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Running on empty, hell on my heels

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When I last wrote I was at a local hospital my husband, who henceforth will be called Derrick, was bleeding to death and we had no insurance and his condition was likely going to die before I could get him out of the parking lot from the large blood clot next to his heart. I was still standing completely still, utterly alone without a clue as to what I would do now. 8 months pregnant and a two year old at my parents house. My adored husband telling secrets to the ghastly grim repeat who hovered at Derrick's bedside whispering seductive invitations for him to just let go and.be whisked away from all his troubles. I know its true cuz he told me that hed been at that point where all you have to do is stop fighting but he remembered me pregnant, and our baby boy and he began to fight to come back.

 So we managed to get him to a hospital in Dallas. From the moment he arrived it was clear that the staff had a sense of urgency. They scheduled his surgery for the first thing Christmas Day. My obstetrician said under no condition would he release me to be there for the surgery because I'd had high blood pressure and been anemic and been bleeding regularly so was high risk. So I missed his surgery, but was losing my mind. Finally I decided to hell with the doctor and loaded up my car left one ounce for the yard dogs to sell and took the other three ounces with me.  I was very nervous cuz he handled everything and I just wanted to do a good job. Remember I said I had miraculously gotten clean and was attending a 12 step group meeting. When we made it to Dallas we went to the hotel attached to the hospital where I got myself a room, my personal watchdog. In attendance. We went up to the 18th floor and I was exhausted but I couldn't rest until I saw him. So, meth in my purse, I began the mile or so to get to his room.  Completely exhausted by the time the nurse on his floor saw me, the staff made me a bed in a fold out bed beside his where I promptly kissed his sleeping,  pale, lovely face and collapsed into my chair immediately falling asleep. During the night, I felt someone shaking me. When I was finally able to focus I saw it was Derrick telling me to move so he could lay down. I tried to tell him we would get in trouble but he could be very persuave so I lumbered myself,  belly and all into his hospital bed. As expected, I was violently awakened with two nurses in a panic was wanting to know what I'd done with Derrick.  I sleepily pointed to where he lay in my bed. They about had a fit, but when he was awakened,  they got to see what a fit really looked like. He cussed them up and down just like he cussed ANYBODY that woke him up. I was the only person who could avoid a punch in the face when waking him. So we traded back beds and I quickly fell back asleep. Around 7:00 the staff showed up and while he was far from well,  the surgery was deemed a success. The local PBS television station had filmed the entire procedure and showed it as a rare surgery teaching special. We never signed one piece of paper. No addition papers,  no finanial papers,  it was crazy.  Over $100,000 worth of surgery and they never asked us for a cent. 

Once I had seen that he was gonna live, I made my way back to the hotel which by now was full of "concerned friends" the only legitimate visitor was his twin brother Eric. They had explained that they had gotten rid of all I had left them with and had Derricks money. I told them to just hold onto it and threw down a shot for everyone but me and disappeared into the bathroom. I ran myself a steaming tub of water and clumsily climbed in. By the time I got settled in the water it all hit me at once. Derrick might live, we we're gonna have 2 babies in a months time, we were drug dealers of not just a little bit of the purest P2Pmeth that could be found. We owed the hookup a shit ton of money. I began to weep emotionally and softly rub my belly talking to the baby that I hadn't wanted. By now I very much wanted my little girl. I cried and apologized for her being given us as parents. And the most heartbreaking truth was I couldn't even commit suicide now without killing a……my baby. No escape. Also I had wanted to get away from everything and everybody and like a magnate they all managed to make it. Also now he was gonna be unable to work for some time. We felt stuck. We wanted more than anything to be good parents. There are no good parents in the dope world. The truly good parents find the most loving, most responsible people to care for their children and put them there until they we're really ready to be parents and not dope heads. The night in the bathtub was the lowest, most despairing, most heartbreaking moment that I'll have in this life. I can truthfully say I have looked utter heartbreak in the face and it won, I blinked again and again as tears poured from my eyes onto the little stranger in my belly. Who turned out,  like her brother,  a perfect child. Low maintaince, an old soul. My next blog will be Drug tools,  technology, and terminology 101. For the possible family members who have found themselves in a foreign land.  Thanks for your time. 

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