Mom used to clean her paintbrushes with the heavy-duty solvent turpentine. The truth, however, was that she wasn’t painting much anymore in her small art studio upstairs. With Heidi, age six, and myself at age two (almost three) and a husband with dependence issues, she just didn’t have time. So, it made sense that the turpentine eventually got pushed back into in the deepest recesses of the downstairs closet.

This was an old utility closet between the kitchen and the dining room. It was stuffed tight with a vacuum, shelves of cleaning supplies, a bucket full of heavily used rags which were really just torn-up clothes, pajamas and worn-out washcloths. As a result, everything inside gave that closet a peculiar smell. That odor escaped every time someone opened the door. I can literally conjure up that smell to this day.

On a chilly spring morning in 1963, that door was open, and that peculiar odor escaped, pulling me right towards it.

I had been sitting on the window seat in our dining room, looking out to our backyard, but I couldn’t resist this new temptation. Still in my pajamas, I slid down from the seat and crept in to investigate. I saw Mom was busy talking to Ida, the woman who helped with cleaning occasionally.

The turpentine, strangely, was out. It was something I had never seen before. It was sitting right out on the floor, lid removed, just outside of the closet, with a dirty rag lying beside it. Mom had just tried getting a spot out on the floor with it.

With their backs turned from me, I was instantly curious by the small tin can. It was unusual. I picked it up, placing my tiny nose near the top, and sniffed. It smelled like trees. I liked the smell. And so, I drank it; some of it anyway.

I dropped it and the tin hit the linoleum hard. Heads turned. Someone screamed. Maybe it was me. Pain burned down my throat. Mom picked up the phone and dialed “0” for the operator and yelled “this is an emergency!” An ambulance arrived, and they put me on a stretcher. They gave me something to counter the poison and took me to the Emergency Room at University Hospital in Cleveland, where they pumped my stomach.

Mom and Dad arrived after they had already put a nasty-looking tube down my throat. A doctor pulled my parents aside and said, “Your daughter might have a condition called Pica. It’s when someone compulsively puts non-food items in their mouths.”

“It’s possible,” he continued, “given your daughter’s age, that she was only curious. That is very common with small children.” He concluded, “but I recommend you stay vigilant about what she places in her mouth.”

I healed and never tried anything life-threatening again I did try dirt and sand out once, but my main symptom was chewing A LOT of ice.

Somewhere in my 30s, I developed some nausea and a fever after coming home from a vacation. I ended up in the emergency room where they performed an endoscopy.

Afterwards, the doctor asked me about the lining of my stomach. It was heavily scarred.

“How did this happen?” he inquired.

I had completely forgotten about the turpentine incident from so long ago and thought hard on what it might be.

“I used to eat a lot of saltines,” I shrugged.

“No, saltines wouldn’t do this” he shook his head and walked away with a weird look.

It took me months to recall my childhood event and thought about the doctor’s response.

“Oh my God, it was the turpentine, of course!” I realized. I had buried that day very well.

Judging from his look, I wondered if he thought I had been hiding from him some attempt to hurt myself or I had been abused or something. Neither was the case, but I can only imagine what an Emergency Room doctor faces in a shift.

Unfortunately, since then, I have developed GERD (Gastric Esophagus Reflux Disease) where stomach acid creeps up and burns the esophagus and then ultimately; they diagnosed me with Barrett’s Esophagus. This condition means that the doctor can see actual damage to the esophagus from acid (it becomes red and thickened) and as it tries to heal, the lining heals abnormally and changes from cells that look like skin to cells that look like intestinal cells. This can be pre-cancerous.

I don’t know if there is a connection between my mistake and health issues decades later. I just might be someone who had bad heartburn. Now that I’m on a daily drug, I don’t have it at all.

It was surprising to learn that the child-resistant safety cap was invented in 1967. I assumed it came along in the 70s or 80s. It wouldn’t have prevented my incident anyway, as the lid was off. I see it as a classic “turn my back for a second” parental story. Sadly, it’s still happening today.

I’m a tad late in posting this during National Poison Prevention Week as it was four weeks ago, but the intent and message is exactly the same.

Most people already know to keep chemicals and potentially poisonous substances in locked cabinets and out of the reach of children.

But there are a few newer hazards out there. For instance, tiny batteries in toys, headphones or game electronics are poisonous. The liquid nicotine used in e-cigarettes is also poisonous, as is the amount of alcohol in hand sanitizer which ranges from 40% to 95%. A child ingesting any more than a taste of hand sanitizer could be at risk for alcohol poisoning. 

With new generations come new threats. I realize I am unbelievably lucky and indebted to have survived mine.

Photo Credit: Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com