At first, I thought he was just being silly—my son took a sip of soda and made that funny “too fizzy” face. But soon, everything changed. He stopped laughing, began clawing at his skin, muttering “Get it off,” and suddenly collapsed.
Within 20 minutes, we were in the ER. I could barely speak as nurses rushed to save him. Tests showed the soda had been tampered with, but no one knew how or why. He eventually stirred and whispered, “Am I in a spaceship?”—a moment that shattered me.
Doctors said he’d recover, but the trauma stayed. Even months later, the sound of a soda can made me freeze. Then it happened again. At the park, after drinking a juice box, he had the same terrifying reaction. But this time, it wasn’t poison—it was trauma. His body was reliving that fear, triggered by anything sugary or fizzy.
We began therapy and slowly reintroduced safe experiences. He made progress. Still, I searched for answers—until a letter arrived from the soda company. What I thought was a routine apology turned out to be a confession: a disgruntled employee had tampered with the soda. He’d since been fired. But the town on the return address led me to an article about a man arrested years ago for similar crimes—Aaron Walker. It was him.
Justice, at last. But the real healing came in watching my son face his fears, one small step at a time. What started as a nightmare led us to strength we never knew we had. Sometimes the universe reveals truth in the most unexpected ways—and sometimes, tragedy leads to transformation.