Chapter 3 - MY BLOODDr. Emily Foster could not see me because she treated Chloe, not adults.
She did, however, have a useful sentence.
“If you believe an unidentified substance may have been put into your drink, do not consume it and contact poison control or emergency medical services depending on symptoms.”
I had symptoms.
That was the problem.
For almost six weeks.
Dizziness.
Morning nausea.
Fatigue.
Two episodes where I struggled to remember entire conversations.
Once, I nearly fell asleep in a parking garage at ten in the morning.
Julian blamed my workload.
I blamed perimenopause, though I was thirty-seven and my physician had told me there was no particular reason to jump there.
Eleanor blamed my “nerves.”
Now all three explanations felt different.
I called my internist.
She told me to go to the emergency department because I had consumed similar tea on prior mornings and currently felt lightheaded.
Julian offered to drive.
I said no.
Then reconsidered.
Driving myself while possibly drugged would be idiotic.
Chloe went to my sister Megan.
Eleanor remained at the house.
I wanted her out.
Our lawyer would later explain that residency made immediate removal more complicated than anger preferred.
At the hospital, I told the physician exactly what I knew.
Not:
My mother-in-law has been poisoning me.
Instead:
“My daughter says she saw my mother-in-law put white powder in my tea. I did not drink today’s cup. I have consumed tea prepared by her on multiple recent mornings and have experienced unexplained drowsiness.”
The doctor ordered testing.
Standard panels first.
Then targeted toxicology based on symptoms and the physical substance if police or lab analysis identified it.
That afternoon, a preliminary screen came back positive for a benzodiazepine-class sedating medication.
I had no prescription for one.
I stared at the physician.
“Could the hospital test be wrong?”
“Screening tests can have false positives. Confirmation matters.”
“Could any medication I take trigger it?”
She reviewed my list.
“Nothing obvious.”
I called Julian.
He answered:
“Nora?”
“There’s a sedative in my blood.”
Silence.
That silence would become familiar.
Then:
“Are you sure?”
“No. They’re confirming.”
“Okay.”
I waited.
He did not ask which sedative.
He did not ask whether I could have taken it accidentally.
He said:
“Don’t call Mom yet.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why?”
May you like
Another pause.
“Because there’s something I need to tell you first.”
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