120) Final Solution

Standing at the door to my sons room there in our darkened house, I would quickly discover what he had taken from my tool box in the middle of the night.

No sounds had come from his room for several minutes. No television, no pacing, not even turning of pages in books. Nothing.

This was creepy.

But strangely, I knew what I would see when I asked Stevie to open his bedroom door.

Nadine, Stevie and I had been up all night. We all had a sense of what might happen that night. In fact Nadine and I wondered why it hadn’t happened sooner.

Everything had been leading up to this moment.

Stevie had been addicted to opioids since that age of 9 or so, trying to deal with pain from chronic pancreatitis.

During the last two years things had gotten out of control. We couldn’t fill his prescriptions fast enough.

And tonight Stevie’s body had started the process of withdrawing. He had taken his last dose of Dilaudid at 9:30 pm.

“Stevie, unlock your door!” I bellowed.

Even though I “knew” what I would see, I didn’t know what steps to take, or if I could take them in time.

After all, it was the middle of the night.

Stevie opened the door, quite slowly, and with great resignation.

He had cut both wrists, length-wise.

He had used an X Acto knife – the one he had taken from my tool  box.

Next – Rushing Around

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