Once I called his father, he came immediately and got him.  John’s dad thought taking too much drugs was comparable to getting drunk on alcohol.  He thought by pouring hot coffee down him he would “sober” up.  His father called me in a few hours and told me that John was sleeping.  He said he had driven him around because that seemed to calm him down.  Then he took him back to his house, feed him, made him take a shower, and put him to bed.  I thought it was over.

He escaped from his Dad’s house at some point.  We didn’t know where he was or what had happened to him.  Later in the evening we receive a telephone call from the police.  He was in the emergency room at Saint Joseph’s Hospital.  When we got there they had him strapped down to the bed and he was giving everything he had to get away.  He was terrified.  Somehow I was able to get through to him and while I held his hand he became calmer.

The police asked me all kinds of questions.  What was he taking?  Where did he get it?  Who fixed his last needle?  They told me that they picked him up because they had received several calls about a “peeping tom”.  Apparently he was running through people’s backyards and looking in their windows.  He really thought someone was after him.  They also told me that they believe someone had laced his drugs with angel dust.  But the police generally, in my opinion, don’t know what they are talking about when it comes to drugs.  You pump meth into your veins for days and days and then throw in no sleep for about a week; you are going to get crazy every single time.

On a side note, when I went home that night from the hospital I had a visit from the drug dealer.  He wanted his money or his drugs.  I told him John had been admitted to  Saint Josephs because of an overdose and handed him the policeman’s card and told him maybe they can help you get your dope back.

They moved him to the psych ward.  To visit you had to go through sliding doors like elevator doors into a small room.  Once you were searched and cleared they opened the next set of sliding doors where you entered the day room.  There were people in different states of mental illness sitting around.  Some were watching TV.  Some were reading.  Some were playing games.  John was in a room still tied down to the bed.  When the psychiatrist came in to talk to him that first day he asked him “What is your first memory of your father?” John began to cry and said “I was bad and he left me.”  Johns’ parents divorced when he was very young and I think this event was the catalyst for all of his problems even to this day.  I know they say hindsight is 20/20, but he really needed counseling after his parent’s divorce.  At least in my opinion.

Tomorrow join me for Part 5 of my story.

If you missed the previous post

Life with John Hudgins – Introduction

Life with John Hudgins Part 1

Life with John Hudgins Part 2

Life with John Hudgins – Part 3

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