Authors Interviewing Characters: Patsy C. Robertson

A CONCOCTION OF LIES

Yvonne Hollister is a wealthy, older woman who has led a privileged life in the US and Belize. But she’s suffering from chronic depression after the unexpected deaths of her immediate family members. She’s failed in-patient and outpatient therapies and is now a functional addict hooked on both prescription drugs and alcohol.

Vonnie believes her family’s banana plantation in Belize is the last link in the chain holding her in the past and preventing her from healing. So, she leaves North Carolina and moves to Belize to sell it. But once there, nothing goes as planned, and a love affair with an unscrupulous businessman puts her, her friends, and the plantation in danger.

Chance Moore is fleeing from a Guatemalan cartel from which he’s stolen money when cartel soldiers mortally wound him.

Chance and Vonnie’s lives become intertwined when Chance is found close to death on Vonnie’s plantation and is moved into her house to recover. While Vonnie struggles to overcome her addiction and solve her problems, Chance is impatient to leave the plantation before the cartel discovers where he is. But covert intelligence has led cartel soldiers illegally across the Belize border—and they know exactly where to find him.

Patsy Robertson interviews Yvonne Hollister

PR: Hi, Yvonne. Thank you for granting me the opportunity to interview with you. People have been asking about you since A Concoction of Lies was published.

VH: It’s my pleasure, but please, call me Vonnie. I suppose my life is an open book now, even though some of what was written about me was embarrassing. But I own it; my life was different then. A lot of my past behaviors were due to a combination of depression and addiction.

PR: Thank you for bringing that up; it’s the perfect place to start our conversation. Several of my readers questioned how you could fail to deal with those challenges, given your age.

VH: You can easily find information about depression in older adults. But addiction in senior citizens is like a hidden disease that no one talks about, even though it’s just as prevalent in Baby Boomers as any other group.

PR: Are you comfortable delving deeper and providing more insight into your journey to sobriety?

VH: I don’t mind at all. It needs to be discussed more often. Sweeping it under the rug and pretending it isn’t an issue is a huge part of the problem.

I doubt anyone in their mid-fifties wakes up one day and decides to become a prescription drug addict and alcoholic. I was diagnosed with acute osteoarthritis in my right hip and knee, and oxycodone was supposed to be a temporary solution until I had hip and knee surgery, which was scheduled for the next month. But Russ, the love of my life for twenty-five years, died three days before the surgery. I was in mourning, and there was so much to do that I postponed the surgery and opted for a higher dose of oxycodone until things settled down.

PR: But you knew oxycodone was addictive, right?

VH: Yes. My doctor explained everything and prescribed only enough to last until I had the surgery. I read the paperwork and followed the instructions.

PR: Did you have the surgery after Russ died?

VH: No. After Russ died, I was an emotional and mental wreck, and the oxycodone not only relieved the physical pain but also relaxed me.

PR: Did you tell your doctor how the grief over Russ’s death was affecting you?

VH: Yes, we talked, and she discontinued the oxycodone, replaced it with something without the adverse side effects, and asked me to reschedule my surgery as soon as possible. She also referred me to a grief counselor. The new prescription didn’t work as effectively as oxycodone. Everything in my body hurt; I was agitated, nauseous, unable to sleep; I was miserable.

PR: What did your doctor say about the withdrawal symptoms? It sounds as if they were severe.

VH: I didn’t tell her because I knew she wouldn’t re-prescribe the oxycodone, so I went to the internet, found a telemedicine website, gave them my credit card information, and started receiving oxycodone in the mail. It was that easy.

PR: So, then you realized you were addicted?

VH: The word ‘addiction’ never registered in my brain. The term everyone used was ‘pain management’ ―I was managing my pain, that’s all.

PR: But what about the hip and knee surgery? Wouldn’t that have relieved the physical pain?

VH: Surgery was the last thing on my mind. I was mourning Russ, trying to settle his estate and run my business. Then, nine months after burying Russ, unexpectedly, heart failure took my mom, and almost one year after her death, my dad suffered a fatal stroke. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I’m an only child, and there were no close relatives to help me deal with any of it. I was overwhelmed by the sequential deaths of the three people I loved most in the world. I crashed and burned.

PR: I’m sorry for your losses; please accept my condolences. That’s a lot of heartache to suffer in three years.

VH: Thank you. It was horrible. After my mom’s death, I started seeing a psychiatrist for depression and anxiety, and that’s when benzodiazepines became a part of my life. That’s also when I discovered it’s one of the most common classes of drugs prescribed for people over fifty. I was in good company.

PR: Was your psychiatrist aware of your opioid use when she prescribed the Benzos?

VH: No, I knew better than to tell her that. The real problems didn’t begin until after my dad’s death. I wasn’t following the instructions on the prescription labels, and the cases of wine left after I closed my store didn’t help the situation. Most days, I was totally dysfunctional. Finally, one of my girlfriends interceded, and I checked myself into the first of several in-patient drug and alcohol treatment facilities.

PR: Thank goodness for girlfriends. Sounds like she was a true friend.

VH: She was, but later, she gave up on me, and I don’t blame her. I’m an educated woman. I owned a vibrant business and was an active, upstanding member of the local society―everyone knew me. I was too ashamed to let anyone know I was popping pills like candy, drinking like a fish, and living like a hoarder because I wasn’t mentally or emotionally strong enough to manage my life.

PR: So, how did your treatment progress?

VH: I rotated between in-patient facilities and outpatient counseling programs over the next two years. It was the typical rollercoaster ride of addiction.

PR: It’s hard to believe that you were mixing opioids, benzodiazepines, and alcohol. That’s so dangerous it blows my mind! Weren’t you afraid of overdosing?

VH: Of course I was. That’s why I kept going back to treatment. After my last in-patient stay, the oxycodone use was down significantly, but I always kept a secret stash handy for when the arthritis became too painful. Surprisingly, I wasn’t drinking because the Benzos helped with the alcohol withdrawal. But the Benzos were a Catch-22. They were more of a crutch than Oxy or alcohol.

PR: How so?

Few people can bear Benzos withdrawal, and the medical professionals I was relying on weren’t on the same page about the best method for weaning me off the drug. As long as I took them as prescribed, I was functional. Finally, like so many people taking Benzos who want to quit but can’t, I continued taking them. It was the safest alternative.

PR: I don’t know what to say; I didn’t realize Benzos withdrawal was that bad. But you continued seeing a psychiatrist, right?

VH: Yes, during my rollercoaster ride, there had been several. But I finally found one who managed to put me on a waiting list for a facility in Florida that specializes in benzodiazepine addition. There was an eighteen-month waiting list, can you believe it?

PR: So, was it during that eighteen-month waiting period that you went to Belize to sell the plantation?

VH: Yes. I hadn’t been back in the three years since my father died. It was time to sell it, but it was the most dreaded decision of my life and terrified me. I thought I was mentally and emotionally stable enough to handle it, but now that I think back on it, I was over-confident. Once I was in Belize, nothing went as planned. The pandemic turned the world upside down. I became romantically involved with that despicable scoundrel, Dominic, and I slipped back into my old addictive habits―popping pills and drinking.

PR: You didn’t mention Chance Moore’s impact on your situation.

VH: We can’t leave Chance out now, can we? [Laughs]. When we moved Chance into my house, he was close to death. But my best friend, Dr. Ana, worked her magic and put him on the road to recovery. While he was in my house, I was extremely careful with my medication and drinking. Then cartel soldiers attacked and burned the plantation and my house, searching for him.

I was forced to reveal my addictions to Ana because I was immobilized by the trauma, and all my prescription drugs were in the burned house. Ana immediately contacted my doctor in the US and came up with a treatment plan. The entire tragic event changed my perspective. So, if Chance had never come into my life, I don’t know where I’d be today.

PR: So, where are you today? I’m referring to your recovery.

VH: I’m doing well; I’m very fortunate. As soon as I returned to North Carolina, I had knee and hip surgery. Then, three months after being admitted to the Florida drug and alcohol treatment facility, I moved to Florida to be closer to the facility. The process for weaning a person off Benzos is long and slow, and my program requires medical supervision. I’ll be sixty-two in a few months, and I’ve never felt more confident about my future.

PR: That sounds wonderful. I’m happy to hear you’re progressing well. Any advice for older adults who may be struggling with depression or addiction?

VH: Sure. First, there’s nothing to be ashamed of―we’re human, and humans are imperfect; we’re all flawed. Second, You don’t have to do it alone. Don’t be afraid to ask for or seek help. If you have medical insurance that includes mental health coverage, use it. If not, there are national and local crisis helplines and anonymous organizations, i.e., Alcohol Anonymous, Narcotics Anonymous, etc. Just remember to be patient, and gentle with yourself. Life is a journey that is best taken one step at a time.

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Patsy Robertson is a native North Carolinian. Her entire career and educational achievements were in computer technology. This fascinating industry allowed her to travel extensively, domestically and internationally, and meet various types of people along the way. These experiences stoked a sense of adventure, finally leading her to write her first novel.

She intends to continue engaging readers in thrilling multicultural fiction novels that depict the blended relationships and experiences of African Americans and people within the communities that make up the global African diaspora.

 

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Category: Interviews, On Writing