Worst Night of My Life

So, I’ve been thinking about getting this story out for a long time now and I’ve been putting it off and putting it off cause I really didn’t want to deal with it. But I just feel like God’s been laying on my heart to do it and get this out. I don’t know if it’s for me or for someone else who might read it. I don’t know, but I’m doing it. And if you are a family member or a close friend of mine you might not want to read this because it’s going to make you cry. So just warning everyone.

Ok. So, I want to share about the scariest worst night of my life. How listening to God above all others changed my life. The power of prayer and recognizing and appreciating the miracles that God gives us instead of getting caught up on the the miracles that aren’t happening for us.

Alright, so most people might think that the worst night of my life was the night I found out that Chris had died, but it actually isn’t. The worst night of my life is the night Chris almost died.

Chris had struggled with addiction for a couple of years. Then in February of 2020 he went into a rehab facility here in Charleston. He did amazing. He was doing the 12-step program. Dedicated his life to the Lord. Things just clicked for him there. We were all very hopeful. Cautious but hopeful. He was there for 4 months. He comes home to live with me again. And I had set up boundaries, and rules, and schedules in place of course as you do when you’re dealing with recovery. We were figuring out what the next steps are for him and us.

About a week passed and some drama started going down one day. I’m not going to get into the whole story but I didn’t involve me, so I wasn’t really sure what was happening, what was being said, by whom, but I was being told by multiple people from the rehab facility that he was using again and I shouldn’t let him in my house. Now I’ve kicked Chris out of the house several times before because of circumstances involving his addiction so I knew the deal. But something about this time that felt strange. I just wasn’t comfortable with the situation. I needed to see him and hear his story in person from him. Even if I knew it was going to be a bunch of crap there was still something about this day that felt different. I was torn for some reason and I couldn’t figure out why I was feeling this way.

So, I prayed and prayed and prayed some more. Pretty much just in constant communication with God. And listening intently. When you’re listening to God it’s not with your ears it’s with your soul. I just felt Him telling me to let Chris come home. That I needed to be with Chris tonight. So, I did. I went against what professionals told me, what all the books will tell you to do, and what I had done in past. I let him come home.

He gets home, and I can already kind of tell he’s been using. But he’s denying it like always, so I just go about my evening and keep an eye on him. Like alright God you told me to let him back in the house. I’m going with it. I’m following You Lord.

A couple of hours go by and Chris goes up stairs to the bathroom. I’m sitting on the couch about to eat some cereal when I hear a loud thud like something heavy has been dropped. I think there’s nothing in the bathroom that big that could make that noise. Crap, what if he fell? So, I rush upstairs and call his name, “Chris?” no answer. “Chris are you ok?” still no answer. I check the door and it’s locked of course. Panic creeps in because I know what’s happened.

So, after a couple of tries I bust in the door.  There he was slumped over on the floor against the bathtub. Unconscious. Paraphernalia laying on the floor and on the counter. He had overdosed. I rolled him over and laid him on his back to check to see if he was breathing. He wasn’t. He was going pale, lips turning blue, whole thing. I’m now YELLING at him to WAKE UP, OPEN YOUR EYES, BREATH! I jump up and get the Narcan which I kept in the bathroom closet, so it’d be handy in case of ever such an event. I ripped open the box and looked at the directions. Thank God for pictures because there was no way I was going to read tiny little detailed print in an emergency. So, I rolled him over on his side, lifted his head to open his air way and used one of the Narcan cartridge things. It was a nasal spray. And I waited. I was crying so hard. I’ve never cried so hard in my life. He took one gasp for breath and that was all. Nothing more. He still wasn’t breathing. I was screaming for him to just breath. JUST BREATH PLEASE! I was begging God with all I had to let him breath. But he wasn’t. So, I gave him the second dose of Narcan. And I prayed for God to make him breath. And he gasped for breath. And then another big one. Trying to get air. It sounded awful and difficult. He was struggling but he was breathing. I of course was just balling my eyes out. I rolled him back onto his back. He was slowly gasping for air. Every breath sounded like a struggle. Now, Chris has asthma, so I was afraid that this was his asthma now kicking in and he doesn’t have his albuterol inhaler. Like great the Narcan worked but his asthma is now the problem and there’s nothing I can do about it because we don’t have an inhaler and he’s unconscious.

I knew I needed to call 911 but I had no idea where his phone was, and my phone was downstairs. So, I ran downstairs, grabbed my phone and started dialing 911 as I ran back up the stairs. I was squatting over him, placed the phone on the ledge of the bathtub while it rang. I had it on speaker phone. It rang so many times. I just kept talking to Chris telling him to keep breathing, keep breathing. He was sweating so much and was burning up. And I was rubbing his face hoping he would open his eyes. Finally, the 911 dispatch lady picked up. I gave her my address and told her what was happening. Told her that I gave him two doses of Narcan and he’s still not really breathing well. So, she had me give him mouth to mouth to just get him a few breaths, help open things up, something. I don’t really know. But it worked. I gave him 2 breaths and that did the trick. He started breathing steadier and smoothly.

She told me that the ambulance was on its way. And thankfully I live like 2 miles away from the EMS station. She had me go back down stairs and unlock the door and I put Greta up in the guestroom, so she wouldn’t get in the way. Then I ran back upstairs. Chris was still breathing well. And I was on my knees straddling him, still on the phone with 911, and I was rubbing his face, wiping all the sweat away. And he started to open his eyes. So, I started talking to him. He was still unconscious. Had no idea what was going on. But he opened his eyes. So, I told him “Hey”. And just kept telling him he was ok. “You’re ok. You’re ok.” And he was looking around just in a complete daze. It really did look like a fish out of water. Eyes are open, mouth is open, trying to breath but there was just nothing. Just a blank look on his face. The EMT’s get there. Come inside and I yell that we’re upstairs. They come upstairs and into the bathroom and I get out of their way. There were 2 or 3 EMT’s I can’t remember. But there were 2 police officers. So, while the EMT’s dealt with Chris I sat on the bed and talked to the police. Told them what happened and answered all their questions. The EMT’s got Chris sitting up and then standing. Got him to walk downstairs and sit on the couch. And the police and I went in the bathroom. They took the drugs and paraphernalia and they tested it right there on my bathroom counter to see what it was. I knew what it was, but they were really testing to see if there was fentanyl in it. And it did. He didn’t even take the full dose. That’s how instant, extreme, and violent fentanyl is. The police told me I would need to deep clean the whole bathroom and I would need to wear gloves because fentanyl can be absorbed through the skin. So, you don’t want to touch anything! One of the police officers was a woman and she pulled out a pair of latex gloves and gave them to me.

We went downstairs, and Chris was sitting on the couch with the EMT’s asking him his name, age, the day of the week, the year, who the president was. They told us that because Narcan has a half life they would either have to wait with us there at the house for like 45 mins to make sure once the Narcan wore off he didn’t go back into an overdose. Or we could go to the hospital. Chris looked up at me and said, “it’s up to you. I’ll do whatever you want me to do” So I said we’re going to the hospital. I walked him out to the ambulance. Then got my purse and got in my car and followed them to the hospital. We were only there maybe 45 minutes then went home. The next day his sister came over from California for two weeks and we all got together and figured out some next steps and got Chris into an Oxford house.

Mainly I was just so relieved that I had let Chris come home that night. What if he had been somewhere else? I just knew it was our miracle. God told me to bring him into the house that night and watch him. It wasn’t until a few days later when his mom made a comment that it was a miracle that I was in the house and heard him fall. I could have been outside with Greta and never heard him fall! It was a miracle. Instead of finding Chris unconscious I could have found him dead. It was a month later that Chris overdosed and passed away. We all felt so blessed that we had gotten another month with him. His sister had come down from California and spent two whole weeks with him.

So often we can get caught up on the miracles we don’t get that we can forget to see and recognize and be thankful for the ones that we do get.  Chris could have died that night if I hadn’t listened to God and followed what I believed He was telling me. I’m not patting myself on the back by any means. This is all Gods blessings! He gave us another chance and more time with Chris. And I will always be eternally grateful and blessed for that opportunity that God gave us. How could I not? I got to see him clean and happy and healthy. We got to see him as his old self again. His true self. It wasn’t the strung-out addict that I had to deal with for so long. It was him. It was Chris again. And I feel blessed beyond measure to have that time and those moments as my last with him. And it was all because of God. And I thank Him all the time for the wonders that He gives to us.

Welp, that is my story of the worst night of my life and how God worked a miracle in my life. I hope that anyone that reads this and or hears my story will remember to always keep praying. Keep listening for God and pay attention because you never know what miracle He might be working in your life. Be thankful because we are all so blessed.