The Neighbors
My old neighbors -- well, the ones that live next door to my mom -- went through a dramatic tragedy today. My mom called me three times -- the first time, to tell me that a giant paramedics truck was at the neighbors' house, presumably for the very elderly grandfather that lived with them, and that it was blocking her driveway and she couldn't leave home to run errands...and then the second time to tell me what had actually happened that had summoned the paramedics, police, and an ambulance: our neighbors' 26-year-old daughter had overdosed on something. Later on, my mom would call me one last time to tell me she'd seen the "corner truck" -- her words, I figured out, for "coroner's van". The girl had died.
My mom gave me this weird, disjointed explanation of things that she got from our other neighbor who is fairly close to the family, but the story was pretty much this: our neighbors' 26-year-old daughter (her name escapes me, but we'd lived next door to each other since I was 15), had gone away to school in Norway...as a pre-med student. I remember that part, because I remember the father being so proud that she'd chosen the medical field, and that he had been bragging about how far she would go in this profession to my mother.
I'm not sure what happened -- whether it was stress-related or what -- but somehow, she became addicted to some kind of medication. I'm not sure what her drug of choice was, but it was enough of an addiction so that when she returned from school, her family quietly sent her off to rehab.
Since they are a private family and keep to themselves, all the time I'd been living at home, I had no idea that she had gone from school abroad...back home...and off to rehab. I'm not sure how long she had been gone for, but within this last year, even when I was still living at home, I'd noticed that I'd run into her at the local CVS and the Blockbuster Video (both five minutes away from our houses) more often.
I had also noticed that she had lost an INCREDIBLE amount of weight since I'd seen her right before her departure for school -- while growing up, she'd always been on the heavier side of things, taking after her mother, who is much rounder and more heavyset in comparison to her father, who is lean and fit. I mean, when I saw her a week or so ago when I was at my mom's house, she wasn't supermodel-thin or The Biggest Loser-thin, but I could see her weight-loss was visibly significant, albeit it did make her look so much more...deflated, like it'd been an unhealthy ride down from being heavy.
One interesting thing is, my mom, upon seeing her recently while I was over there, had even remarked to me in her Taiwanese mother way, "Wow, you should ask her what diet plan she was on, so you can get on the same plan because you need it!" (Thanks, Mom.)
Well, I guess now we know how she'd been able to lose so much weight and still managed to look less-than-healthy...it hadn't been a diet or her own willpower or resolve to lose weight. It was the addiction...and its aftermath.
In any case, since medical school didn't work out, I guess she had recently begun attending pharmacy school -- the runner-up, I guess, to medical school. My questions here were, "What? Pharmacy school? After being addicted to medication? Is that allowed?"
I'm not sure if she had gotten stressed out over pharmacy school or what have you, but apparently...they had, somewhere along the way, also diagnosed her with bipolar disorder. I suppose this, coupled with her past addiction, manifested itself into something far larger: today, July 5th, 2009, she had managed to take too much of or incorrectly blend her medication in some manner. She had gone to sleep. She didn't wake up. And her family was unable to revive her.
Houses in my mom's neighborhood are relatively close together. That's just how some residential tracts are built here, that neighborhood included. I remember thinking, when I first moved back to Orange County, that it was a little scary to hear more birds and small animals in my jungle-like backyard than it was to be able to hear my neighbors' goings ons. I'm used to it now, so I think it would have been more disturbing to hear what my mother said she was able to hear today -- the girl's father yelling something that sounded like, "Don't you know how old you are?!", trying to revive his daughter and desperately trying to convince her that she had her whole life ahead of her...and the girl's mother, sobbing and crying uncontrollably. Then the sirens and the rolling of the larger vehicles rolling down that little residential street, coming to try saving her. And finally...the quiet approach of the county coroner's van...
I will be the first to admit that I am not close to any of the neighbors that I've lived next door to. I think that's how it works when you live in Southern California -- like you know each other and say hello, and that's only when you actually see each other, because you're so consumed with your own life. You don't really KNOW-know your neighbors like how some Wal-Mart commercials make it look like.
Even so...even though I don't know them well, I think I'd like everybody to send good thoughts and wishes their way because they really and truly need it right now...even if I don't know their names, know what REALLY happened, or even how to approach them in the future.
My mom gave me this weird, disjointed explanation of things that she got from our other neighbor who is fairly close to the family, but the story was pretty much this: our neighbors' 26-year-old daughter (her name escapes me, but we'd lived next door to each other since I was 15), had gone away to school in Norway...as a pre-med student. I remember that part, because I remember the father being so proud that she'd chosen the medical field, and that he had been bragging about how far she would go in this profession to my mother.
I'm not sure what happened -- whether it was stress-related or what -- but somehow, she became addicted to some kind of medication. I'm not sure what her drug of choice was, but it was enough of an addiction so that when she returned from school, her family quietly sent her off to rehab.
Since they are a private family and keep to themselves, all the time I'd been living at home, I had no idea that she had gone from school abroad...back home...and off to rehab. I'm not sure how long she had been gone for, but within this last year, even when I was still living at home, I'd noticed that I'd run into her at the local CVS and the Blockbuster Video (both five minutes away from our houses) more often.
I had also noticed that she had lost an INCREDIBLE amount of weight since I'd seen her right before her departure for school -- while growing up, she'd always been on the heavier side of things, taking after her mother, who is much rounder and more heavyset in comparison to her father, who is lean and fit. I mean, when I saw her a week or so ago when I was at my mom's house, she wasn't supermodel-thin or The Biggest Loser-thin, but I could see her weight-loss was visibly significant, albeit it did make her look so much more...deflated, like it'd been an unhealthy ride down from being heavy.
One interesting thing is, my mom, upon seeing her recently while I was over there, had even remarked to me in her Taiwanese mother way, "Wow, you should ask her what diet plan she was on, so you can get on the same plan because you need it!" (Thanks, Mom.)
Well, I guess now we know how she'd been able to lose so much weight and still managed to look less-than-healthy...it hadn't been a diet or her own willpower or resolve to lose weight. It was the addiction...and its aftermath.
In any case, since medical school didn't work out, I guess she had recently begun attending pharmacy school -- the runner-up, I guess, to medical school. My questions here were, "What? Pharmacy school? After being addicted to medication? Is that allowed?"
I'm not sure if she had gotten stressed out over pharmacy school or what have you, but apparently...they had, somewhere along the way, also diagnosed her with bipolar disorder. I suppose this, coupled with her past addiction, manifested itself into something far larger: today, July 5th, 2009, she had managed to take too much of or incorrectly blend her medication in some manner. She had gone to sleep. She didn't wake up. And her family was unable to revive her.
Houses in my mom's neighborhood are relatively close together. That's just how some residential tracts are built here, that neighborhood included. I remember thinking, when I first moved back to Orange County, that it was a little scary to hear more birds and small animals in my jungle-like backyard than it was to be able to hear my neighbors' goings ons. I'm used to it now, so I think it would have been more disturbing to hear what my mother said she was able to hear today -- the girl's father yelling something that sounded like, "Don't you know how old you are?!", trying to revive his daughter and desperately trying to convince her that she had her whole life ahead of her...and the girl's mother, sobbing and crying uncontrollably. Then the sirens and the rolling of the larger vehicles rolling down that little residential street, coming to try saving her. And finally...the quiet approach of the county coroner's van...
I will be the first to admit that I am not close to any of the neighbors that I've lived next door to. I think that's how it works when you live in Southern California -- like you know each other and say hello, and that's only when you actually see each other, because you're so consumed with your own life. You don't really KNOW-know your neighbors like how some Wal-Mart commercials make it look like.
Even so...even though I don't know them well, I think I'd like everybody to send good thoughts and wishes their way because they really and truly need it right now...even if I don't know their names, know what REALLY happened, or even how to approach them in the future.