My Semi-Life, A Blogging Series, Part One.

When you grow up in a truck that’s smaller than the average bathroom, you have a very different life than your average teenager. This was my life. Now I need to give you a bit of back story so you know how it all started.

The day it all started was probably one of the hardest days of my life. I had come home to find my mom was ill and had to call an ambulance. It was just before my 12th birthday and I came home from spending time with my cousin. My mom came stumbling out of the bathroom seeming not to be able to see that I was even there. I remember asking her what was wrong and my only reply was the sound of her head colliding with the shelf hanging in front of our kitchen window.

It didn’t seem to phase her because she walked out on the back deck and seemed to not have any bleeding. I remember thinking in my head that I needed to do something to help her but wasn’t sure what to do. Do I call 911 and get her help or do I help her to her room and make sure she is okay? I remember asking her if she was okay a few more times. she replied by hitting the banister like it was in her way and saying move. I was confused because I thought she had been talking to me. I remember the feeling I had at that moment. The feeling of a frog stuck in my throat. The eerie feeling that something was terribly wrong. It took me a split second to realize that someone needed to help her. There was no phone near us because we had just moved in a month or so before this day.

My neighbor happened to be outside so I asked him to watch my mom so I could get help. I had never run as fast as I did that day. I ran to my other neighbors and knocked on the door with no answer. I started to get really nervous when I couldn’t think of someone close to let me use their phone. I ran over a block to my moms best friends house and her mom answered the door. She could see I was panicking and needed help. She asked me to calm down and tell her what was wrong. She immediately called 911 and told me to run back home and wait for them. At the time we lived less than a block to the hospital that they would take her to. I knew there was no way I could have gotten her there myself. My family must have seen the ambulance, fire trucks, and police cars speeding past because minutes after the rescue squad got there, my cousins were there holding me as I watched my mom get loaded onto a cot and taken by the ambulance.

I didn’t know it at the time, but that would be the end of my life living with my mom. My mom had always struggled with her health because of a car accident when she was three years old. She was struck by a drunk driver while standing on a corner with her babysitter. It was a miracle that she lived as long as she did and had three kids that proved so many doctors wrong. Sometimes these things lead to struggles later in life, especially when you have so many medications that you need to take. If I hadn’t come home at the exact time that I did the doctors were afraid my mom would have been found lifeless. I saved my mothers life that day.

The paramedics look off and the police stuck around asking me questions about what happened and her medications. At the age of 11 I had no idea why it was relevant, all I knew was where her medications were. I handed them over to the police and they said they couldn’t leave me alone so they had me pack stuff up and go with them to meet with my Aunt so I could stay with her. It was emotional for me, the process of packing my clothes and my favorite alligator stuffed animal to take somewhere else. I had always been close with my mom and very rarely stayed a long period of time away from her. I never knew that saving my mom’s life would lead to so much, but I would have never changed how I acted on the situation. I knew I wanted my mom to be okay. I knew I wanted to be with my mom. In that moment, walking to the police car with my bag of clothes and my alligator, I had no idea that I wouldn’t get to be with my mom again. At least not the same.

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