One day, I decided – in all my five-year-old wisdom – that Sheesh and I needed to take vitamins. I must have seen kids on TV taking Flintstone vitamins, and was afraid we were missing out on something really important. So, I went into the kitchen and pulled out of the cabinet the closest thing I could find: a bottle of baby aspirin. They were so yummy. They just had to be good for you, right? I called out to Sheesh, “time to take your vitamins!” and Sheesh, trusting me without reservation, joined me in the kitchen where I proceeded to hand her, and myself, one baby aspirin after another. She and I had almost finished the entire bottle when Mom caught us. Like the unfortunate incident with the pirate ship, this was another of those “what are you DOING???” moments.

Mom saw the nearly empty bottle and panicked. She dragged me and Sheesh into the bathroom and proceeded to start shoving her fingers so far into my throat I thought her hand was in my stomach. I promptly (and obediently, I must add) gagged and proceeded to vomit every last thing I’d eaten that day. Content that she’d gotten it all, she then turned her piercing gaze and intrusive fingers toward Sheesh who had witnessed everything. And she wasn’t having it. She kept running away, but mom was faster, fired by the kind of adrenaline that can enable a woman lift a car off her child.

Did I mention my three-year-old sister was stubborn?

She. Absolutely. Refused. To. Vomit.

Nothing my mother did could force that child to throw-up the offending aspirin, even my begging and pleading. I didn’t understand why mom wanted us to throw up our vitamins, but it must be important because mom knew everything. But nothing. So, Ma made a long-distance call to one of the wise women in our clan who advised her to administer warm salt water. Next thing I know, she was trying to force both of us to drink the nasty solution. Which I did, and I promptly threw up again. Sheesh kept her mouth clamped shut, and refused (big surprise). So, Ma held Sheesh down with her foot on Sheesh’s stomach, as I continued to regurgitate the salt water concoction.   Sheesh just kept crying and shaking her head. She was NOT going to throw up. No way. No how.  

Finally, convinced that I was okay, Ma asked a neighbor to sit with me and Peeper, while she raced Sheesh to the hospital. Again. This time, to have her stomach pumped. Because of me. I had no idea what “getting your stomach pumped” meant, but based solely on Ma’s obvious concern, I was sure that Sheesh was going to die. I cried non-stop until Ma walked back into the apartment, hours later, carrying my very much alive, and victorious, little sister.

I now know that they would have had to insert a tube down her little throat, so I believe they must have had to knock her out to perform the procedure, because she was not going to willingly allow anything inside her mouth. The fact that she has no memory of anything after refusing to vomit in the bathroom, makes it all the more likely that they sedated her. But she was quite alert and happy to be home.

It wasn’t until I became an adult that I could tolerate the taste of orange Tang or Dreamsicles. Even today, the smell of either gives me a momentary flashback of mom stepping on Sheesh to prevent her from running away as I kneeled in front of the toilet and vomited two feet away.   

Ironically, orange is and always has been Sheesh’s favorite color. I think of her choosing that color as a little victory dance. A subconscious reminder that she won that battle. And even though the adult in me knows it would have been better and safer for her had she done what Ma expected her to do, the people-pleaser five year old inside of me still watches that stubborn little thing in awe and wants to cheer her on for sticking to her guns. You go little mighty girl!

Sheesh 1, Mom 0.

Also ironically, Sheesh was born in 1967 and this event happened in 1970. From Wikipedia: The child-resistant locking closure for containers was invented in 1967 by Dr. Henri Breault. A history of accidents involving children opening household packaging and ingesting the contents led the United States Congress to pass the Poison Prevention Packaging Act of 1970. I wonder if our accidental overdose was part of that “history.”