ElderPride4me

ElderPride4me Spiritual and Community Resources for Senior LGBTQ elders and their allies!

In 1818, two remarkable things happened. Wi******er became a city. It was built to serve as the center of government for...
03/26/2026

In 1818, two remarkable things happened. Wi******er became a city. It was built to serve as the center of government for Randolph County in a state that was just two years old.
At the same time, just east and north of Greenville, Ohio, the United States government was meeting with representatives of the Miami, Delaware, and other Indigenous peoples. The bottom line: the government wanted their land, land they had lived on for hundreds of years.
They were offered $4,000($39,000 today) and the promise of unlimited land west of the Mississippi River in Missouri. All they had to do was leave. This agreement became known as the Treaty of St. Mary’s.
They left.
The land was taken over by colonizers from the East. And yes—they were deceived. There was no land waiting for them in Missouri. Desperation caused them to fragment. Many died along their own trails of tears. Others who survived eventually made their way to Oklahoma, where many later perished as well.
Why am I bringing this up now?
Because as we gather to celebrate our country’s 250th birthday, I fear we have not changed as much as we would like to believe. More than anything, we still fail to see the hypocrisy in our own thoughts and actions.
We are a nation of immigrants. Every one of us has ancestors who came here from somewhere else. And yet, in order to justify taking from others, we label them as “other.”
We did it to Indigenous peoples. And we are still doing it today.
We tell ourselves stories—about jobs being taken, votes being stolen, and our beliefs being the only true beliefs. But the real question is this:
Is this who we truly want to be?
This Saturday, millions of people across the country will participate in “No Kings Day.” I am urging you—no, I am asking you—to be one of them.
Why? Because our democracy is at stake.
We have never been closer to losing the very principles and values set forth in our Constitution. This is the moment to stand up. This is the moment to be seen. This is the moment to act.
Get out there. Stand up for democracy.
We fled a monarch. We vowed never to have one again. And yet—look at where we are.
Hypocrisy is the cancer that will bring us down. No outside force will destroy us—we will do it to ourselves if we are not willing to act.
And when your children and grandchildren ask you what you did to protect our democracy—what will you say?
The greatest gift our democracy offers is the right to raise our voices in the public square—to stand on our soapbox and declare what we believe, knowing we are safe to do so.
This is not about being Republican or Democrat. This is about democracy itself.
It is about protecting our Constitution.
It is about ensuring our government works for all people.
It is about honoring the balance and integrity of all three branches of government.
That is why participating in “No Kings Day” matters.
There is a South African concept called Sankofa—to look back at our history, learn from it, and move forward with wisdom and intention.
Now is that moment.
No matter where you live, there will be a “No Kings Day” gathering within reach. Find one. Show up. Be counted.
Visit: www.lcv.org/nokings
And if you cannot attend—then pray.
Pray that we remember who we are.
Pray that we recognize we are far more alike than different.
Pray that we commit ourselves to justice, equality, and inclusion.
Pray for an outcome that serves the highest and best for all.
But above all—do something.
History is watching.

Jack
Preacher… got to preach.
Please like and share.

🌿 Spring Book Club Invitation – Let’s Grow Together 🌿You are warmly invited to join us this April and May for a meaningf...
03/24/2026

🌿 Spring Book Club Invitation – Let’s Grow Together 🌿

You are warmly invited to join us this April and May for a meaningful and heart-opening book study as part of our Let’s Talk Science of Mind class.

📖 Book Selection: When Things Fall Apart by Pema Chödrön
🗓 Dates: Sundays, April 5 – May 31
⏰ Time: 9:30 AM – 10:15 AM (PT)
💻 Where: Zoom via www.elderpride4me.org click the zoom-in link at the top of the page.

👤 Facilitated by: Rev. Jack Elliott

Together, we will explore how to stay present and open during life’s most challenging moments. This powerful book teaches us how to embrace uncertainty with compassion and mindfulness—transforming pain into wisdom and fear into a pathway toward genuine peace and awakening.

✨ Each week offers a supportive space for in-depth discussion, reflection, and spiritual growth in community.

About the Author
Pema Chödrön is an American Tibetan Buddhist nun and a student of Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche. She is beloved for making profound Buddhist teachings accessible, guiding readers to meet life’s challenges with compassion, awareness, and courage.

💫 Come as you are. Grow with us.
We would love to have you be part of this sacred conversation.

03/17/2026

Spring Forward with ElderPride
ElderPride warmly invites you to spring forward—embracing your intention to age with grace, vitality, and ease. This season, we are offering a variety of enriching opportunities designed to support your spiritual growth, personal empowerment, and joyful living.
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Let’s Talk Science of Mind
Join Rev. Jack each week from 9:30 AM to 10:15 AM for an engaging and thought-provoking discussion centered on books that deepen our understanding as students of the Science of Mind.
What is the Science of Mind?
The Science of Mind is a spiritual philosophy that teaches the power of thought, intention, and consciousness in shaping our lives. Rooted in universal spiritual principles, it empowers individuals to align with a higher presence, cultivate inner awareness, and consciously create lives of meaning, purpose, and fulfillment.
Spring & Summer Reading Selections:
• When Things Fall Apart by Pema Chödrön (April–May)
• Life: Reflections on Your Journey by Louise Hay (June–July)
• Practicing the Presence by Joel S. Goldsmith (August)
• Mastering 1, 2, 3 by Ken Elliott (September–October)
We will also continue to draw inspiration from:
• The Pivot Year by Brianna Wiest
• Daily readings from the Science of Mind Magazine
These books are available on Amazon and through your favorite booksellers.
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Sage Talks with Rev. Jack
Each week, Rev. Jack shares an inspiring and empowering message through Sunday services at:
• Center for Spiritual Living Visalia — (cslvisalia.org)
• Heart and Soul Center of Light — (heartsoulcenter.org)
Visit each website for direct access to livestreams and service details.
Special In-Person Appearances:
• April 5, 2026 — CSL Visalia
• May 29, 2026 — Heart and Soul Center of Light
We invite you to join us in person or online for these powerful gatherings.
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Summer School 2026
Beginning July 15, 2026, Rev. Jack joins Rev. Dr. Andriette Earl to co-facilitate four consecutive Wednesday evening sessions.
• Time: 6:00 PM – 8:00 PM (PDT)
• Format: Virtual (via Zoom)
• Companion Book: The Pivot Year by Brianna Wiest
This series is offered as a gift to the community (love offerings are welcomed).
Registration opens June 1st at: heartsoulcenter.org
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Spiritual Life Coaching
Rev. Jack offers transformative Spiritual Life Coaching sessions designed to help you better understand your life’s journey—and consciously create the future you desire.
Through compassionate guidance and spiritual insight, you will be supported in moving from where you are to where you are called to be.
• First Session: Complimentary (30 minutes)
• Ongoing Packages: 4, 6, or 8-week series
• Session Length: 50 minutes
• Format: Zoom or phone
To schedule your complimentary session, please contact:
[email protected]
Appointments beginning in April are now available.
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Step Into Your Next Season
This spring, choose to move forward with intention.
Choose connection. Choose growth. Choose you.
ElderPride is here to walk with you—every step of the way.

Snow, snow, snow! I am reminded of that song from White Christmas when the cast is on the train headed for Vermont and e...
02/04/2026

Snow, snow, snow! I am reminded of that song from White Christmas when the cast is on the train headed for Vermont and everyone sings, “Snow, Snow, Snow!” And now, I find myself about eight inches deep in snow. Not really—I am warm and cozy in my Indiana cottage. It’s my sanctuary. It’s where I can slow the hectic pace of life down just a bit. Yes, I still take the occasional Zoom meeting, but mostly my focus is on the novel I’m writing, Sometimes Doing Nothing Is Doing Something, and my play, Let’s Get Two Things Straight…. I have set my intention to finish both and have them ready for publication in 2026. Proudly, I’m on track with that intention—though just barely.

Many of my California friends wonder why I choose January to return to Indiana. Believe me, I get it. But I wanted to know that I could do it if I had to do it. While I am blessed to have two homes—one in California and one in Indiana—my cottage in Indiana is now my legal and primary home. And should the time come when my only source of income is my Social Security check, Indiana is the only place where I could live on that income alone.

To that end, I have endeavored to make my little cottage as homey as possible. I’ll admit that, in my mind, I questioned my logic for returning in January. Then, early Saturday morning, I awakened around 4:00 a.m. The bedroom was filled with light. At first, I questioned all the light that seemed to fill the room. Had I left a light on? No—the light was coming from the south-facing bedroom window. I jumped up—well, maybe it’s better to say I got up as quickly as my 72-year-old body would allow—opened the blinds, and peered out the window.

All I could see was a white blanket of snow. The light was the reflection of the moon. The moon and the snow illuminated the night as if I were gazing upon a Currier and Ives Christmas painting. I felt myself sigh and heard myself say, “I’m home.”

How could something I knew to be so cold simultaneously seem so warm and welcoming? As I stood there, a slight chill came over me, but I didn’t want to take my eyes off the window and the winter wonderland before me. I spotted Grandma Elliott’s quilt folded neatly on the shelf in the credenza—a quilt I had treasured for over seventy years. A patchwork quilt made of tiny squares of old house dresses she had worn so many years ago. I treasured it, kept it safe, and never used it.

Spirit guided me to reach for it. I felt a bit guilty as I wrapped it around me, and then I heard a voice say, “I made this for you to use it!” Of course she did. I imagined that with each hand-sewn stitch, she envisioned this blanket keeping me warm someday. And now, that day had come. Now, it was time to use the quilt—it’s what she would have wanted.

I am indeed blessed. To answer the age-old question, “Can one ever really go home again?”—the answer is yes. It may not look the same, but the memories will always be with you.

Let it snow; let it snow.

Find Your JoyI have a favorite content creator on TikTok. He’s an elementary school teacher and a stand-up comedian. He ...
12/26/2025

Find Your Joy
I have a favorite content creator on TikTok. He’s an elementary school teacher and a stand-up comedian. He finds the most delightful ways to share the antics of kindergarten students experiencing the creative arts under his tutelage. He ends every Reel, story, or post with the words: “Find Your Joy.”
It’s an amazing reminder that joy is an inside-out job.
As we move through the 2025 holiday season, I want to remind you that hundreds of people—even people you know—feel isolated, alone, or dare I say, forgotten during this time of year. Reach out. Check in. Maybe even include them in your activities. They won’t ask. If you ask them what they need, they likely won’t say. But if Spirit has placed the thought of them in your mind and in your heart, know that you are being called to reach out.
However, for this post, I want to reach out to the person who feels isolated, who feels forgotten, who may be finding themselves alone for the very first time this holiday season. My words to you are simple: Find your joy.
On the holiday itself, you may choose to volunteer somewhere that’s serving a meal to others. You may decide to start a new book. Or, like millions of others, you may take yourself to the movies. Go for a walk. Spend some time in nature. Write a letter to a friend you’d love to spend time with, but miles or circumstances keep you apart this year.
Have a plan to find your joy. Make a pie, a batch of cookies, or some banana nut bread just for you. Bring out the good china, the placemats, and the napkins—just for you. Find your joy.
Each holiday, I’m reminded of a column I wrote nearly twenty years ago for the Tracy Press. It was one of my favorites and one that many people shared with me really spoke to them. It was the story of a father and daughter who found joy on Christmas morning, despite the difficult circumstances of their lives. I want to share it with you now.

It was Christmas morning. I was up early preparing the ham and all the side dishes for our Christmas Day dinner. One of the things I love most on Christmas morning is fresh-baked cinnamon rolls and a good cup of Peet’s coffee. It’s the perfect start to a perfect day.
Everything was going perfectly—the rolls were fresh out of the oven, and the coffee had just finished brewing. I poured a cup into my favorite holiday mug and opened the refrigerator to add just a bit of milk.
Only… there was no milk.
Yikes.
I needed milk not only for my coffee, but for an assortment of other things to finish our Christmas meal. It was 7:00 a.m. on Christmas morning, and nothing was open.
Then I remembered—clear across town—there was a 7-Eleven.
I threw on some sweats, jumped in the car, and backed out of the garage. As I watched the garage door close, I became immediately aware that I could no longer see the door—or even the front of my house. Tracy was socked in with the densest layer of fog I had ever seen.
Regardless, I still needed milk.
“I can do this,” I told myself. After all, I grew up in Indiana. I’ve driven through blizzards on glare-ice-covered roads. I could handle this fog.
For those of you who know—well, you know—there’s nothing quite like Tule fog in California’s Central Valley. It’s dense, more green than gray. Luckily, I seemed to be the only one on the road that morning, but every once in a while, another car would come out of nowhere and startle me.
Five miles an hour was my top speed. Every intersection felt like a treacherous river to cross. It was one of those moments when you think, If I roll down the window, somehow I’ll be able to see better.
As I inched closer to the intersection of Holly Boulevard and Grant Line Road, I heard something.
I heard people.
The only problem was, I couldn’t see the people I was hearing in the distance. It was laughter. Was that what I was hearing? Laughter?
I slowed to a crawl, keeping my eyes peeled for the voices I could hear but not see. It was the sound of a man in full-throated laughter—and a little girl, maybe five years old, screaming, “Daddy! This is the most fun ever!”
As I got closer to the large intersection, I noticed the fog lifting. It hovered just above the rooftops and businesses. And then I saw them.
A man.
A little girl.
And a grocery cart.
Because there was no traffic, they were playing—dancing and whirling around the intersection with pure glee. The little girl’s daddy was pushing her in the cart, making circles and figure eights. She squealed with joy.
As I waited for them to make their way to one side of the intersection, I was overwhelmed with gratitude that I got to witness such spontaneous joy. No gift from a toy store could have made her happier than that moment with her father. And no greater joy could have come his way than seeing the expression of delight on his daughter’s face in such a magical moment.
I waved as I crossed the intersection and pulled into the 7-Eleven. As I got out of the car, I called out, “Merry Christmas!”
The man called back, “Merry Christmas to you!”
“I’m going inside—can I get you anything?” I asked. I sensed they might be homeless, and I felt called to ask.
“No, we’re good. Thank you,” the man replied.
And with that, they resumed their play.
He was right. They were good. They had found their joy.
It was a Christmas morning I will never forget.

Please like, comment and share this story with someone you think will enjoy it. May your holiday be filled with Joy.

ElderPride • Giving Tuesday AppealDecember 2, 2025Dear Friend of ElderPride,As we enter this sacred season of generosity...
12/02/2025

ElderPride • Giving Tuesday Appeal
December 2, 2025
Dear Friend of ElderPride,

As we enter this sacred season of generosity, I invite you to remember us here at ElderPride—your community dedicated to supporting LGBTQIA elders and those who love them. This Giving Tuesday is especially meaningful for us as we celebrate six years of service, connection, advocacy, and love.

Over these six years, ElderPride has grown from a small circle of care into a national and international presence, offering spiritual nourishment, community, and practical support to LGBTQIA elders who too often face aging in isolation. You have helped make this possible.

Looking Ahead: Big Plans for 2026
Your generosity today directly fuels the transformational work we have planned for 2026, including:
• Expanding our national and international reach through the ElderPride Podcast
• Launching The Sage Talk Podcast, featuring my Sunday messages in a powerful, accessible audio format
• Integrating our ElderPride website with our new Substack channel, increasing access to articles, teachings, and elder-centered resources
• Strengthening community connections for elders who rely on ElderPride as their spiritual home
These initiatives grew out of the goals outlined in our 2025 Annual Report and they represent our next bold step in serving our beloved community.
Your Gift Makes an Immediate Difference
A gift of any amount enrolls you as a General Member of ElderPride, giving you:
• First alerts when new podcasts drop
• Advance access to articles, essays, and resources
• Early notice of my in-person speaking dates in Visalia and Oakland
• A meaningful role in sustaining the spiritual well-being of LGBTQIA elders across the country
Become a Sustaining Member
Our Sustaining Members pledge gifts on a recurring basis—monthly, weekly, or semi-weekly. These ongoing commitments form the foundation of our annual budget and allow us to plan for programming with confidence.
Sustaining Members receive all General Member benefits plus:
• Discounted or complimentary enrollment in ElderPride classes, workshops, and seminars
• Eligibility to participate in our Annual Membership Business Meeting each January
• A deeper partnership in shaping the future of ElderPride

If you wish to become a sustaining member, simply reply to this email with your intended pledge amount and the frequency of your gift.

Ways to Give This Giving Tuesday
Your Giving Tuesday gift can be made in two simple ways:
1. Online:
Please go to www.elderpride4me.org and click the donate button.
Give to ElderPride
2. By Mail:
If you prefer to mail your donation, you may send it to our secure address:
5627 Telegraph Avenue, #392
Oakland, CA 94609

Every gift—large or small—helps us continue our vital mission of ensuring that LGBTQIA elders age forward with dignity, connection, and joy.

With Deep Gratitude, Thank you for your faithful support over the years. I am profoundly grateful. And I thank you in advance for the gift you will offer this Giving Tuesday as we continue to build a world where all elders know they are seen, valued, and loved.

With love and gratitude,
Rev. Jack Elliott
Spiritual Director
ElderPride Incorporated
A CSL Focus Ministry

Don’t Get it Twisted Sometimes Introverts Make the Best StoriesI have often suspected that the best storytellers are int...
11/18/2025

Don’t Get it Twisted Sometimes Introverts Make the Best Stories

I have often suspected that the best storytellers are introverts passing as extraverts. Perhaps that’s the secret to their ability to tell an engaging story.
As a young child, I remember being transfixed by every word Grandpa Elliott uttered as he told the story of Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox. He told the tale of the days Paul walked the hills and valleys of Randolph County—and even right down this very road (Huntsville Road).
“Did you ever see that big old rock just up the road? Well, legend has it that one day the Blue Ox wasn’t paying any attention to Paul. Paul got so irritated he reached up, snapped a chunk off the top of one of those mountains along the Appalachian Trail, and threw it at her! That rock ricocheted right off the old bell around her neck and landed right up the road. All you see now is the bottom of that rock—but its point goes so far down into the earth, no man has ever been able to pull it out!”
As my brother and I made our way back into town, we’d drive right by that big old boulder sitting in the corner of the field on the west side of Huntsville Road.
Was the story true? No.
But did Grandpa Elliott make me believe it? Absolutely.
Whether he was telling a tale about a fish caught, a deer shot, or even a bit of gossip about a neighbor down the road, he made the story mesmerizing. His cadence hooked you in. Even if you’d heard the story ten or twelve times, you still couldn’t wait to hear how he’d reveal the climax. You knew it was coming, but you were still filled with a supernatural expectation and surprise every time.
As a child, my whole reason for learning to ride my bike was so I could ride out to Grandma and Grandpa Elliott’s just to hear him tell one of his stories. From the big old chair in the corner of his living room, he would hold court. All eyes were on him.
Grandma Elliott passed away when I was about ten. After she was gone, he stopped telling his stories.
Years later—many years later—my brother and I were reminiscing about Grandpa. My brother turned to me and asked a very poignant question:
“What did Grandpa Elliott do for a living?”
I opened my mouth to answer, and then I realized…I had no answer.
Was he a farmer? No. They lived in the country, but their little house sat on a corner lot, about half an acre. Fields surrounded them, but none of those fields were theirs.
Did he work at the glass factory in town? No. Grandma did from time to time, but not Grandpa.
Neither of us could come up with one fact—not even a story—about how that man made a living.
As I pondered this more deeply, I realized that in all the stories he told, he never spoke of himself. I have no idea how he met my grandmother. I don’t know where he went to school or how far he went. I don’t know how his father John or his grandfather Robert made their way from Randolph County, North Carolina, to Randolph County, Indiana, or why.
This dynamic storyteller kept his own story to himself.
I realized that if he wasn’t in his big comfy chair telling a tale, he didn’t seem to be around at all. Grandma cooked, cleaned, and served wonderful Sunday dinners—but afterward, she’d go outside and wouldn’t be seen again until we were about to leave. Was this man—who appeared to be such a big extravert—actually a quiet introvert who kept mostly to himself?
Don’t get it twisted: introverts can make amazing public teachers, ministers, and yes, storytellers. Think about those incredible actors you love watching in movies—but who you never see on the red carpet.
I am such an introvert. From time to time, I thrive when I’m onstage performing in a play, delivering a TED Talk, or teaching a class. And while I love the energy of an audience, I am even happier at home—alone.
Don’t get it twisted: I love people…just in controlled circumstances.
I don’t enjoy sitting in a theater watching a play, but I thrive standing in the back of the auditorium watching the audience enjoy a play. I learn ten times more from teaching a class than I ever learn from being a student in one. I can tell an engaging story and make you think about things you’ve never considered before—but once I step off stage, a meet-and-greet reception line exhausts me.
I travel best alone.
I am content eating a wonderful dinner alone.
I would rather throw a party than attend one.
These are the quirks of an introvert with a big public persona.
I no doubt inherited my storytelling gene from my grandfather—and most likely inherited my contentment with staying home and not seeing another human for days from him as well.
Here’s what I offer you as a closing thought: whether you are an extravert or an introvert, be your authentic self. Do you.
A few years ago, I hosted a small holiday gathering for twenty or twenty-five people. When one of my guests arrived, she handed me a hostess gift and hugged me. She said:
“I want to thank you for inviting me. I appreciate your kindness, and I wouldn’t have missed your party for the world. But I’m going to say goodbye and thank you right now—because in a little bit, I’m going to do an Irish exit. Nothing personal, but when my tank gets full, it’s full, and I’m out of here.”
And she was true to her authentic self. An hour or so into the gathering, I looked around and—sure enough—she was gone.
Just like Grandpa Elliott after he finished his dessert at Sunday dinner: he’d disappear. We wouldn’t see him again until we were pulling out of the driveway and he’d come around the corner of the barn to wave a heartfelt goodbye.
Did you enjoy this short story?
If yes, please like, share, and leave us a comment about how this essay spoke to you.
If you’d like to support Rev. Jack’s work, go to www.elderpride4me.org and click on the Donate button.
All proceeds benefit the work we do at ElderPride.

Sometimes the Drug Dealer Wears a White CoatThe girls gathered almost every week. Sometimes it was for breakfast in a di...
11/07/2025

Sometimes the Drug Dealer Wears a White Coat
The girls gathered almost every week. Sometimes it was for breakfast in a diner or café; other times it was a white-linen restaurant for a leisurely lunch or early dinner. They had been getting together like this for nearly sixty years.
In the early years, family gatherings brought them together to celebrate birthdays, anniversaries, and other festive occasions—while the husbands did what husbands did, the women talked about whatever their kids were up to. They had been the cheerleaders in high school, and their boyfriends were the starting five players on McKinley High’s basketball team. Six couples who not only grew up together but traversed all the pitfalls of life together.
Now, they were all widows. The kids had grown up and moved away to other states. It was just them. When they attended their 60th high school reunion, they were amazed to find that they were the only women in their class still alive.
This realization made their bond even stronger as they entered their eighties. Three of them still drove, so their frequent luncheons or brunches were often scheduled before—or immediately after—one of their doctor’s appointments. Whenever possible, they’d all go together. They served as witnesses to one another’s medical regimens, and as advocates who would speak up for each other if one of the ladies decided she “didn’t want to bother the doctor.”
Their travels took them to specialists in Fort Wayne, Wabash, Indianapolis, Muncie, Richmond, Dayton, Greenville, and other nearby cities. Soon, though, they discovered something was amiss with one of the ladies.
Typically, there were two or maybe three such outings each month. But a few months ago, one of them had hip replacement surgery. All seemed to be going well—until the others noticed an unusual pattern emerging. The week immediately following the surgery, everyone went along for the patient’s follow-up appointment. But two weeks later, she asked just one of the ladies to accompany her to another follow-up. Two weeks after that, she asked a third friend to take her to yet another appointment—this time in another city.
She told one driver that, although her surgery was in Dayton, this doctor also had a practice in Greenville, so her post-op follow-up could be done there. She told another that the surgeon also had an office in Muncie, and she needed to go there for her next visit.
Three months in, the other women began to get wise—and to talk to one another. They soon deduced that their friend was seeing three different doctors for the same post-op pain treatments. They stewed in confusion for another week or two, wondering why their friend not only saw multiple doctors but also picked up prescriptions at three different pharmacies.
One of the ladies decided to share their concerns with one of her adult children. After hearing the story about the multiple doctors and pharmacies, the son said something his mother did not want to hear.
“Mom… she’s addicted to opioids.”
“No, she’s not! She’s not a drug addict! How could you say such a thing about one of my friends?”
“Mom. Trust me. The next time she goes to the doctor, go with her—and casually mention that she’s also seeing two other doctors. See what the doctor says.”
She did. And let’s just say—in the parking lot of that doctor’s office, the five of them held an intervention with their friend. They shared their feelings about being tricked and used to carry out the charade. The woman confessed, saying she had to find other doctors because her own physician would only prescribe enough medication for fourteen days.
Together, they came up with a plan to support their friend: one doctor, one pharmacy, and no appointments without at least two of them present.
As with most traumatic stories, once caught, the woman felt relieved. She had been draining her life savings to pay cash for the opioids. Her insurance covered only the initial fourteen days post-op—everything after that was out of pocket. In three months, she had spent nearly $8,000.
Don’t get it twisted: medical advancements have made living longer much easier. We can rebuild knees and hips, fuse discs to relieve back pain, and even survive having our chests cracked open for bypass surgery. Drugs help us manage pain as our bodies heal—but addiction is the shadow of darkness ever present in such situations. You need an ally, an advocate, and perhaps even a co-conspirator to help you navigate your health care.
Chemical addiction cannot be healed by willpower alone. And yes—even nice ladies who lunch can fall victim to the dark side of pain medication.
Stay informed. Educate yourself. And if it’s too much for you, find a friend to do the research—and help you fully enjoy that new hip, knee, or cleared artery.

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Oakland, CA
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