Last Thanksgiving in the CCU

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I should have been there. I should have left the turkey in the oven. I should have said I’ll see ya on Thanksgiving to the grandkids, the two year old, the four year old, the rest.

I was busy. I was stuffing the bird, making the succotash, checking on the table with the glimmer of silver resonating from the place settings along with the antique glasses.

When Rachel came in and said, Bridgette is hot. Maybe you better check on her.

Now, if you have a child addicted to heroin. You know that you get accustomed to them being sick, missing dinners, running to the bathroom. So, I went in to check and yes, she was hot. I said, “Bridge you better go to emergency. Dad will take you.” I think she said no, it’s alright or something like that, or I don’t think I can make it; but Rachel her sister, insisted she ought to go.

So Dad packed her up into the car and took her to the hospital. She could hardly make it to the car. Why didn’t it dawn on me what exactly was going on. She was overdosing slowly.

We sat down to eat without Bridgette, without Bernie.

Tears are streaming down my face in recollection.

Bernie called to tell me how she was doing. He said, “She is Ok, but they are going to keep her. They are taking her to a room.”

I was glad to hear they were keeping her and also glad that she was alright.

So, I guess we went on to have desserts: cinnamon spice pumpkin and apple pies with whipped cream that Rachel had made on blue rimmed plates. We drank our coffee and tea in favorite mugs.

Then, Bernie called and said her pressure had dropped and they rushed her to the CCU (Critical Care Unit). Bernie said he was sitting there holding her hand and then her pressure dropped even more. Neither one of us can remember how low. She should have died.

All my husband can remember is how lonely it was sitting there, watching his daughter die.

The CCU personnel did something to revive Bridgette. Bernie doesn’t know what, but she slowly recovered. I was at home and she could have been gone.

The next morning I visited her in the CCU. I was amazed how cavalier the personnel were, but then I hadn’t even gone to emergency with her. It would be another month before she went into rehab. Days of waiting, hoping today wouldn’t be the day she would die.