Truth Tale #7: That Moment of Grace

In a world where I sometimes feel it is close to impossible to witness or experience grace, I was just given what feels like a flood of miracles. Proof of grace. It can happen when you least expect it. And that’s exactly what happened…

I was in LA for Passover. Gathering with family. Everyone but Aidan. As you know from Truth Tale #6, things have been extremely dangerous with him…for about a year and a half. But as I always know in my gut, things were getting close to death…again.

I was on a beautiful walk with my dad and step mom, strolling along the Venice canals, talking, listening, seeing the beauty of this area I used to take for granted when I was young and lived there. I felt so present, until I felt something stab my foot! I stopped, looked down, and saw a stick between my foot and my Birkenstock and something piercing my big toe. That was actually the beginning of my moment of grace, believe it or not. I pulled out what looked like a small claw of a mother fucking tiger…watched the blood start to flow, made a tourniquet with a surgical mask, and then saw that the bottom of my foot had also been punctured…put a bandaid on that, and walked back to the hotel.

After lots of suggestions on how to get what felt like a mini surf board out of the bottom of my foot, we all decided no one in our hotel room was the right kind of doctor I would need for this task. So. Urgent care, here we come.

It was while sitting in a folding chair outside the urgent care, waiting to be called in to be seen, I had a wave of fear wash over me about Aidan. I text him. I call him. I text him. I call him. He texts me back. Finally. I texted, “It is getting worse, and you know it!” And he responded, “Yes it is.” My heart sank at his admission, knowing that when he agrees with me, things must be very bad. I called him again and he answered. I said, “WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!?!?!?” And in that moment, his brain heard something? Felt something? Thought something? Or. A moment of grace showed up. I told him I was going to be called back to the doctor soon, but that when we get off the phone, he needs to call the nearest detox and GO. He said ok. In that split second, proof of grace appeared.

I went in to see the doctor. Which was a total and complete shit show. [For my LA peeps- DO NOT use the UCLA Urgent Care in Marina del Ray.] After a whirlwind of bizarre moments, the doctor told me he could not address the issue, and I should go to the ER. Ok, fine. Onward to the ER. The ER was just as insane, but in different ways. This was a scene straight out of M.A.S.H..felt like a war zone. I’ve never seen anything like it…and…I’ve been to plenty of ERs!

While waiting in the halls of this dilapidated ER, I get a call from an unknown number. It is the intake person from a detox, telling me Aidan had called and will be sent an Uber to bring him there. I am in tears…tears of relief. Tears of joy. Warm tears of comfort.

I get called back, get shots in foot, numbed, carved, and wood removed, bandaged, wound care, etc. I happily limp my way out of this ramshackled establishment, and my patient husband hauls ass out of the parking lot, whisking us away from a surreal experience.

It was one of those, “Wait, what the fuck just happened?” moments. We missed the family dinner that night, but here’s the thing. This Passover miracle that just occurred would not have happened if it wasn’t for my lack of grace while on the walk earlier…I would have been busy with family stuff, without my phone on, and not listening in to my intuition. It was the impalement of my foot that actually allowed for the rest to follow.

Aidan’s willingness, in that moment, allowed him to walk away from the bondage of Fentanyl and toward a life of freedom, such a pivotal moment. Crucial in terms of life or death.

Grace. Willingness. Family. Love. Blessings that may look like a bloody foot. Passover. Miracles. Best friends. Moments of time. This trip made it crystal clear- We can not do this thing called life alone.