If anyone is curious as to how the detox story progresses:
WARNING: Might be longer than OrangeSwan's great stories and not nearly as humorous.
→[More:]
Well, after over a week of hospitalized detox, my friend M got discharged from the hospital Tuesday. She told our friend V to pick her up, but didn't want anyone else informed. Word spread rapidly, of course.

Considering more than a few statements that just don't add up, and several confirmed lies, I have a hard time believing her discharge wasn't against medical advice.

I saw M as I was arriving home from work. She indicated that she was going to turn off her phone (returned from me, and I was reimbursed the phone bill; kind of business-like) and wanted to be left alone. Not so unusual, from either of us. She was still very shaky and hadn't showered at the hospital (On Saturday, she wasn't allowed out of bed for fear of having a stroke, so sending her home without making sure she could take basic care of herself sent up many red flags.).

Shortly after, when all of our children were at a weekly indoor swimming thing, she called friend, V, and yelled at her for dumping out her alcohol supply. V wasn't the person who'd even done that.

Another friend, C, stopped by her house about a half hour later and her car wasn't there. C went driving around a short bit and saw M go to the grocery store and, of course, the drive-thru of the liquor store.

After the kids returned home, M sent her daughter to my home to ask about, in this order, her missing booze and her missing son. I mostly honestly didn't know the location of either and said so. The son was found by his little sister at his father's, and she convinced him to return to their mom's with her, even if just for a little bit. When they got there, M immediately started yelling at her son about the missing alcohol. He refused to answer. She slapped him hard enough to knock the glasses off of his face and a few other blows. He ran to his dad's (a couple blocks away) and the police were called.

There were no remaining marks when the police arrived, so no charges could be filed. The boy is staying with his dad. The police checked in with M. M told the police that, yes, she had bought the alcohol, but that she'd left it in her car, so she'd have the choice. They say she was sober at the time.

V, C, and I have all talked and, unless she calls, we have done all we can do, except to be there to help her daughter if necessary. M wants some space, and all we can do without pissing her off is give it to her. We have forgiven each other for our self-perceived failures in this. That was hard. M is my good friend. I miss her.

On my way to and from the bus stop today, I had to pass M's apartment and car. I chose to look at the sidewalk instead of looking into her car to see if the bottle was still there. I can only hope that she was looking out her window and understands that I'm respecting her need for choice and that she can call if she needs help that I am able to provide.

It's hard to feel like you're saying goodbye to a good friend and someone who's a fine and kind human being underneath the illness. But I understand that, realistically speaking, unless there is one of those rare miracles, I'll never get to know and love that person very well. I hope she decides to live.