Two Saturdays ago, I got rushed to the hospital after taking way too much medication. Obviously, being found while still alive wasn't part of the plan. After I blacked out, I must have called my wife (to say goodbye? To call for help?) and her awareness that something was really wrong saved my life.
It's a fukking miracle that I'm am to write this two weeks later. I've been in intensive care for two weeks! You could get a horse head transplant and starter shorten your stay in the IC!
When my wife arrived,I was already being strapped in my EMS. Crisis averted, right? Well, then I started having seizures in the ambulance so they had to knock me out to, you know, not die or whatever.
Wheni arrived at the hospital, I was knocked with with a massive tube shoved down my throat, while everyone tried desperately to get my heart rate down. I took so many uppers my heart was about to burst out of my chest.
For the next 24 hours, I was in the state where I could die any second and my mom was halfway across the country wondering if I had died yet. How about now? Maybe now? For 24 hours.
They finally got my heart stable after a day but I was still tubed. For two more days. I don't know if you know a lot about humans, but they're not supposed to be locked up and knocked out indefinitely.
When I came to last Monday, the most bizarre sight I had ever seen. There was a crowd of faces (but I'm dead) but all I can see was my wife saying "You're safe'. I guess she had a loooooooong time to think what to say if I ever woke up again, huh.
The last 11 days have been equal parts terrible and chaotic. I had a lot of problems. A lot. I had boring problems life high and low pressure(?) and wonky sugar or whatever, but I learned about a whole lot of fun new ones. Like did you know a person can forget how to pee? Makes no sense to me but now I have a stick shoved down me dikkhole twice a day, and it hurts even more than it sounds like it would. Guess how I started today! Right on one!
My throat is sore (obviously,I have a tube down it for 3 days) but I have this giant, gnarly mushroom that no one knows what it is or how I got on my tongue. This sadistic surgeon yesterday dug the fukking thinking out of my head so now I can't eat or speak.
Have I mention this sucks?
I'm always surrounded. Always. Because I attempted suicide, they's a full time guard who watches every thing I do (even the dikk stick!), I can't get out of bed without an alarm sounding, and there's nothing to do but think. And that's a bad thing to do.
Did I mention I have a son and wife? I thought it was a good idea to kill myself with a 7-year-old son? Ok, will that's his life ruined! My friends? Neighbors? The fukking hundreds of people who reached out.
I used to hate when people said I had people to live for. Hafted it. They don't have to live my life, worry about yourself.
fukk that. My son drew me a picture of a broken heart. How's it going to feel when he finds out I noped out?
I must have had a good reason, right? This is the best part part. I was taking a Bart to SF to hang when I had bad diarrhea halfway. So I get off at Oakland, around looking for public restrooms, before finding relief. By then I was bored of walking so I just decided to head back.
And while reading, I really l randomly googled the toxicity of my prescriptions and two were really scary. I decided to kill myself when I got home on a whim!
Well, then my life must have sucked, right! Nope! My wife and I have been separated for 7 months. But I've built a life of my own, good job, my friends are cool.
I completely fukked up my life for no reason. Now my wife will surely leave me (and she should), I can't pee, and have half a tongue.
For a whim.
www.resetera.com
Reminds me of this 
maybe they weren't wrong for once