I'd not waste another minute.

So hard. Losing a friend. To alcohol. Oh, Julie is still around. Physically. She hasn't died yet. But she's only a sliver of her once vibrant self.  Julie's closest friends. Including husband Rick. And me. Suffer,  too. In anguish. Because we watch. Helplessly. As Julie continues to deteriorate. I encourage Rick. To place Julie into treatment. Into rehab. But Rick is convinced that Julie needs to take such a step. On her own. That she has to 'bottom out.' I'm afraid. That Julie will die first. Before she makes a decision to save herself. If I had my druthers. Julie would have been in treatment long ago. Other observers tell me. Be patient. Be Julie's friend. Be kind. Be considerate. Be consoling. Well, that's not good enough. I'd literally pick up malnourished and inebriate Julie. And carry her. For miles, if necessary. To the nearest rehab center.  I'm told Julie can't be kidnapped. Can't be forced. I don't buy into that baloney. I'd not waste another minute. --Jim Broede