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Chelsey's Random Musings
This will be a place for my random thoughts - and reminders to myself. [If you happen to read my journal, feel free to leave comments.]
... T_T
I'm so stressed right now. I was so happy with my life and then my baby brother nearly dies and I almost possibly break my arm. crying

So. The story about my brother is this. He's 14 and goes to North Pole Middle. He's something of a follower but a total "tough guy". He really buys into that "Oh, I'm so tough. No one would hurt me." image thing that some people got goin' on. Well, on Wednesday my Mom and I decided to investigate if he really was in wrestling when he said he was or if he was out with his friends doing other things. We got to his school at about 4:10 and after 30 minutes of looking, didn't find him anywhere. We should have gone further into the school. Or to Wescott. If we had we might have been able to catch who did this to him. At 5:10 my Mom's cell phone rang. We'd just begun wondering WHERE Chris was and when she answered..we found out. The guy said, "Wanda, can you get here quickly?" She replied, "I'm right here. I'm coming in. Where is he?" Turned out Chris was on the floor in the boy's locker room. Unable to move. And deadly drunk. We didn't smell alcohol on him, but something else that made my mom think of a drug. When you looked at him, he looked as if he'd ODed on a drug like ecstasy or maybe crack. He didn't even sound drunk! No slurs of the words, no stumbling over things...he was even coherent enough to correct my Mom three times. Once on his birthdate, once on his interpreting a look of hers when she asked what he saw and he said a light. She made a face that flashed by in an instant [and I barely caught!] and he said, "No, Mom. Not THAT light. The light behind your shoulders.", then again at the hospital on his weight when she said 155-160 and he said, "No, Mom. It's 153." The lady who tested his vitals at the school said she smelled the barely there scent of vodka on his breath. No one could find the bottle, but when the paramedics and police showed up, that was the first thing they found. A nearly empty bottle of Monarch's Vodka. Their response to the paralyzed kid screaming for someone to please help him and telling his family that he loved them and to find who did this to them with an incredibly intense and steady gaze [and voice] as if it were his last farewell? "Oh. He's drunk. Just take him home and let him sleep it off, he'll be fine. We have to press charges, of course, but he'll be fine except for a major hangover. He doesn't need any medical attention. Go home." None of them took in the blood ALL over his clothes and his body, NONE of them took into how his backpack and coat were placed in surprisingly nice view where they could easily grab and open the backpack, and NONE of them looked around the area to see what they could find OR talk to the students. Instead, the officer picked up the bottle in her BARE HANDS and said, "Well, no case here. It was self inflicted. Take him home."

Darned good thing we didn't follow their advice. If we had, he may have died. His blood alcohol level was 1.37. An amount that should have killed him, in all likelihood. At the hospital, they couldn't get enough blood to fill ONE vial for blood tests. So they did the blood alcohol level test and as many drug tests as they could that were "important". My Mom and I think someone may have slipped him ecstasy or a drug like that that they may not have tested for as important. No one at the hospital questioned the amount of blood on his clothes or how he looked like he had been hit [hard] on the face or the blood that was caked on his mouth and both nostrils.

The next day, the school called. My brother had almost no hangover and showed no signs of not having slept the night before for fear of dying in the middle of the night. Instead, he was hanging around with my Mom, playing videogames and trying to get back into her good graces while trying to piece together the puzzle of what had happened. Mr. Robb, the one man we had all thought would take this to the max with Chris informed my Mom he was on her side, he believed someone had set Chris up, and that there had been multiple boys involved. And that he felt there was a possibility Chris may have been attacked while on his way to the bus. He felt there was enough evidence to indicate Chris had, in fact, been honest when he said he was going to get on the bus at first. Chris remembers putting his coat on, and being in the snow. Mr. Robb and the school janitor investigated the premises and discovered an alarming "copious amount of blood" from Wescott Pool, down the corridor to the school gym, through the gym, and into the locker room. At least one boy has said that when they discovered Chris he was IN the sink in the locker room. They pulled him out and helped him get cleaned up. Then one of his friends shouted he was in trouble and the next thing Chris knew, Mom and I were there and he was crying for help because he felt he was going to die from a drug overdose. Nobody knows how Chris got from going to the bus, to Wescott, through the corridor at the school and into the locker room sink or how he ended up unable to move on the locker room floor. But the amount of blood he lost DOES explain the hospital's inability to draw his blood because his arms had gone freezing cold. And leads to the possibility of an attack at school. Not self inflicted drunkeness. [Especially since if he'd drunk all that was gone from the bottle...his blood alcohol level would have been MUCH higher. Of course, the officer made sure the alochol couldn't be tested for DNA from other students OR to see if it had been watered down by pouring the liquid out. No fingerprints can be tested for, since she tested it with her bare hands.]

So, yeah...Chris nearly died, the police refuse to investigate, but the school's assistant principal and my Mom are leading an investigation to rock the NPPD and the school to find out who did what and why it happened.

On the same night, I was in such a hurry to get BACK into the school after making some phone calls for my Mom that I slipped and fell and landed on my arm. Combined with slamming two doors open...well, my arm is in bad shape now. ^^;; It hurts so much to type...or use my hand...but I do anyway. Hehe. I'm such a bad patient for doctors to have... The doc said that my arm MIGHT be broken, but since I didn't scream in pain when he touched the break more than likely it is just a growth plate. My Mom thinks it's a break and that I broke a bone in my thumb, too, since that hurts as much as the area with the crack in the bone. [The funny part is, on the x-rays, I told the technician to put the arrow pointing to EXACTLY where the crack is. o.o;;]

And...that's my post for the day. ^^;;;





 
 
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