Trouble Sleeping

31 July, 2009

nature's bonsai

oh! my fucking! god! that was so past fucking weird and holy shit what exactly was I supposed to do and everyone told me I did exactly what I said I should have done and by everyone I mean holy fucking shit that didn’t just happen holy fuck-
shit dude, i mean, the cop telling me to try and get some sleep is funny, really, all this happened because I finally gave up trying to sleep and holey fucking shit I should just tell you before I over-hype it but fuck! I have so much adrenaline-

It’s 3am, I’ve been trying to sleep for HOURS now, I gave up for the second time around 245.  I  heard oh so soft a rap on the door. I frowned at the knock, knowing no one would be randomly popping by this late-  I dismissed it as a large insect- and as soon as I turned back to the computer screen- I heard another, more plaintive, rapping.   I flipped the porch light on while holding the afghan around my nakid bottom, heard the man say please help me, I’m having a heart attack, and assessed that since he was still standing, still, as it was, something of a threat, there was nothing I could do for him in the few seconds I would need to grab pants and my cell phone.  When I jumped outside he was telling the phone my address and that he was dieing, that he was about to go, that he was having a heart attack.  I called 911 and told him to lay down on the porch. He asked me if I knew CPR. I told him I did, but that I wanted him to focus on breathing- in, and out, in and out- he told me his left side was numb, but somehow I didn’t believe him- he kept telling me he wasn’t breathing but he was breathing- still I wasn’t getting preditor vibe off him- more scared and anxious.  He wanted me to feel his heart, I told him to stay still and let me take his pulse, which I pretended to do, noting the racing beat, clammy skin and dialated eyes that stayed dilated when I moved his head into the light.  I didn’t want to touch his chest, and while I was reasonably sure after the 911 call that I wasn’t going to be abducted, still,  I could feel the film of booze and sweat and fear… He wanted me to touch him, to hold him, but I couldn’t bring myself to do more than hold his hand. His slimey, supposedly dieing hand. I asked him all the questions I could think but I didn’t ask- are you beyond fucking high on coke or is it speed and if so, do you need me to flush something because the cops will be here in like 5 minutes- I’m a well photographed white girl in the Midwest- if the police don’t respond to me who will they respond to? But did I do that? No… that would be the one thing- the question I knew I should ask but didn’t- the EMT with the narcotics badge did though. It took them less than two minutes from my phone call to get to the porch but it felt a good five, at least, every second heavy with the film of sick…
They frisked him and strapped him in and asked him what he took again and again and agian until he finally nodded yes to the cocaine….
I wonder what it was that made everyone so sure he just thought he was having a heart attack… I bet that little pen light the EMT with the narco badge told him pretty quickly what I had to sense…
and, as quickly as it happened, it appears over.
and now, maybe, a shower.
because sleeping is not fucking happening.

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3 Responses to “Trouble Sleeping”

  1. harliquin Says:

    indeed, sleep was not appropriate… I may attract stray cats needing help, but you, my friend tend to attract stray people needing help. I do hope that you are my cat and I am not your stray person. Would you like a ball of twine?

  2. GAP Says:

    Oh my God!!!! Lea, you’re one strong girl and you did what you thought was best without losing your head, don’t be too hard on yourself. I’m really in awe of how well you handled the situation. Now try getting some sleep tonight and I hope no one comes knocking..

  3. smoothpebble Says:

    I’m grateful for your wariness, and yes you did exactly what you should have done. Sheesh, thank God you didn’t have to do mouth to mouth.


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