This is my boy...my baby. He's 11 now but in this pic he's about 3. His name is Jibreel...or Boo for short. When he was 3 years old he saved my life. Picture this...
For about a year prior to the day he saved my life I had been back and forth to the doctors with severe chest pains. We are talking mammoth gargantuan kill me now chest pains!! Everytime I went to the hospital they would "diagnose" me with acid reflux and prescribe maalox and pain medication...and send me home.
It got to the point that I could barely take a bite of anything before that impending feeling of a freight train of agony coming on that would signal that I was in for anything from 15 minutes to 2 hours of serious killer pain...and there wasnt anything I could do about it. I was drinking gallons of maalox...downing pain pills like an addict...sometimes it worked and kept most of the pain at bay but usually I was left curled up in a fetal position, rocking myself and trying to meditate until it passed. It got to the point where I was reluctant to leave the house fearing I would have an attack while outside and would be helpless to stop it. Numerous trips to the doctors describing my symptoms etc only resulted in more of the same...maalox and pain medication with recommendations to cut down on spicy foods...yeah...I'll do that.
I didnt have the internet back then so google wasnt available to help out and the library was a joke...I had nothing to use to figure out what my problem was (obviously the doctors were not helpful). I was afraid to eat anything but just a few select foods...and I was almost housebound (even more than my asshat husband forced me to be).
It all came to a head one day in which I almost died....but first a little more back story.
My 3 year old son had recently discovered that he could act like Houdini and escape out the front door the moment I turned my back...so I would carefully lock the door as soon as everyone was off to work or school each morning. Then he discovered how to operate the key so I had to hang the key over the door out of his reach. Soon he discovered how to knock the key down...so I was forced to hide the key (when I wasnt wearing something with pockets). I could always see him searching diligently in the shoes and on the tables etc looking for the key every morning. I actually had to change locations on several occasions because he managed to sniff it out...the little bloodhound. On the day in question I had hung the key in my bedroom behind the door on a nail. (careful not to let him see me put it there...he was quite a sneak)
So I was busy cleaning house, he was running around playing...then I felt that familiar ache starting to build. I quickly downed some pain pills to catch it before it caught hold...and chugged some maalox (I didnt even bother to measure out a dose...just swallowed it down)...and hoped for the best...but expected the usual.
I got a hell of a lot more than the usual.
Before long I was sitting crosslegged on the couch rocking back and forth doing my best to meditate and ignore the pain. Things were quite different this time though...I was sweating bullets...it was pouring down my body like rain and I was burning up...on fire!!! Not only did my chest feel like it was burning from internal acid...it felt like some kind of alien was trying to fight its way out of my chest.
It was the absolute worst pain I had ever endured.
I eventually realized that it wasnt going to pass this time and decided it was time to call the husband. I stood up to go to the phone and immediately collapsed on the floor. I tried to get up again but felt like I was paralyzed...I could barely move my arms enough to push myself up. I tried dragging myself across the floor but I felt like a limp rag...no strength at all. I laid on the floor in agony wandering what the hell to do. Not only couldnt I move...I had a 3 year old running around that could get into some kind of danger...and I was helpless to protect him.
Boo came over to me at this point all concerned that something was wrong with me. He even tried pulling on me I guess in his little attempts to get me up...Mommy on the floor crying and helpless was not part of his usual routine. It was then that I thought of telling him to bring me the phone. (no mobiles back then). He eagerly ran for the phone and carefully carried it across the floor to me...unfortunately the wire wasnt long enough to reach me and try as I might I could not move myself across the floor. The pain was enormous and debilitating.
Now remember my son was 3 and up to this point I had already started teaching him numbers etc but it wasnt something we had been doing for long...so I wasnt real sure how much he knew...but I took the chance that he knew them well enough to hit the numbers when I called them out to him. (funny enough I didnt even consider calling 999 because ambulance service in this country is a joke...as I would be reminded yet again before too long).
Between my moans and tears I called out my husbands work number to Boo...one digit at a time and watched as he hit the telephone key pad. In the back of my mind I was surprised to see he knew to remove the handset and place it to his ear even though I hadnt told him. I realize children play "phone" all the time...but this was serious and he seemed to be taking it seriously. (maybe wishful thinking on my side?)
When I had called out the last number and he had hit it...I waited a few moments giving it a chance to ring before shouting out to my husband that I was sick and needed help. I had no idea if it was even my husband on the other end of the line...or even if anyone was there...but I shouted all the same. I had no choice.
It was then that I started vomiting and my muscles were wracked with pain. My gut felt like it was being torn apart by lions and I was positive I was literally going to come apart from the pain. I had no idea if anyone was coming...if he had heard or even answered the phone...and I was helpless on the floor.
At some point I realized someone was banging on the front door. Obviously I couldnt get to the door and by this time I had no strength to even shout out to whomever it was. Boo was at the door trying to open it and I could hear voices on the other side...they were female voices and then I recognized them as my Yemini neighbors from upstairs. (I would find out later that Boo actually did hit the right numbers and my husband heard me shouting...he was far away and so called the neighbors to come down and check on me while he headed home).
By this time Boo was running around searching all the usual places for the door key and I was trying to get his attention to tell him where the key was in hopes that he would understand and get it. I finally managed to call him over and told him where it was...he needed some further guidance and encouragement but he eventually managed to get that door key by dragging some things across my bedroom floor and knocking it down.
Then he ran for the door and finally got it open.
*to be continued
The rest of the story will explain what happened to me and what was wrong with me after that front door was opened...but up to this point is important to me because if he hadnt understood numbers well enough to dial one...and hadnt been smart enough to figure out how to get the key down by himself...those ladies wouldnt have gotten in as soon as they did....and things might have turned out much different. Stay tuned.