WARNING: GRAPHIC IMAGE AT THE END OF THIS POST. YOU WILL SEE A WARNING BEFORE YOU REACH IT.
Monday, April 27, was my mom’s birthday. Just over a month after my stepdad passed away from cancer, she turned 59.
It was supposed to be a good day.
Jordan and I spent the morning driving an hour out west to buy an elliptical from our friend. (Quarantine workout, am I right?!). We had borrowed my mom’s truck to grab the workout equipment, and we arrived back to my apartment around 1pm.
And that’s when my son almost died.