An Angel by her side

I was sitting in the front seat of an ambulance still shaking with shock as my nonna was strapped to the seat in the back. The parametric was light heartily trying to calm me down with cheesy jokes. Minutes before she was facedown, unresponsive in a pool of  her own blood.

It started with a thud and a loud squeal, but by the time I ran out it was too late. Once I reached her she was half way down the stairs face first hitting every last step till she slid two feet when hitting the tile. I ran to her and screamed for my mom and when I looked down there was a pool of warm red blood surrounding her head like a halo. I told my mom to call 9-1-1, but she was in such shock I had to tell her three times before it clicked in. I took over, as my lifeguard training kicked in. I pinned her to the ground (in case of a spinal) and checked for her pulse. It was there, faintly, but she was still unresponsive and its been three minutes.

I press my forehead to her cheek, my face covered in blood as a result. I know one day she’d die, everyone does, but not like this, not in front of me. 

When she finally started coming to she was groaning and loopy. I told her to stay still and when she was fully aware, this woman insisted on getting up to go to the washroom. she wouldn’t listen so I caved and told her to wiggle her feet and since she could move them I figured she would be okay to get up and walk, not having spinal damage. My mom and I helped her to her feet, slowly guiding her to the washroom.

The paramedics finally arrived and what took 15 minutes felt like a life time. They sat her on the couch and cut her shirt off to check her shoulder. This old fragile lady fell down 14 steps of wooden stairs face first, with kitting needles in her hand and as a result she dislocated her shoulder, got three stitches, bruised her hand and foot and had a shiner across her eye like a boxer punched her. No broken bones, no fractures, nothing serious, just pain. Looking back, as traumatic as it was all I can do is laugh. Every doctor kept saying how lucky she was, how everything could have been ten times worse. Her bones must be steal because that was a miracle. I’m not a religious person, but I prayed that night and I thanked whatever angel, god or prophet that was by her side. It was just not her time and I’m grateful for that.

A Court Room Special

I have had an interesting few years at University. A time for experience, change and figuring out a future. People always tell me to embrace these years because they will be the best years of my life. I agree, when will we ever have the chance to party, hangout with friends and experiment like we do now? Soon our lives will be filled with work, deadlines, horrible bosses and co-workers and possibly starting a family.

Although I have had many awesome and memorable moments, there are a few where I look back and think “what the fuck was I thinking” –as most people probably do. But there is one specific moment, which I thought was done and over with until my mother got a knock on her door one evening.

I checked my phone around 630 back in September and there was a very looooooong message waiting for me from my mom. I started to feel nauseous, I thought this was over, we haven’t heard anything for over a year and all of a sudden I have a court date in February. Although we were the victims, many things could have been prevented, but because of our poor choices they weren’t. At that moment thinking back to that time I started to feel the way I felt that night.

It started with a text, a threatening text, but we thought nothing of it. “They are all talk and no play” we thought. Well we thought wrong. The next thing we hear is a bang on our front door. We all looked at each other, one of us ran and locked the door.

BANG…

BANG..

Then the yelling started and the banging became more forceful. The glass shattered, the door that was once locked was busted open and five roided out, drunk guys staggered through my front door. The door frame hanging by a nail. The next few moments was a blur. I had no idea how to handle the situation, so I ran upstairs with the police on the phone. Hysterically trying to explain what was happening, I’m pretty sure I made no sense. When I came back downstairs there was blood on the floor and chaos all around me. We informed them the police was called, still yelling they ran to their car and drove off, but not fast enough. The cops pulled them over a couple of blocks from my house and they were all taken to the police station.

Another police car came rolling up my driveway, where they entered the scene to ask us questions. Eventually we were crammed in the back of the police car, worried and confused by what just happened. We were all separated and put into different rooms and one by one we were interviewed. The event happened so fast, I couldn’t even described what the intruders looked like. After a long night the cop drove us back to the house, where we blocked our front door with a couch. Feeling frightened and nervous we all sat in the living room until the early morning dissecting the situation that just took place, somewhat growing closer to each other after our trauma.

Its been over a year and a half and all of us have gone our separate ways and now here I am today, feeling the feeling I felt that night. Worried, confused and unaware. Court is in a few days and recollecting that night is far from my memory. Now we will all be brought together forced to be in the same room. Could I tell you what they looked like, no. Do I want to confess why they came busting down my front door for in a court of law, no. Due to legal obligations, I have to. My dilemma is unfortunate, but in ways I guess deserving. So here I am struggling between the conflict of court or jail. Here’s hoping my future can somehow proceed to work, deadlines, horrible bosses and co-workers and possibly starting a family.