He had another overdose. He admitted to me that he only did"1" bag even though he had 4. I was calling him on Wednesday afternoon around 4:20 PM - about ten minutes before I usually get out of work - and he didn't answer. My stomach shrank to nothing, I already knew. I called again and this time a woman answered,but she got straight to the point, "I'm really sorry to answer your phone. Your husband is passed on in this car. We called 911." My heart shrank too. "Where are you?" "We're on the corner of Plymouth."
My co-worker drove me home. My debit card had about $12 and he had withdrawn all the money out of my account. Leaving me with next to nothing. I got in the car as soon as I got dropped off and drove straight to the hospital. Once I was in, I found him in the hallway. Looking exactly like he always does, when he has an overdose. Pale as ever. I try really hard to love this man unconditionally. This is by far the craziest thing I deal with regularly.
9:22 A.M. - 11/25/2019