At 2:35pm yesterday, I thought I was having a heart attack. I was aloft in my bucket going my job when I got that dreaded 619 Chula Vista number. I answered it. “A inmate at The San Diego Detention Center is attempting to call you…” After a few minutes, there he was. “Matt! Listen and don’t say anything. I’m coming down there.” I told him about me attending his hearing and of how a public defender was his only option and unfortunately for him, he was going to sit there till this whole thing got resolved. He didn’t like the last two facts.
After a few minutes of him telling me that his mother and I never cared about him, I replied, “We sent you down to San Diego so you wouldn’t freeze to death. You nearly got your mother evicted from her apartment and how many times were you detained by the police for acting up. Every shelter you got in, you were told to vacate. You don’t get it. We didn’t want you to freeze to death.” He didn’t want to listen.
He asked if I could set up a canteen account and I told him I would. I tried to then tell him to inform his public defender that he had been in numerous locked down hospital facilities in the past few years. He lashed out and said, “Mom and you want put this label on me and have me taking medicine. I’m not what you two say I am!” He then hung up. The moment the call ended, I fell back on the bucket’s railing and gasped for breath.
This sounds terribly over the top but I managed to turn on the lift motor and lowered the boom to the ground. I got out of the bucket and made my way to the cab of my truck where I sat there for 20 minutes. I was hyper- ventilating and soaked in sweat. The customer I had been working for saw I was in distress and came up to my truck and said, “Do you want me to call 911?” I nodded, “No.” He stood by me until I told him what had happened. He went into his house and brought me a bottle of water. Other than that it was a wonderful Sunday…This too will pass