Rebecca TerBeek
Viengvilay Oudonesom
CRN: 72958 Greed “Please put your hands on your head” I was twenty-eight and never thought I would ever hear those words. At least not directed at me. I was standing in my home-town HEB pharmacy waiting on the lady you give me a prescription that I had written myself. My daughter, Taylor was running around the store like a wild banshee. At that moment all I could think about was what he said right before he sent me in to my execution. He said “Everything is going to be fine, just stay calm and keep your cool”. There is a moment in time when your whole life changes direction, sometimes for good sometimes for bad. I believe at that moment my life changed its course. It was beautiful outside. I’m not sure of the exact date. There is a lot of things in regards to that time period of my life that I do not remember. What I do know is it was not to hot nor was it too cold. So, it had to be sometime in the fall of 2008. There were beautiful colors on the trees that were now overpowering the once green foliage. Michael, my husband and I were full force on our self-destructive quest to addiction. I don’t even know how it all got out of hand. A friend of mine gave me a couple of loracets because I had fallen down a flight of stairs at work and my back was hurting. Growing up in a nurtureing, stable home I never had any encounters with the law, and had no intentions to. The way I seen it jail was for low life people with drug problems. When children are asked what they want to be when they grow-up, “convict” almost never is the answer. The point I’m trying to make is; I did not grow up in an environment watching my family go in and out of jail. My grandmother and grandfather are respectable role models.
Michael was working for Cooper Cameron making a very comfortable living for the three of us. I was a stay at home wife and a decent mother. Taylor, my daughter and I would occasional go with Michael on out of town dry land jobs. We were not your typical average American family with 2.1 kids, but we were upstanding citizens of our College Station community. When we married on July of 2005, things were good and if I had been told that in a couple of years not only would I be in jail but also have an out of control pill addiction, I would have laughed in your face. The introduction of pills in our lives was devastating and the ultimate cause of my husband Michael’s death.
Our lives had become discombobulated and neither one of us should have been allowed to make decisions. During one of my trips to the doctor while I was waiting on the nurse to bring back my prescription, I noticed that the doctor had left something on the counter. What he left on that counter changed my life. Michael asked me, “well what did they give you” and I replied “heaven” he had left my one way ticket to jail, or also known as a prescription pad. I’m sure at the rate we were going I would have eventually ended up in jail or possibly dead, that pad just got the ball rolling. We discovered that it is much easier and defiantly