind Mazi’s frequent bouts of stomach complaints and insomnia.

  Warren. I had to call Warren and tell him what had happened. After a vain search for quarters, I walked to the hospital gift shop for change. I spotted a phone on the far wall and headed for it. Mazi had once insisted that I take her husband’s cell number in case of emergency.

  Had she known then that she was playing with fire, that it was only a matter of time before her self-destructive habit would overcome her?

  I rummaged through my purse and located the small address book I carried. Phone numbers were noted after each entry.

  The phone rang three times before a man answered. I’d spoken to Warren so infrequently I wasn’t sure I had the right party.

  “Warren?”

  “Yes? Who’s this?”

  “It’s Kate. Kate Madison.”

  When the name failed to register I tried again. “Your next-door neighbor. In San Francisco.” Lest he forgot where home was.

  “Oh—Kate. Yes. Is something wrong?” I could hear a television playing low in the background.

  “Warren, I’m sorry to have to call, but Mazi’s in the hospital.”

  “Oh?”

  The response indicated little more emotion than if I’d just informed him that his shoe was untied. What sort of cold fish had Mazi pledged her life to?

  I repeated my statement. “Mazi’s in the hospital. They say it was a cardiac incident. She seems to be fine now, but the doctor wants to keep her here a couple of days for tests.”

  The background noise ceased; I assumed that Warren had hit the mute button on the remote. He cleared his throat.

  “Is she all right?”

  “The doctor says she’s stable for the time being, but he won’t know anything for certain until test results come back.” I briefly explained about the diet pills.

  “Yes, I know she takes them.”

  “And you don’t mind!” My words came out sharper than I intended.

  “Mind? Why should I mind? She has a weight problem.”

  I wanted to somehow beam myself through the phone line and slap him silly. What an awful thing to say when his wife is lying in a hospital bed, threatened by something you’d condoned.

  “Unsupervised diet pills are harmful, Warren. Doesn’t Mazi know that?”

  “She never felt well when she took them, but they controlled her appetite. She rarely takes prescription pills. She usually stays with the over-the-counter brands. Health food stores, that sort of thing.” Resentment now colored his tone. I could tell he didn’t like my attitude, but then I didn’t care for his, either.

  I clutched the receiver. “When may I tell Mazi to expect you home?”

  “Home? I’m in Arkansas.”

  “Yes.” What I longed to say was a very sarcastic So? He made the distance sound like earth to Mars. We had a crisis here, not a class reunion.

  “By the time I fly from here to there the emergency will be resolved. My wife is okay. Isn’t that what you said?”

  “She’s stable. I don’t know what the tests will show.”

  “But she’s being properly treated?”

  “As far as I know. I’m not a doctor.”

  “When the tests come back you call me. If my presence is warranted, then I’ll see
about booking a flight. Right now Little Rock is experiencing blizzard conditions. I’m not sure I can even get a flight out. I have two important accounts to call on in the morning—”

  I interrupted his excuses. “More important than your wife?”

  The challenge lay between us like a coiled rattler. This was none of my business; this was Warren and Mazi’s affair, but at the moment I felt as if I was the only person in the world who cared about Mazi Hollingsworth’s welfare.

  Warren said sharply, “I beg your pardon?” Tension hummed over the wire as thick as lowland fog.

  “Listen, Warren. Here’s the hospital number.”

  I rattled off the digits, barely allowing him time to jot down the numbers.

  “I don’t know what room Mazi will be in, but if you care enough about your wife to call and inquire about her condition, ask to speak to Dr. Harding in Emergency. He can fill you in.”

  I hung up.

  Bonehead.

  He hadn’t bothered to ask what hospital.

  Chapter 19

  Thin sunlight cast a light orange glow in the sterile hospital room. Mazi lay on the narrow bed, drifting in and out of consciousness. She knew I was with her, but she was confused and perplexed. She wasn’t certain where she was or what had happened.

  Oddly enough, she hadn’t asked for Warren.

  The long night, filled with uncertainty, had provided me time to think about the people God had placed in my life. Devoted friends. My children. Neil.

  Mom.

  Madge.

  Mazi.

  All three would give their lives for friends and family. Tonight’s life-threatening experience with Mazi had made me realize how much I loved the three special women in my life, and how little I’d appreciated two of them.

  I rested my head on the side of the mattress and listened to the activity of a busy hospital. Shift change. New nurses coming and going—compassionate men and women who got small recognition and still smaller pay for the jobs they performed.

  I should have known about the diet pills. Within minutes of meeting her, Madge had caught on that something wasn’t right with Mazi. She misinterpreted my friend’s distracted behavior, but she’d been on the mark otherwise.

  Face it, Kate. You missed the warning signs because you are blind to any trouble other than that on your doorstep.

  I wasn’t the only woman in the world who had lost a husband, but I had acted as if I was. I’d cried, whined, ranted and raved, even tried to run away from my problems, and God had let me pitch my fit. I’d been acting like a spoiled child, throwing a first-class temper tantrum.

  Sure, I had a right to be angry. I didn’t have a right, however, to reject God and teach my children that trouble meant they could abandon trust and belief in times of crisis. Regret and remorse filled me until I thought I couldn’t breathe.

  How hardheaded could I be?

  Mazi’s eyes fluttered open and I eased closer to the bed. Her eyes focused on me, and I could see the uncertainty in her expression.

  “Kate? Where am I?”

  “You’re in the hospital.”

  She swallowed against a dry throat. “Why? Am I hurt?”

  “No. Do you remember anything about last night?”

  Her eyes closed. “I was upset. Warren called. He wasn’t coming home this weekend.”

  I spoke softly. “Remember the flat tire we fixed?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, the limousine owner sent you flowers—a simply unbelievably gorgeous bouquet. The size alone rivals the Rose Parade.”

  I was exaggerating, of course, but I needed her to know and to feel the excitement.

  She managed a faint smile. “He did?” Her eyes remained closed. “Does Warren know I’m here?”

  “He knows. I called him last night. He’d be here right now, but Little Rock is having a blizzard and flights are canceled.”

  Forgive me, God, but how can I tell her that her husband cares so little that he didn’t plan to fly home unless she worsens?

  “The bouquet is large?”

  “Honest, Mazi. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Imagine that. I thought he would forget.”

  My news could wait—forever, if need be. Mazi was my only concern and joy at the moment. I took a deep breath, not certain of how much to tell her regarding last night’s events.

  “The moment I got the bouquet, I brought it over. I yelled, but you didn’t answer.”

  Her face remained expressionless and I figured she knew where I was going.

  “Your door was unlocked, so I stepped inside and called you. When you didn’t answer I went looking for you.”

  “And you found me,” she whispered.

  “I called for an ambulance and they brought you here. You were very ill, Mazi. How long have you taken diet pills?”

  She opened her eyes and tears slid silently down her cheeks. “A while now. I knew they weren’t good for me, but it seemed like I couldn’t get through a week without them.”

  I squeezed her hand. “I’m so sorry. I was so wrapped up in my own troubles I never thought about you and any problems you might have.”

  Mazi used her free hand to wipe her eyes. “Oh, Kate, my life is such a mess. Warren is seldom home and when he is here, he’s so cold and distant. I’m afraid he doesn’t love me anymore.”

  I didn’t think his blood ran warm enough to love anyone. Warren was a first-class moron, but of course I didn’t tell Mazi. But she had to know.

  “You are deeply loved,” I told her. “I’ve been almost jealous sometimes at the way the girls carry on over you, and I love you so much.”

  I hadn’t realized the extent of my feelings until tonight when I’d thought I’d lost her.

  She seemed to brighten at that. “Really, Kate?”

  “Really, Mazi.”

  She blinked at the teardrops clustered on her lashes. Then her facade crumbled. “I think he’s involved with another woman.”

  Poor Mazi. Foolish Warren. How could any man not see what he had in this warm, wonderful woman?

  “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have understood.”

  She shook her head. “How could you possibly understand? Neil was everything that Warren isn’t. Warm, caring. Devoted husband. I’m a military brat, Kate. We moved around so often I never got to make close friends, the kind of friends that you confide in about your problems. I was brought up to believe that my problems were my problems. You don’t bother others with them.”

  “For the most part, problems are best shared with friends.”

  Mazi choked on sobs. “You think I don’t know how cold and indifferent my husband can be? I do, but I love him, Kate. And you’re so perfect.”

  I handed her the small box of hospital tissues and she blew her nose. Perfect? Me? The one who couldn’t cope, the wimp afraid of her shadow? The dedicated Christian who had tried to run away from God? I could think of quite a few adjectives that might describe me, but perfect wasn’t one of them.

  “If only you knew how imperfect I am. When Neil died, I shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. I didn’t have anything holding me together—not faith, not trust in a God I knew held my future. Nothing. I have wandered around in a faithless stupor, unable to function or care for my girls the way I should have. If it hadn’t been for you, I don’t know where I’d be right now.”

  Mazi wiped at tears. “Certainly not sitting in a hospital room with a foolish friend.”

  “You don’t understand, Mazi. I’ve been so afraid.”

  “Afraid of what?”

  “You wouldn’t understand. You’ve lived all over the world. You aren’t afraid to stay home when Warren’s gone. You accept and cope. I haven’t coped. I haven’t even come close.”

  She gave a rueful laugh. “You call what happened to me last night coping?”

  “Well, no, I guess not, but you function. Most of your decisions are good ones. The only decisions I’m capable of making are wrong ones.
”

  “You’ve done the best you could. You sold your house, you moved out here where you didn’t know anyone. Look at all you’ve accomplished.”

  “I never felt secure. I always worried.”

  “Who does feel secure? No matter what we have, it can be taken from us in a minute.”

  Aha. That was it. “No, that’s where you’re wrong. God’s love cannot be taken from us. We can be assured, if we are children of God. And He is able to handle the uncertainties of our lives.”

  Now I was thinking and sounding like the Kate Neil had fallen in love with.

  “I’m afraid of snakes and frogs and tornadoes and earthquakes. I’m afraid of the ocean and of bugs and germs. You name it, I’m afraid of it, but those aren’t eternal fears. I have no eternal fears because I’m confident in the One who holds my future. I simply forgot when Neil was taken away so unexpectedly.”

  I thought I caught a hint of a smile. “Well, I’m afraid of some of those things, too. Maybe the eternal fears more than the snakes and frogs. Being brave doesn’t mean you’re never afraid. It means you do what you have to do even if you’re scared.”

  I squeezed her hand and leaned over to whisper, “I think God has His eye on you, Mazi Hollingsworth. You can run, but you can’t hide. Trust me.”

  Her expression sobered. “I’ve had plenty of time to think about God and His acceptance, haven’t I?”

  I nodded. “I think you’re past the age of accountability.”

  Mazi reached for another tissue. She wiped the tears from her eyes and blew her nose. “You’ve got so much faith. I wish I could have just a small dose.” She stared at me, her lips quivering. “I’m addicted to diet pills, Kate. I’ve never admitted it before, but it’s true. I found a new doctor last week—he put me on even stronger ones. That’s why I’ve been so trembly and unsteady lately. I can’t come to God in this condition.”

  I drew a deep breath and explained the plan of salvation: repent and accept. So easy even a child could understand.

  She looked at me with the beginnings of new hope dawning in her eyes. “Give me a little time to think it over. But I promise I will.”

  The nurse came into the room, and I stepped out into the hallway. While people flowed around me, intent on their own purpose, I prayed for Mazi.