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It was early Saturday morning. I was awakened from my slumber by my brother making irritating noises. I sauntered into the dark kitchen a turned on the dimmed light. Still half asleep, I poured myself cereal. I gazed into the bowl for what seemed like forever. I probably could’ve fell asleep if it weren’t for my brother.

“Brooke, you need to look at mom now!”

“I don’t wanna get up, look at her yourself.”

“No, seriously get up,” Ricky said with a pleading smirk on his face.

I walked like a zombie into the living room where my mom was sleeping.

“You seriously wanted me to get up to watch mom sleep?!” I said to Ricky with anger in my voice.
That’s when I heard it. She was snoring, or that’s what it sounded like. It wasn’t normal snoring though, it was a kind of snoring that made you feel uneasy. I’m not a doctor though, so I didn’t think too much of it. I stood over my mom for a few minutes just carefully listening to her. I wasn’t scared at this point because I knew she always snored.

All of a sudden, it wasn’t just snoring anymore. With every exhale, my mom’s body was jolting around as if she were having a seizure.

“Call 911. Call 911!” Ricky was yelling in the background.

I didn’t call. I sat on the floor next to the couch and watched it all happen. I didn’t want to believe what was going on, so I told myself that my mom was just sleeping. All of my siblings, except Ricky, were still asleep and my dad was long gone at work. I was in this all by myself.

I looked over at my mom one more time. Her lips have changed their color from their beautiful pink to a bluish purple color, making her lips look bruised. That was when I knew I had to step up to the plate and call for an ambulance. With my hands shaking out of control, I dialed 911 on our house phone.

“Has your mom had a past with any drug abuse?” the dispatcher on the other line asked me.
With a lump in my throat, I replied “Yes, she has.”

“Do you know CPR?”

We learned about it every year in health class but I never thought I would have to do it, so I never listened “no I don’t.”

All morning, while I sat there watching my mom I don’t know why I couldn’t put it all together. My mom had overdosed on drugs again, making this the third time. She was addicted to narcotics, and because of my dad’s prescription, she had easy access to painkillers. She was an addict for much longer than I knew of. It’s been about six years now that she’s been spending every paycheck she had on pills.

The ambulance showed up surprisingly fast, along with my mom’s friend Chris, a former EMT. Once the ambulance was in the driveway, all of my siblings woke up. My younger sister Lexi was only 4 and Jayden was 5. As much as I wanted to see what the paramedics would do to my mom, I knew I had to stay with my brothers and sisters in my bedroom.

I heard the paramedics talking, and peeked into the living room. They got out the electrical paddles, they had to restart my mom’s heart and that’s when I had to look away. The EMT’s talked to me for a little bit, but they didn’t give me any information as to what happened. I watched my mom get taken out on a stretcher. They slammed the ambulance doors shut and drove off. They didn’t have their lights on, and they weren’t driving fast which gave me the impression that they didn’t think it was too serious. I was scared to the point where I just wanted to shut down. I didn’t cry though, I couldn’t cry. I had to put on a show for Jayden and Lexi. They didn’t know what was going on, and they didn’t have to. In a way, I kind of wanted to hate my mom. She put her kids through so much and it wasn’t fair. But being addicted to drugs is a disease, she chose to take the first one and after that one, they took control of her. I knew I couldn’t be mad at my mom.

I sat in the living room for hours, it seemed. The phone rang, it was the hospital. I answered it, terrified of what I was going to be told.

“Hello?” I asked.

“Brooke, you need to get me some clothes and put them in a bag. Karin will be at the house in 5 minutes,” a voice too familiar spoke.

It was my mom. When the paramedics revived her they had to cut her clothes off and now she was asking me to pack her a bag. A sigh of relief came over me, but again I was mad. My mom was going to be home later that day. You would think I would be excited to see her, but I wasn’t. My mom needed help, and I knew she couldn’t do it on her own. I live everyday terrified of whether it’s going to happen again or if she’ll magically wake up and be better, healthier.

Every year in elementary school, DARE officers come in to talk to us about drug abuse.

Obviously we were all too young to realize how dangerous these drugs really are. Then in high school, we start having guest speakers telling us about their own drug abuse stories. They tell us how they’ve been through so much and how they would never want anyone to ruin their own lives they way they did. The truth is, you have to learn things on your own. Nobody can ever make you understand what they’ve been through unless you’ve witnessed it yourself. They can’t send their horrible memories over to us. We could never understand what it’s truly like to suffer the way they did by just a story. We have to experience it on our own. Seeing my mom almost die on my living room floor is the reason I will never touch drugs.

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MCMproductions said...
today at 10:40 pm:
I watched my mom die infront of my own eyes because of cancer, and the way you wrote this reminds me of how I felt about all those sorry's that I got walking down the school hallways. They have no clue, they say it because it is the right thing to say, but they have no clue how it feels to almost lose someone and to be hurt over and over again. A great job, be proud of this. 
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