I am sharing the published work of my mom. She wrote this while living on Salt Springs island around 2006.
My mom on the ferry ride just before sending this essay in 2006.
An Angel Named Larry
By Kati Dowling
My story is probably more common than anyone would like to admit. Mine is a success story with finally a happy ending or beginning, however, you want to look at it.
About 30 years ago I started dabbling in drugs. By the time I was 45 years old. I was a full-fledged junkie. Living in a doorway on the streets in the Downtown Eastside, Vancouver, I did everything a junkie does to get hight. Needless to say, I wasn’t the nicest person to be around.
Three years ago in June, while panhandling, I met an elderly man, Larry. After a few days of him buying me food and just getting to know him my story. It took a lot for me to trust anyone, let alone become a friend of sorts. I was gaunt, covered in sores and a little worried about why this man was taking such an interest in me. Eventually, when I told him my story and what if given the chance, I wanted out of life. Larry made me an offer, and after days of thinking about it, I couldn’t refuse.
Larry had a trailer that no one was using on one of the Gulf Islands. He said I could use it by paying little rent but with one condition. No Drugs. NO DRUGS! I wasn’t just a once a week user; I’m talking about 30 years of everyday cocaine use, at least a ball or two. Now heroin, which was my serious habit, was at least 200-300 dollars a day. So this talk of no dope was out of the question. After a few days of thinking about it, and knowing I wasn’t gonna be around long at the rate I was going. Larry’s proposition started to sound like a lifesaver. We made a deal and if It didn’t work I could always return to my old lifestyle.
Larry flew me via float plant, to my new home. I got myself set up on the methadone maintenance program and there I was, alone. For the first time in my life, I had no electricity, no water and I was scared beyond fear itself. I was so afraid at night I would stay up. I would sleep when I could during the day. It got so bad I even had thoughts of suicide. Never in my life had I felt this bad. I was so lonely and without drugs, which had always been there, my constant friend. I knew no one I could score from and I was sick. I slept on and off, and I hid in the trailer for the first ten months, but I always made my doctor’s appointment and went to the pharmacy daily for my prescribed methadone.
Eventually, Larry got the water running, and the day the electricity was hooked up was better than any Christmas. More importantly, I was healing. Through all the tears, pain and loneliness, I started to feel okay. I thought maybe, just maybe, I was going to make it. I wasn’t scared anymore. Larry bought me a cat for company, who is now my best friend.
I’ve rekindled my relationship with my children and parents, and every day is less of a struggle. I’ve almost got my weight back to normal, but I feel healthy. People say I have color in my eyes again, and I smile more now. For the first time, I am truly happy.
I never figured out why this happened but without help from God and an “Angel” named Larry, I would no longer exist. I am finally Living.
