autobiography, part III

I had my first brush with death at the age of 3. A year or so ago, my Mom told me this story:

We were visiting one of her friends and I was running around the house amusing myself as they sat in the living room drinking coffee. At some point, I wandered into the lady's bedroom and found a bottle of what looked to me like candy. I ate the entire bottle, thinking I had scored big time. Turns out it wasn't candy, but Valium.

They took me to the hospital and had my stomach pumped. I guess I had started to act a little slow and dopey, and they found the empty bottle. Lucky for me. Poor lady lost all of her Valium though. I wonder if she had problems sleeping the rest of that month. Of course, back then, the pharmacy would actually replace your drugs if you lost them. I wonder how that conversation sounded...