Trey Modlin
Run
from the Dream: Trading Drugs for Cardiology
I was too young to
remember my dad suffer a heart attack from a drug overdose and die during
open-heart surgery. It’s been a struggle dealing with my single mother who also
has a drug addiction and who is sure to suffer the same fate as my dad. All of
my friends and close relatives have also turned to drugs. I wish I was old
enough and mature enough to save all of them even now, but I couldn’t even
bypass my own issues.
In Harlem I regularly
dodged authority while buying and selling drugs for my mother and using some for
myself to handle stress. Days before my high school graduation however I
slipped up. I was arrested for possession while snorting cocaine during a
transfer and spent the night in the county jail. After a fine and my release I
had to plead to my high school not to deny me my diploma per school policy, and
luckily my principal let it slide. After my graduation NYU sent me a warning
which read: “If you are ever found in possession of drugs while enrolled at New
York University, then your acceptance will be withdrawn and you will be
dismissed.” Faced with these prospects I moved out of my mother’s house that
August and supported myself throughout college with money that I saved up from
working two jobs throughout high school.
I met Marcus midway
through first semester in chemistry lab while drenched in stress. Instead of
safely taking whiffs of the chemical liquids as instructed in orientation I
closed my eyes and one-by-one I sniffed directly from the flasks of dimethyl
ether and calcium sulfate like I was sniffing cocaine. Of course he didn’t know
my history before now, but he figured I was either crazy, stupid, or had
personal issues, so he approached me. “Dude, you’re going to pass out!” he
exclaimed as he yanked the toxic flask from my hand. We made eye contact, but I
just starred through him like he was a ghost. If anyone could help turn me around
mentally it was Marcus. Concerned for my safety he introduced himself and
offered me lunch. Hesitantly I accepted and we met after lab.
At lunch I discussed my
issues: my dad dying on the operating table, my drug-addicted mother, my
struggles working two jobs, the warning from NYU, and my
drug addiction. I also told him that I dreamed of turning my
life around, so I developed an interest in Cardiology, a lifestyle that was opposite
to what I had before. From this point Marcus and I developed a strong
friendship. We hung out on the weekends, and occasionally his family would
invite me over for dinner in Flushing, so his house was basically a second home
to me. I went to Harlem once in a while to visit my mother. Although I knew it
was bad, sometimes I’d take a puff of her weed and snort some of her coke behind
Marcus’s back just to handle school-related stress. Like nicotine my heart
couldn’t completely abandon my past, an issue which cost my dad his life and soon
for my mother, friends, and relatives. Even so I avoided trouble and Marcus’s
detection through the years and together we excelled in our classes. We worked
together on projects, earned high grades, and helped each other pass the MCAT. We
even got accepted into NYU’s medical school together. Although these were great
times for me there was one problem lurking which I could not evade.
It was midnight on May
5th, just two weeks before graduation. We were at Marcus’s house
when I stepped out for a few minutes. When I returned he noticed white powder
on my pants, and my hand in my coat pocket like I was concealing something.
“What do you have
there?” he asked condemningly.
“Uh, nothing, just some
mail.”
“At this time of night?
Come on. Show me what’s in your hand.”
Resignedly I revealed a
bag of white rocks and powder.
“How long has this been
going on?” he asked.
“A few weeks – I met an
old friend from high school who moved to this side of town recently.”
“But look at how far
you’ve come.” He continued, “Don’t think you’re in the clear just because
you’ve been accepted into medical school. If you start getting involved with
the stuff that got you in trouble in high school, you’ll be in jail and you’ll
be kicked out of school. Plus you’ll die sooner like your dad did and like your
mom will.”
“I’m sorry. I tried to
stop, but the urge was just too much. No matter where I go there are always
drugs. Even when I stop using for a while I’m always reminded of my past
addiction.”
I tried to continue,
but I choked up and started moving for the door before he cut me off.
“Look. You’re not
getting yourself into trouble again. I’ve been here for you for this long and I
don’t want to see you throw away your future over methamphetamine, or cocaine,
or whatever you’re using.”
The next
day was our final gross anatomy lab of the semester. On our cadaver Marcus saw
evidence of carditis, inflammation of the heart, which likely led to a heart
attack and its death.
“See
this?” he sternly stated. “This will be you if you continue your bad habits.”
I gazed at
the cadaver envisioning my dad in his open casket,
subliminally connecting to the cadaver. I was too young to remember his
funeral, so I just used my imagination.
“I can help you, but only if you also
help yourself” Marcus continued. “Do yourself a favor and stop before you get
yourself in more trouble.”
“For real this time. I can do this.” I
responded triumphantly. “I’m done. No more coke. No more meth. No more dealing.
I’ll just tell Kenneth I’m leaving so he doesn’t except me anymore. That’s it.”
But I wouldn’t get another chance. I
forgot that I had stored a bag of angel dust and a bag of weed in my lab coat
pocket, which both fell to the ground – just as the dean of the biology
department walked in to conduct a post-semester inspection. He heard the bags
fall and swiftly walked over in a manner which signaled trouble. I stared at
him and froze. I couldn’t move. Finally, before he could get to me, Marcus
shouted, “RUN!” I dropped my backpack and my lab coat and bolted for the door.
From there only one door separated me from the streets and nearly nine miles separated
me from the streets to the projects of Harlem. All I could do was run: run from
the dream of turning my life around, run from the dream of saving lives, run
from the only positive influence in my life, run from the dream of trading drugs for cardiology.
I really enjoyed this story. It is a neatly written story that is easy to follow.
ReplyDeleteI connected with Marcus immediately since I have friends that have had drug addictions and have been in that situation where you would do anything. Reading the words
“I’ve been here for you for this long and I don’t want to see you throw away your future” seem almost as if they are dejave. This shows just that Marcus is willing to do anything to keep his friend on the right track. Setting up this relationship brings a sense of balance to the story. Everyone else in the narrator’s life seems to be a negative proven as he states, “All of my friends and close relatives have also turned to drugs”. By adding Marcus to the story it puts someone in the narrators corner to help him through his addiction, thus for balancing the playing field. I continued to read the story I felt myself pulling for the narrator. I was rutting for him as he was getting his life together.
This story does a good job of making the reader connect to the narrator. Even though, throughout the story, I couldn’t help but get extremely frustrated at him for being the one the one that is tampering throwing his future away time after time, I still wished him the best and felt a sense of pride for how far he had come. I really appreciated the way this story set up that relation ship between the narrator and I. This story also did a good job of setting up the dilemma buy having NYU send a letter saying “if you are ever found in possession of drugs while enrolled at New York University, then your acceptance will be withdrawn and you will be dismissed”. This shows the risks that the narrator takes every time he decides to use. It is almost to say its not bad enough that you may have a heart-attack, but that if you do get caught, you aren’t going to have anything to live for anyways, your whole future will be thrown away. Another thing I liked about this story is the language used. Modlin shows knowledge in the field that he is writing about. An example of this is when he writes that the boys are in lab and Marcus notices “evidence of carditis, inflammation of the heart, which likely led to a heart attack and its death”. Not everyone would know this. Another writerly choice I appreciated was that he stated that the narrator wished he could “bypass” all of his problems just as a surgeon would do a double bypass on a faulty heart to avoid the problem area.
There are only a few critiques that I would suggestion to make this story just a little better. I would change the title because just by reading that I get the feeling that he is going to be a doctor. Another thing is maybe setting up the end to be a little more suspenseful by letting the reader know that he has drugs on him before they just fall on the floor.
I related this story to “Shooting Man” because I felt that the narrator had ended his life when he got caught and the reason for his death was his own fault.