I was working out in the Hollar the other night when I got a call to go check out two kids that had been found in a meth lab.  Just from the dispatcher’s description of the run, I knew I was going to be there for an extended amount of time.  Social workers tend to freak out when kids are found in these types of environments (as well they should) and require them to be seen in an ER, get x-rays, CT scans, and a full work up.  I have been to a few of these shin digs over the years and it is hard not to build up a few preconceived notions before you get on scene.  There are usually some toothless, shady, redneck types wearing wife-beaters and screaming profanities from the back of squad car. Drug labs are never like they are on TV.  We are talking about the great unwashed here.  These people usually need to be scraped off the bottom of society’s shoe so that we can get on with it.

However, when I got there, there was no screaming.  No tasers.  No line of suspects handcuffed on the curb.  There were just three really sad looking adults sitting cross-legged in different parts of a long driveway.  It was the middle of the night and one female was coddling two sleeping children wrapped in blankets.

I asked one of the officers what was happening, and he tried to explain the concept of a one-step lab to me.  Apparently the process has gotten a bit streamlined and there are people who specialize in just one or two parts of the process.  It looks like this group had concentrated on removing the lithium from store-bought batteries.  There were hundreds of casings in the back yard.  There were also a few dozen 2-liter Coke bottles in a room upstairs.  I was brought in to examine the children for any sort of exposure to toxic chemicals.

I had the mother bring a little girl over to my response vehicle and sit in the back of it while I checked her daughter.  As I have said before, I am a pretty cold individual when it comes to patient care, and there is not much that bothers me.  However, it wasn’t long before I started feeling uneasy as if my usual defenses were being bypassed by the little girl and her mother.

“How old is she?” I asked the mother.

“She’s five. She just started school last week.”

My daughter is five.  She just started school.

“To your knowledge, was she ever exposed to what you guys were doing in there?”

“Oh, Lord no! We would never let them anywhere near that awful stuff.  I know how bad it is.  We just did it for the money.  She never saw any of it.  I love my daughter.”

As the conversation went on, I was amazed at how articulate the mother was.  It was obvious that she was not drunk or high.  She was well spoken.  She was clean and respectful.  She knew everything about their history and their shot records.  She was answering my questions just like any other concerned mother would.

What normally happens in these circumstances is that the kids are removed from the parents and placed into foster care while the parents are arraigned and charged.  They have been cracking down on meth labs lately and there was a high probability that these folks were going to do some jail time.  After my examination, the children were going to be transported by the police to a nearby childrens’ hospital where they would be medically cleared and then placed into foster care.  What usually makes these kinds of situation bearable is the fact that the clientele is so trashy that it is easy to believe that you are doing the kids a favor by removing them.  Whatever they get in foster care has got to be better than the kind of care they are receiving now. Right?

But I was having trouble telling this to myself this time.  Sure, the parents should not have been doing what they were doing.  But from my conversation, I was really getting the impression that these people had been ground up in the financial collapse, had been out of work for months and were having trouble feeding their kids.  She didn’t tell me as much, but it looked as though they got desperate and someone had told them that if they cut up these batteries in a certain way, and mixed a few things into these two-liter bottles…they could make some money and stay afloat.

I don’t condone meth labs.  And I know that the end doesn’t justify the means.  I would never resort to making drugs to support my family, but I wonder what I would do to put food in their mouths.  I have just gone through the failure of my business and spent a lot of sleepless nights wondering how I was going to pay my bills.  I always managed to get by somehow.  But what if I hadn’t?  What if I had lost my car and my house?  What if I had no money for groceries for Zoe?  What would I be willing to do?

The answer is just about fucking anything.

“Ma’am, I need to see her face and check her eyes.  I know she is asleep, but I have to take a look at her.”

I finally got a glimpse of the 5-year-old girl that looked a lot like my daughter, or at least someone that could be my daughter’s friend.  She was tired and didn’t understand why she was outside.  She was holding tight to her mother but put up with my examination and was very sweet all the way through it.

I was about to examine the other child when another truck arrived.  I told them to examine the other kid as I was starting to get uncomfortable with the whole process.  The mother thanked me and resumed sitting on the driveway with her kids in her lap, rocking them back and forth.  I was told that the evidence collection team would be arriving soon and that the social worker was not far away either.  The mother heard this and became frantic.  She held her kids tighter and stared at their sleeping faces.

And then it hit me.  She knows.  She knows that they are about to be taken away and that she may not see them for days or weeks.  If she was convicted it might be months.  How would I act if I knew my kids were about to be taken from me?  How would I feel?  What would I do?  Then I looked around at the other adults and I didn’t see stupid trash that deserved to have their kids taken away.  I saw the saddest people I have ever seen.  The most remorseful people I have ever seen.  The most fearful.

That was too much for me.  Too many hits to the mental armor.  I started to go into mega-cold professional mode and started talking business.  I was relieved when the other truck arrived on scene.  They were going to stand by while the evidence collection team entered into the house.  My duties were done and I could leave.  I saw the social worker arrive and gave a short report to her.  I then asked if there was any reason for me to stay and I was told no.  I left before they were separated.  I was too chicken to see it out.  I was thankful to run.  I know it is not logical to feel bad about that, but I do.  My presence would not have changed anything, but I don’t like running from anything.  And run I did.  I made sure I was nowhere near that place when the kids were taken from their parents.

Foster care is not all it is cracked up to be.  There are a lot of questions, a lot of crying, a lot of anxiety, and a lot of fear.  It is necessary, but that doesn’t mean it is pleasant.  I hope that little girl and her brother are doing well.  I think back to the last five years I have spent trying to raise Zoe.  We taught her everything we could.  We read to her every night.  We try as hard as we can to keep her well fed, educated, and happy.  She has no idea how dangerously low the numbers got in our bank account.  She always got a meal.  She doesn’t know why daddy had to work so much this month and couldn’t be home.  She didn’t stay up all night wondering if there would be enough money for her school supplies and shoes.  She just sees the results and feels our love.  She has no idea how out of control it actually is sometimes.  I am thankful she doesn’t know.  That is the beauty of kids.  They don’t know how much we are faking it.  They just love us.

So where ever that little girl is, I wish her luck.  I wish her parents luck too.  They screwed up.  They are paying the price.  They have to.  That’s the way of things.   But hopefully we can all build a world where Zoe won’t have to look at her daughter and wonder how she is going to feed her.  If there is one thing I want for my daughter, I want her to not worry as much about her children as I worry about mine.  Hopefully we can all live in a world where we can all get the education we need to do a fair job and get a fair wage from an employer who will uphold a moral responsibility for the power they hold over our families.  Right?  Yeah, I know…what about plan B?