At this point in the story, I was finally in a hospital bed. There were bandages for the gash in my forehead ~ for which, since I was hanging by my neck in a looped belt, there is no explanation. There were bandages running up the operation incision (running from just below the ear almost to the collar bone) in my neck ~ which was closed with butterfly bandages to reduce the scarring. There were no bandages on the slits I made in my neck ~ those, I was told, would heal by themselves with no visible scarring. So far … I was able to absorb that much information. I was also introduced to “the watcher.” Basically, there was going to be someone sitting at the foot of my bed 24/7. While people think that it’s only to keep someone from trying again, it actually provides much more than that.

There was constant monitoring (and recording) of what I was doing, my mood and my activities. They were also expected, during the day, to engage me in conversation.

They were supposed to, but I really didn’t want much of that. I discovered that the day watchers loved “trash TV.” If you are not familiar with that term, it covers all the reality (supposedly) type shows from Jerry Springer to Divorce Court and everything in between. So I would turn the TV (which I didn’t want to watch anyway.) toward the foot of my bed and they could watch to their heart’s delight.

The statistics are a little frightening. Someone of my..um…age who is depressed, is very likely to make a suicide attempt (there had been three half-hearted previous ~ I’d posted about one of them in Poison to Medicine) and what I did before was not more than an overture for this event. The most frightening statistic is that those of my age who make an attempt are probably going to make another one ~ and succeed without life skills retraining and/or serious intervention and/or continued therapy, help/support system. And so, the real journey had started.

— more tomorrow

When I left off the last post, I mentioned that EMT, Police and Fire had arrived at the complex and all of them in my apartment. I had sat down in the chair by the computer and awaited the arrival. I had not realized that as many people would show up. I also had not realized I was going to be asked so many questions ~ some of which did not make sense. Please understand, at that time I was without any money, no resources, no insurance and no place to stay. I really didn’t think there was anyone that would help me. I became at that moment completely homeless and penniless. A very interesting situation to find myself.

Finally they decided I would not be able to walk and they brought a gurney in to take me to the ambulance. This meant that I would be taken through the courtyard of the apartment complex, which was full of residents trying to find out what was going on. It was not an exit I was looking forward to but I really didn’t have much choice in the matter. This involved taking me through the living room door into the office and down six steps. I was barely aware of who was there … except for three people, one of whom I gestured to come up and I held her hand for a long time. I had no idea what was going to happen to me, and for the first time in a very long time I was very, very frightened.

There was a discussion in the ambulance about where I wanted to be taken. They suggested this very nice and very expensive hospital ~ not really an option. I wanted to be taken to the level 1 trauma center here, which also treats people without question of money and/or insurance. I finally convinced them to take me there. I realize now that I must have had a concussion of some type from the fall that created the very large gash to the bone in my forehead. The ambulance people were very concerned that I stay awake and kept asking me “stuff.” I had to describe at least three times what I had done, how I did it and with what ~ all I wanted to do was go to sleep.

I have no memory of the arrival at the hospital ER room. This particular ER I had written about before last December and didn’t realize how accurate it would be.

The trauma team
all wear
black shirts.
Around them
an occasional
flash of
white whirling
about.

I don’t think
I would
want to wake
up surrounded
by black shirts.
There are times
my life is
black enough
as it is.

It is true, most of the team wear black t-shirts saying trauma on the back. There are memories of the black shirts all around getting me undressed ~ and damn it was cold in there. There was poking, prodding, turning me this way and that, many questions I don’t remember. Finally two white coats were suddenly there. All I could remember was a very, very old song ~ “They’re coming to take me away … hee hee. They’re coming to take me away … ho ho. The little men in the little white coats are coming to take me away.”

All I wanted to do was sleep … but there were a number of forms to sign ~ I had left my glasses back in the apartment, and couldn’t read any of them. There were some discussions that occurred. Finally, there were nothing but white coats around me, and all of them were concerned with the gash in my forehead and evidently the concussion. I kept trying to tell them about my neck … and they kept poking the forehead and shining a flashlight in my eyes.

One of them finally ~ begrudgingly ~ looked at the slits in my neck. I learned a new hospital term. Ordinarily when there is a problem that is serious, the term is “Do something STAT!” I’ve seen it in television shows, read it in books and heard it used even in that very ER. THIS time when one of his fingers literally went into one of the slits on my neck ~ quite deeply. I got the hear the new term: “Oh Shit!” I thought it a rather interesting replacement, but who was I to argue??

—more tomorrow

As I mentioned in the last post ~ this story I’m telling has undergone some deep thinking an reflection, soul searching and hesitation.

In the last post I said, it was around the 28th of August that I quit my job and supposedly had to move out of my apartment within 72 hours. I had no plans, no place I knew of to go, but somehow, in the sickness of my mind I was convinced that it would all work out. Of course, it wasn’t going to and certainly didn’t. During the 2 1/2 months that I was managing I was also managing to cut myself off from everyone. I still talked to my Mother twice a day, as I had for almost two years, but even she was beginning to suspect things were not right.

And what did I do for the 72 hours that I needed to make plans and provisions? I drank. When you know that your replacement is going to be coming into the office ~ connected to the apartment ~ at 9:00am, any sane person would sneak out of the apartment around 7:00am and drink until it was safe to go back … right? Trust me on this one, there are very few bars worth visiting at 7:00 in the morning.

I would sleep a little, toss and turn, pace the floor and then sleep a little more. Rinse and repeat.

By now, I was not only at the bottom of the cliff, I was under the rocks at the bottom and trying to dig down even further. I kept trying to find ways to sleep the entire night, but nothing worked ~ even overdosing on the over-the-counter medicines that use Benadryl as the only ingredient. By now, I had stopped calling anyone I knew, was refusing to answer my cell phone and decided that I was going to have to disappear to get out of the hell I was living.

–strong stuff follows …you have been warned…

Sometime during the night of the 31st (I believe I have the dates right), I came to a terrible conclusion. The only way out that I could see was to end everything … permanently, finally and absolutely. No partial or half measures. This was going to be it. The final curtain. From this point on, there are flashes of what happened and what happened to me. I do not have all the pieces and may never get them back … and probably don’t want to.

I knew that I needed to get it done early in the morning, before anyone arrived in the office. Now understand that one office door was four steps from my bedroom and the other door was 7 steps to the living room. Not exactly the world’s biggest space and certainly too close to the apartment to hide anything. But I managed to — I managed to.

When I made that decision. it was as if a light switch had been turned off, there was no going back and no pain (that’s important later). And so I committed suicide. No, I did not make a mistake on the verbs. I should not be alive, however, I am so grateful that it didn’t succeed and that I have gone through all that I have been through. I am a very different person from what I was a number of months ago – but, you know what ~ I’m also still the same.

I took my belt and made a loop around the clothes rack in the closet because that was the strongest place and I knew it would hold my weight. A few quick breaths and I put my neck in the loop ~ forcefully. The quickness that blackness overcame me was surprising. I was done. Unfortunately to my sick mind, but fortunately for me ~ I woke up on the floor with a large gash in my forehead down to the bone – that wasn’t bleeding and didn’t hurt. OK, this obviously wasn’t going to work … there must be some other way.

Now, in all honesty, someone in their mind would have simply stopped after the belt failure (makes it sound like a vacuum cleaner!)and said: “Wow! That didn’t work! I should stop here.” But. as I said, the light switch had been turned off. I remembered the eXacto knife I had recently purchased. I also realized that my replacement was due to arrive, and hopefully would stay out of my apartment until I was done. I literally behaved like a secret agent on assignment and slithered into the bathtub and pulled the shower curtain closed. I was determined not to leave a mess for someone to clean-up.

Now, doesn’t that sound healthy? Not wanting to leave a mess? I’m about to do the most selfish act a human being can do, leave people devastated and angry … destroy any chance to accomplish anything with my life and I’m worried about a MESS?!?!?

I’d read enough books and seen enough TV shows to know what I needed to do. Don’t worry, I’m not going to go into detail … if you want that, you can email and ask. Let’s just say, I ended up with three horizontal cuts in the side of my neck and very little blood. The most interesting moment was when my replacement’s boyfriend came in and used the toilet while I was ensconced in the bathtub. It was at that point I finally realized this was NOT working … and had run completely out of options. I very calmly made my way out of the bathtub ~ with my knees it was not an easy thing to do ~ and walked through the living room into the office and announced: “I’ve just tried to kill myself, please call 911.” I then went and sat calmly in the living room and awaited whoever was going to arrive.

I have no idea what she said to the 911 dispatcher, but shortly there were police, a fire truck and EMTs in the place. I was bandaged, tried to answer the many questions that were being asked by various uniformed folks. The one that sticks (sort of) in my mind was: “Do you have any sharp objects on your person that will hurt me if I touch you?”

–part three tomorrow night