Hospital Visits Suck

Today I visited someone in the hospital.
Her pneumonia is so severe that one of her lungs is ruptured and three-quarters full of fluid.
She weighs a mere 80lbs.
And she is detoxing off of meth, the main cause of her pneumonia.
Her pain was so extreme that she couldn't move, but she managed to engage in some conversation.

She says she'll only be in the hospital for another few days.
She hates it there.
Once she's out she'll immediately return to work.
I asked her what she did - she's a stripper, she said.
She doesn't have any other choice, she stated.

I barely had the chance to hold her hand and stroke back her hair out of her face, but how I wish I could do so much more.

I wish addiction didn't have such a firm grasp on her life.
So firm, its grasp, that she genuinely believes living as destructively as she does is her only option.
She knows it is destructive.
She's aware that she hasn't kissed her little baby girl in months.
And she's been offered nearly limitless rehab opportunities by people who still have hope for her.
Yet its a hope she doesn't know how to hold for herself.
She's surrendered and been overpowered by addiction and hopelessness that now also determine her options, and she's clear in that she has no desire to fight it against its reality.

And there's really nothing I can do but try and express my care for her...