Volume 49 - No. 12
By R. L. “Pete” Peterson
One phone call changed Martha’s life forever. At 5:49 a.m., on a gray, rainy Saturday her cell phone ping aroused her from sleep, her daughter’s name blinking as she answered the call.
“Good morning,” Martha said, cheerfully.
The frantic voice of her 9-yearThe Paper - 760.747.7119
website:www.thecommunitypaper.com
email: thepaper@cox.net
March 21, 2019
old grandson, Jason, ruined the joy Martha had hoped for. “Gramma! Help! Momma won’t wake up. Her lips are purple, and she groans when I shake her.” His sobs stopped his words.
“Don’t worry, Little Man. I’ll be right there.” An expert in First Aid and CPR, Martha knew her daughter had overdosed. She wasn’t surprised. Scared, yes. But, surprised? No. She’d had a haunting
feeling for some time her daughter was abusing drugs. Work days missed because of ‘flu.’ The empty refrigerator. Requests for gas money. The boys dressed in the same rumpled clothing all the time. Martha ignored these signs because her daughter’s divorce had been painful, and she didn’t want to meddle. Now, she ran to her car and careened down deserted streets to her daughter’s house some five
Grandparentin’ - See Page 2
miles away, arriving minutes before the ambulance. Her daughter lay on the sofa, her body limp, colorless, her skin clammy to the touch. Martha pulled on rubber gloves and rolled Sandra on her side, inserting her fingers into her daughter’s throat to make her retch.
Her two grandboys watched with big eyes and pale faces. The lady next door had come up the steps as Martha did. She’d dialed 911