Missed a day because I wasn't feel well and didn't remember about the blog until this morning.
So, like the last time I missed a day I am doing two in one.
Day 20, Difficult time in my life.
Leaving out all the "emotionally hard" times, since there are a lot, and leaving out my mom dying, since I just wrote about that the other day, I will chose a "how the fuck do I handle this" difficult time.
When I was 15 my dad and I were on allergy shots. The kind where they get stronger with each new vial. We had been on our shots for a few months, without any issue, until one day my dad started feeling off after his shots.
We had just gotten our new round of vials about two weeks before the incident happened. I wasn't having any issues with my shots, so I thought it was a little weird when my dad started saying he felt weird for a few hours after his shots.
Then one day, on our last vial for this round of shots, I gave my dad his shot like I did any other day. I was able to give myself my shots, but my dad couldn't get his arm to bend enough to give himself his shots.
Except this day wasn't like any other day.
Within two minutes of giving my dad his shot he started looking very pale and breathing a little funny. Shortly after I noticed the paleness my dad started gasping for air, but not expelling any air. His face started turning red and his lips were turning purple. That's when it hit me, my dads throat was closing off and he couldn't breath.
I got my dad into a chair and was yelling at my mom to get the adrenaline out of the fridge.
Each time we got a new dose of vials they gave us a vial of adrenaline, just in case we had a reaction to the medication.
My mom, god love her, wasn't moving. She was just standing in her corner, with this blank look on her face, waving her hands, and frantically repeating "I can't do it. I can't do it. I can't do it."
After about 30 seconds of me yelling at my mom, to snap her out of it, and to get the adrenaline, my brother comes out of his room to see what the hell is going on.
I scream "CALL 911!!" and run to the kitchen to get the adrenaline.
I grabbed my dads vial, and was about to close the fridge, when I grabbed mine as well. I ran back to the living room, filled the syringe, and slammed it into my dads arm. Normally I would have measured out the proper dosage, but I put the entire vials worth in the syringe.
After 10 seconds, with zero positive response from my dad, I filled another syringe halfway and slammed that one into my dads arm.
The entire time I'm yelling at my dad "LOOK AT ME!"
I was about to put the rest of the adrenaline in the syringe when I heard our front door open. The paramedics were there.
Thank god!
I give them the frantic, quick, explanation of what was going on as the female paramedic was walking towards my dad. She kept trying to get him to open his eyes and look at her as she was getting a syringe of something ready. She was giving him even more adrenaline.
It took about 5 minutes before my dad was able to keep his eyes open and start speaking in coherent sentences again.
After the paramedics made sure my dad was ok they made sure to tell me that if it wasn't for my quick thinking my dad would have been dead before they got to him.
We later found out that the nurse gave my dad someone elses vials on accident and when it was brought to their attention all they said was "Oops. Sorry."
My parents didn't pursue legal action, but the past few years my dad wishes they had.
Day 21, What do you want to be when you grow up
Well, when I was little I wanted to be a teacher. Specifically 2nd grade. But, I decided that wasn't for me when I found out I would have to take a class on teaching special education.
It's not something I am comfortable with.
So then I decided I wanted to work for the FBI, the BAU specifically. I wanted to be one of the people that caught serial killers. But, I found out that you had to be recruited in if you were over the age of 21. That you, also, had to have XX amount of years of training in certain fields of work.
After that I decided I wanted to work with at risk youth and/or battered women. Something like a counselor or therapist. I even went to school to start working on my degree for that. But, it took me 9 years to get 5 classes away from my Associates of the Arts degree, and I ran out of government grant money. I can't afford to go to school without it.
Now, at almost 34 I have zero idea what I want to be when I grow up.
However, I really hope I figure it out soon.
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