Once Upon an Overdose

Once upon a time, there was a woman who discovered she had turned into the wrong person. Well, her sense of judgment was askew, so I suppose she wasn’t exactly aware of right and wrong. Either way, when I got a phone call at three in the morning, I knew something was seriously wrong with my mother. The hospital told me that she had overdosed on one of her prescriptions- which one was still a mystery. Between the anti-depressants she had to take after my dad’s death, and the anti-anxiety and pain medications she’s been on since the accident, there’s no telling what she overdosed on.

So, there I was at three in the morning, speeding- sorry, driving responsibly- down the highway to get to Chicago from New Orleans. Needless to say, I was tired. I pulled into a hotel that was a little over a block away from the hospital to get a room. There was no way I was going to see my mother after being on the road for thirteen and a half hours without freshening up. She may have overdosed and be hospitalized, but she still thought I had to be- and look- perfect wherever I went. She obviously couldn’t take her own advice.

After I made myself presentable, I took off for the hospital on foot- I was sick of being in a car, and the hospital wasn’t far. I sighed at the fact that it started sprinkling, but figured it wouldn’t kill me. The heels that my mother would happily approve of clicked against the tiled floor as I made my way up to the receptionist. A small smile tugged on my lips as she finally looked up from her computer.

“I’m looking for Melinda Warren, I’m her daughter Alyssa.” A polite smile graced her lips as she typed my mother’s name into her computer, and her smile vanished.

“I’m sorry, your mother’s still comatose. You can still go up and see her, though.” I nodded stiffly as she gave me her room number. I lightly bit my lip before speaking to her again.

“Do you know what caused her overdose?” The receptionist gave me a look that was nearly pure pity.

“The doctor determined it was oxycodone.”

“But she hadn’t been prescribe any.” The only response I received was that stupid pity filled smile. I sighed before nodding my thanks, and made my way to my mother’s room. Oxycodone was a pain medication, one that my mother certainly wasn’t taking. 

When I made it to her room, I realized that reception was right. My mother laid peacefully in her bed, completely and utterly comatose. I sighed as I stood there and recalled a time she hadn’t needed medication, but that had been when my father died, and I didn’t want to think about that.

After a while I went out and left the hospital and walked back to the hotel in the rain.