I have had way too much excitement for one person to take.  On the other hand I know that three fireman, two EMT’s and four police officers can stand in my living room.  It’s crowded, but it can be done.  I also know that a fire truck, an ambulance, and two squad cars will fill the parking lot from the drive to my building. 

    A is a cutter.  When he gets too frustrated he cuts scratches into his arm.  He says the only way that he can get rid of his pain inside is to cause pain outside.  Last night was the culmination of four days of showers, washing bedding, one frustration after another, lack of sleep and food and short fuses. 

    In the midst of an argument about what was setting him off he grabbed the biggest knife in the kitchen and I could see that it was going to cut through his arm like butter.  I tried to stop him from using it by telling him not to use that one, it was too dangerous.  He shouted over me and I threatened to call 911.  He slashed his arm harder than he intended to and cut it to the bone causing me to call 911 and have my own little panic attack..  The instant the knife slid across his skin he realized he’d make a terrible mistake and between the two of us we got a tourniquet on and he pressed a towel into it while I called for help, which took forever to arrive.  When they did they’d sent the cavalry, four officers were joined by three firemen and two EMT’s, all asking questions he couldn’t answer but they didn’t want me to.

    After what felt like a lifetime we all left at once.  I followed the ambulance down unfamiliar streets to a hospital I didn’t know in a neighborhood I wasn’t familiar with..  At one point it got ahead of me thanks to a red light that I swear never turned yellow.  They made it through and I didn’t.  Until then my eyes never left my son through the window of the back doors of the ambulance.  The light changed and I broke speed records down the hill and up again and saw the ambulance again as it turned a corner.  By the time it reached the hospital I was back on it’s tail.  No place to park.  Down the block I turned around and found a tiny parking spot directly across the street from the ambulance doors.  I can’t parallel park.  Never could.  I put that car in the smallest spot I’ve ever seen in my life like I did it ten times a day every day. 

    I couldn’t get in though the ambulance doors.  I had to walk around the corner to the door of the emergency department.  He wasn’t checked in yet, but they would call me.  It seemed like two minutes.  I didn’t even find a magazine.  By the time I got to his room he was already undressed, had an IV in, they’d taken blood and wrapped the cut.  Five hours of waiting...waiting for x-rays ... waiting for him to go to the bathroom...waiting for social workers...waiting for the girl in the next “room” to stop hallucinating...waiting for stitches.  Waiting...waiting...waiting...hoping he’s learned his lesson and stops cutting.  They asked for insurance information.  I pulled out three different cards before I found out his insurance is inactive.  What am I going to do now?  My son is hurt.  I have no money and no insurance.  But he is safe and I am ok for one more day.  The cut will heal and hopefully he will leave the knives alone.