At 15 months, I took an over dose of baby aspirin. T'heee... scared the hell out of my Mom. I just thought they were delicious. My Dad had stopped at the Pharmacy, because I had a cold. I remember him dropping the white bag off and handing it to my Mom. It was a cold day outside, too. You could see the white, plume of cold air come in before my Dad entered when he opened the door.
My Mom set the bad of "goodies" on the kitchen table and headed downstairs to change her laundry over. I, of course, curious to see what was in the bag, climbed up on the table to have a peek. Imagine my joy when I found a box of 'piddos'! That's what I called pills. I remember taking the bottle out and pulling the cap off with me teeth. I lined them up in a straight line and ate them one by one. Crunch, crunch, crunch....
Imagine my Mom's horror when she discovered that I had eaten half a bottle of 60 tablets. I remember her asking me to open my mouth. She told me later in years she was checking to see the pink pill residue on my molars. Panic stricken she called the doctor, and it was decided that I needed my stomach pumped.
Now, for the longest time, my Mom swore I couldn't have remembered that far back. I just knew the story from her or my Dad telling it to me .. BUT .. then I told her then how come I can remember the tubes being forced down my throat? I also can remember the sound of the pump that was beside my head. I can remember seeing the little bits of pink coming up from my stomach through those tubes. I can remember the feeling of my tears pooling in my ears, because I could no longer make any sounds. I remember the cold feeling of the table they had me laying on. I remember the doctor with the dark, framed glasses, and I certainly remember the big, fat, mean nurse telling me to, "shut up and stop crying!" She had her greying, blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun and the base of her neck and she had a huge double child and the skin on her face was sort of mottled. She had really fat hands, and bad breath and I didn't want her touching me. She was too close to me and I could smell her lipstick. I wanted my Mom, and they wouldn't let her in the room where I was. It wasn't allowed in those days.
After that, my Mom didn't question my ability to remember. I can pull any memory I want at will, and I am there. Even now while typing about my over dose, I can smell that nurse's lipstick and her awful breath. It can sometimes be a blessing .. but also a curse. There are some things in life you just don't want to remember, or wish you could forget.
My head is so full. Not only of memories, but of knowledge. Good and bad. Useless facts, songs, that I have learned from when I was a kid. Sometimes it comes in handy. I'll tell you one thing, I never ever .. well, hardly ever get lost. It's like I have a built in navigational system. I was always my Mom's co-pilot when we traveled. I just instinctively knew where to go and how to get there. My Mom would get lost in a round room.
I always thought everyone could do this. I'm learning as I'm older now, that it's not the case. I've actually freaked a few people out. I'll tell them something about themselves, that they have told me like 20 years ago, and they'll stand there with their mouths open wondering why I know this information. Well, duh, you told me. Then they're amazed that I remember, but it's the way I remember. I remember the conversation word for word. I think that's what scares them the most. I go into detail. Then I sound like a freak. Especially, if I tell them what shoes they were wearing or what earrings they had on. The looks on their faces tells me I've gone too far.
Welcome to my personal hell.......