I, however, am not one of those people anymore. I led a great life while I was still able to. As my abilities lessened, I still made the best of it. But that was impossible to do after September 21, 2012. So I knew, as things just kept going downhill, and the pain and itches and sleeplessness got worse, that I'd be ending it soon. With no regrets. Except credit card debt. But I don't regret what I did/bought to get it.
So. Seriously. If I can take at LEAST 60 sleeping pills and at LEAST 15-20 Trazodone and not die, WTF does that mean?!?! I wifi printed out my letter to family and friends, typed where to find it on my iPod touch which I lay face up next to me, then took everything. I didn't hold the bottles and have second thoughts. I just said "God, if you exist, it's YOUR turn to take care of me now!" And swallowed them. With a handful of ibuprofen muscle relaxants.
And I fell asleep. I woke up very groggy the next morning, thinking "oh my god, no way" not "oh thank god, I'm still alive". I was shocked and actually mad, but clearly heard the lady from the Agency walking in, calling me. I couldn't/wouldn't respond and when she saw me, she freaked out and slapped me while calling 911.
I was in and out of it most of the time, but I remember transferring to the stretcher, arriving at the hospital, afraid I'd get my stomach pumped but just getting a quick hose in only my mouth (if they did more, I'm glad that's blocked out), my mom squeezing my hand, being transferred into this bed. I remember all of my immediate family and two caregivers being here. I remember being told I was being treated for a bladder infection and pneumonia (which apparently I'd had for days, but I take so many supplements and never get sick, that the obvious signs weren't there).
That night I slept like a ROCK.. My mom and stepdad were here for a lot of it, chatting and laughing with the guy in the next bed. And I slept through it all. The nurse took my vitals and everything. I may never sleep again, now that they've removed those pills from my list, but at least I had that.
The next day I remember well. My caregiver Christina came first, then my brother, then my friend Shawna, then my dad, then mom and Bob, then my caregiver Thalia, then my dad again. Everyone was, of course, very upset. But no one blamed me. No one called me stupid or selfish. They all understood why I tried, but they were "selfishly glad it didn't work". My doctor said I seemed in fine spirits, and is treating me for the infections, but will hand my care over to psychiatry as is his duty. I'll probably see a psych tomorrow. Oh, did I mention I have no voice? I've been using my iPad Notes to communicate with people. It does seem to be improving, but I figure I'm days away from speaking above a whisper. So I wrote the psych a letter, which I showed to my doctor, and he said it was "basically in line with what you told me, just neater and professional and all that. I encourage you to keep writing".
Maybe that's why. But I tell you, I did look for a sign telling me not to do it, in case I actually was making a wrong decision. But there wasn't one. I seriously saw more things and discussions about death and suicide than I expected. Even a tweet from Jim Carrey said "Heaven is always ready and waiting for you, wherever you are". Not that it was directed at me for that reason, but it was one of many signs that it was okay. And even though it didn't work, and I'm obviously a complete and total anomaly, at least I know the important people in my life understand why I might try again. Exactly when or how, I have NO CLUE. Pills were my way out! I'm afraid to do anything that will hurt and since nothing works on me like it supposed to (from surgeries to medicines to skin care, you name it) who knows?!?
And now my family and Thalia have all my passwords and PIN numbers to EVERYTHING!
You have a purpose and God still has you here. Maybe you should write about what life is like for you in a book for others to read. You have a gift of writing. This blog is just a beginning.
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