Short version: He was being chased by someone* who was going to "jack" him -- for what? Money? Drugs? Cell phone? Who knows but I raced out of my office at lightening speed and tried to find him which was difficult because he didn't tell me exactly where he was before his phone went dead. I was hoping that it was just the phone that was dead.
There he is! on the other side of the street, skating in and out of the commuters trying to avoid the PCH traffic on their way home to their $5 million dollar homes in Malibu or the Palisades, after a hard day of pretending to read scripts, yelling at their underpaid assistants, and eating free-range, organic lunches on an expense account. [No I am not bitter.] I zoom down the alley trying to get to him so I can make my heroic rescue. My heart is pounding. Of course I pick the longest alley in the entire town. Ok, back on the main street, honk, screech to a stop, he hops in on top of all my boxes of files, furniture, junk, from the office [see previous post about me losing my job that day] -- out of breath, sweaty, crazed.
"Go!" I accelerate as though Tony Montana is behind me with his "Little Friend." When did I become the star of a Tony Scott film? This is not a role that I relish. (And yes, I know that Brian De Palma directed Scarface not Tony Scott.)
Okay, so that was November 17 the day I thought was the worst day ever. The reality is that it was actually December 7.
That was the day I found him passed out in his bedroom, covered in sweat, gurgling, black and blue marks on the inside of his arm and syringe poking out of his pants pocket. The gurgling sound was the worst. I'll never forget it. Of course, he told me later he was just "snoring." The ER doc thinks differently.
So, not only did he not quit smoking the heroin it appears that he has "graduated" to the needle. Yippee. This movie just keeps gettng better and better.
I had arrived home from grocery shopping to find him in the bathroom, a friend in his room (not DEVIL DAMIAN but he is involved of course; more on him later). Max broke the house rules again (no one over when I am not at home; all his "friends" are druggies and thieves) but I decided to put away the groceries then kick the friend out (he's sort of decent this one).
10 minutes later, the friend comes out of Max's room and tells me there is something wrong with Max as he "fell asleep." The friend seems concerned and volunteers that he only smokes pot and whatever Max is doing is not pot but that he hopes he gets healthy. He seems scared. Friend bolts, I run into his bedroom and there Max lays gurgling, sweaty and unconscious.
After several attempts to wake him up, I slap him. Hard. So hard it leaves a red mark on his face. Nothing. Call 911.
Paramedics and cops arrive. Off to the ER he goes. I am oddly calm. Hot paramedic asks if I want to ride in the ambulance with him. "No I'll drive." I do drive. An hour later. Finished putting away the groceries first. Was that wrong? Again, feel oddly calm. Maybe I am in shock?
Get to the ER. He's crying hysterically. So sad, he's so pale, tiny, but alive. Hugs me and keeps calling me mommy and tells me he wants to get sober. We both believe it but I know that the drugs are stronger than he is.
His mood shifts over the next 6 hours from sobbing like a little scared boy to sleeping again, to hostile "WHY are YOU doing this to me??? Get me out of here! I hate you! You're a horrible mother!" He even accuses me of abandoning him and not feeding him. [I am a gourmet cook; he will only eat chicken nuggets.] He tries every possible tactic to get out of the ER because he knows he is headed back to the psych ward again.
He is still in the psych ward 6 days later. I have no money, no job, no energy. I know I need to send him far, far away (to the land called UTAH) but it's $10,000 a month which I do not have. What to do? Oh, his dad did send me a check since he heard I am out of a job and kid is killing himself. It was for $65.00.
So, back to the drawing board. What's next? I don't know. I just hope it doesn't involve planning a funeral.
Sincerely,
Me
*the one chasing him apparently is the son or grandson of a very famous 1980s junk bond king. So replace, Tony Montana with small white Jewish kid.
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