Sunday Bloody Sunday

Sunday October 20th, 2015 started like any other day.
Woke up - fed the kids. Getting ready for Jeter's party. I called the boy to check on him and left a message. He sleeps late and I called around 7AM so I did not expect much. Washed the kids up - again - phone didn't ring the way it usually did in the morning from the boy and his first early morning wake-up around 9-10AM.


2:15PM the phone rang and while my caller ID said it was Jason - it sounded like someone entirely different.
A slow husky voice responded, "Mom, re-remember when I told you - I-I-I was t-t-talking funnnnny?"


"Jason that's not funny. Stop it." I can't describe the feeling that came over me. All I can say is that I felt cold. Really, really cold.
"I am n-n-not playing. I am-m-m-mm S-s-s-serious, mom."
I hoped he would laugh. Or giggle or do something to show me he was just playing and make me want to beat the shit out of him.
But he didn't. He sounded scared. He sounded strange. He sounded like someone I did not know.
"Jason, hang up and dial 911 - NOW! I think you had a stroke in your sleep. If you are not playing around and you are serious I want you to go straight to the hospital."
"Ok, m-mom."
He hung up and I was frozen. I am 3 hours away from my baby. My baby who something happened to. My baby who needs me. Up to that point I had never felt so helpless in all of my life. I have NEVER had one of my children so vulnerable. I am that crazy mom who does anything and everything for her kids. Even my 18 year old who wants to be grown.
He sent a text - "HEADING TO HOSPITAL NOW. MY FRIEND IS DRIVING ME"
I was readying the kids for the party, panicked and absent minded. Debating about dropping everything and driving upstate to reassure myself he was fine or taking the kids to the party THEN driving upstate to make sure he was fine.
Carmelo grabbed me, "Fuck the party and go."
That's when I ran.
2 hrs and 18 minutes later on a trip that should take 3 hours and 12 minutes minimum I pulled into
I texted him the whole way up there and he kept reassuring me via text "I AM FINE."
Cobleskill Regional Hospital. This little building in the middle of the sticks. If you blinked while driving, (like I did) you would miss the dip in the trees that led to the driveway to go in.
The place was dimly lit on one side and stadium lighting on the other. It reminded me of the movie ALIENS when they diverted all the power to where they were shutting down everything else.
"Hi, I am here for my son." The words tumbled out of my mouth so fast I had to say them four times before he understood me. You would have thought I ran the whole way there with how out of breath I was. The chubby clerk was smiling at me the whole time. I wanted to slap him. There was nothing funny about this situation.
"Oh yea.." he began in a slow drawl, "let me just check to see if it's ok to send you back."
I walked right through the door and had him trailing behind me. "Miss!? MIss!?"
First look and there was Jason. Sitting on a hospital bed texting on his phone. Completely "FINE" like he said."
Chubby clerk was still trying to get my attention without touching me. He was about my size - but I think the look I gave him solidified his loss. He looked at Jason and asked, "Is it okay if she is back here with you?"
Jason nodded. I still had not heard him speak.
"What happened? What did they say? What tests did they do?" I didn't let him answer. He got rapid fire questions because I am panicked and had been so for almost three hours.
"He s-said I am f--f-fine." His voice was back to normal. The stutter was new.
"They just did a catscan."
"Where's the doctor?" - I was impatient. I wanted answers. I walked to the nurses station. I was the only person at the counter.
"HELLOOOOO????" I was obnoxious - I know. But I had nearly 3 hours of pent up frustration and fear. My oldest son was broken. I needed to know what happened.
The doctor didn't look up. Everyone else looked scared. Ghetto from Crooklyn doesn't pass by there often.
Without looking up - the doctor spoke calmly and evenly, "Ok. I will be with you in a minute. Just finishing up something."
I watched him for that whole minute. The heat of my stare made him finally say, "I can finish this later."
He walked back into the room with Jason and asked him almost coyly, "Is it okay to speak in front of your mom? Did you tell her everything?"
Jason looked down and nodded.
"Well, your son was drinking last night and claims that's all he did."
"-HE WAS DRINKING WHAT?" I wasn't mad. Not really - I was just looking for signs that he was drunk so I could begin proper ass-whipping procedures.
The doctor looked at his file, "He claims just a shot of Bacardi Raspberry. I mean, I consulted a Dr. at a neighboring hospital and well, just a shot would not cause you to have a lisp. We did do a CT scan and he is fine. Nothing abnormal. The only thing we can think of is, you know how these college kids are - they do pills, and K2 and all this other stuff and then they don't want to tell. We were going to discharge him and just let him go home and sleep it off. If the symptoms persists then I would go for an MRI."
As far as I was concerned - this doctor was an ass. He could give these speeches to those mother's that don't watch their kids. I knew mine.
"Jason, I am going to ask you once, and you better tell me the truth: were you taking drugs?"
He looked me in the eye - "No, mom."
I took a copy of the CT report and left with him. I asked if he wanted to go back to his dorm to pick something up and he said no. He knew he was going home. "I just want to go home."he said before laying down and closing his eyes. He fell asleep fast. Too fast for me. I kept waking him up on the drive home. "Mom, can you take me to the hospital."
I never went home that night. I had to remind myself to breathe.