My Dad had sat me down and had a long talk with me about growing up. He felt I was taking my first step into manhood and I had to learn to stop crying to get my way. For what ever reason, it was believed that I was ‘creating’ the chest pain as a diversion. How do you take a pain inside your chest and hold it out for other eyes to see? My parents were blind to the source of my pain. I was told that if I continued to cry and make a scene about it – then I was going to be punished. I asked what I was supposed to do if I couldn’t help but cry. My Dad told me that ‘real men’ hid their tears in private. So, I was expected to hid my tears away from others. That is what I started doing.
One day, my Mom came looking for me. I had two younger siblings and when she was busy with housework – it was my job to watch them. She went into the bedroom and asked my siblings where I was. They didn’t know. My Mom found me laying under a bed in another bedroom. She screamed for me to come out and got no answer. She eventually kneeled down and crawled under the bed to pull me out. When she did, she found my lips were blue and my body was cold and lifeless.
She picked my body up and took off running for the front door. She screamed at my two younger siblings to get to the neighbors house. She franticly screamed out as she ran out of the house to the car in the driveway. Neighbors were coming to the door and my Mom was screaming at them to watch the other two kids. She had to get me to the hospital. I was not breathing.
The car ride to the hospital was long in my Mom’s mind. There was traffic and she was constantly honking on the horn and running up on curbs. She had tucked my feet underneath her and was holding on to my body and driving as best she could to get to the hospital. She had muttered,
“Where is a cop when you need one?”
When she arrived at the ER entrance – she was blasting her horn. She slammed on the brakes and pulled my lifeless body into her arms. When she did, I coughed back to life and wrapped my arms around her.
She ran into the hospital screaming for help. When the Nurse tried to take me – I wouldn’t let go of my Mom. I was still pale and had blue lips. The Nurse could tell I had been in a serious state.
That was my first instance of an eyewitness account of being without vital signs for an extended amount of time.
My Mom was the first to witness it. There were many more to follow.
