Danger, Danger Will Robinson...Continued

One of the most memorable situations that I remember occurred when J. was in high school.  I went out to pick up one of my clients.  I picked her up at home after a night in which she had argued with her partner. And the situation was physical.  I was picking her up after her conversation with the police. I could see blood on the door. Not a lot, but it was proof that something probably happened.  I can’t remember the details.  I don’t remember her being seriously wounded. But there was that blood on the door.  And I took her to be evaluated for temporary assistance from the crisis team.  We spent what seemed like hours at the crisis team office.  And they finally decided that she was just fine. They didn’t think she needed extra assistance.  And I was directed to take her home.  

During the day, I had noticed that her speech was gradually becoming more and more slurred. She didn’t sound normal. I knew her. I had spent time with this client. So, when she started to slur words and seemed out of it to me, I was very aware of it.  As far as I could see, she had no access to any substances during that day.  No alcohol available.  And she hadn’t been given any medication by the nursing staff.  I tried to get the social worker to understand what I was observing. We really went back and forth about it. She told me that the decision had been made.  My client was fine.  And I needed to take her home.  So, feeling like no one was listening to me (a common experience when I was a child) I put her in my car.  And she promptly passed out. While we were still in the agency parking lot. Then she woke up a few seconds later as I panicked and tried to shake her awake. So, I sat there and made a decision.  It could have been a fatal decision.  Even though I had medical assistance waiting for me at the crisis team office, I didn’t think they would believe me. (That wasn’t logical, but I wasn’t feeling the love from them at that point.) So, I drove as fast as I could to the best hospital I could think of. It was a trauma center.

During the ride, she went in and out of it.  I kept talking to her, hoping I could keep her awake.  When I got there, I ran into the ER, literally screamed for help, and they did what was needed.  Yes, she had taken an overdose. I seem to remember that she admitted that she had taken the meds prior to leaving her house. What she took, I don’t remember. The doctor was reassuring.  He said that I had gotten her there safely and she would be fine. But deep down, I knew that I had taken a HUGE risk. I was there for quite a while.  I lost my coat somewhere in the ER.  And I was late picking up my beautiful daughter from school. She was waiting outside her school because it was locked.  (Talk about guilt!) 



To be continued...