So, I found myself in the black pit of despair. No doubt, many of you will understand exactly what I mean by that. When you're just so blinkered and focussed on the singular task ahead, that there's simply no space to remember or consider those in our lives who actually do really care, nor pets, children, work or any manner of responsibilities that might have been scratching away in the back of your head and preventing you from going all the way.
I told nobody. NOBODY. I don't remember anything from the day, but apparently, I went to my parents house (which is about 10 miles away). They were on holiday, so I shouldn't have been disturbed.
When I got there, I sorted out her considerable stash of amitriptyline. **Note..I'd been dosing on metoclopramide since the night before. I had my Diazepam stash ready and a few bottles of spirits to wash them down with.
Took my Diazepam, shaved my head (no idea why... maybe It was a heaven's gate thing)...then on my knees in the middle of the living room, washed down several boxes of amitriptyline with a combination of Gin and wine. Sorry I can't elaborate on doses. It's been a while and I wasn't really in a fit state to care. It looked like plenty and took a good while to get them all down.
Don't remember passing out at all but as luck would have to have it, my uncle chose that day to come and water my parents plants.
But of a shock for him finding me not breathing and unresponsive on the floor. He said they zapped me at the scene, then he followed me to the hospital.
He tells it as though it's one of those medical reality shows (that I don't watch so have no clue what he's talking about), where everyone is waiting and they rush you in and it's all about "save this life".
That's it.
Woke up a few days later in the ICU to spit out my ventilator (you can't breathe independently with one in). There's someone whispering in my ear, asking me if I know where I am. I don't understand what's being said, but they say something about lots of pills and drink and my heart sinks.
I gradually regain consciousness during the ensuing days, but have zero motor function. Can't swallow, sit up, hold a cup...nada. Not only can I not speak but not can I comprehend a single thing being said to me.
I can't live like this!!!
But as the days pass, things start to slowly improve. In fact, enough for them to chuck me in a wheelchair and ferry me to the psych ward (Joy of joys).
I'm referred to cardiology (I guess that's amitriptyline for you, but they give me the green light). Slowly things improve to the point where I am able to tie a ligature around my neck.
Now, I've never been any good at this and did it more out of Interest than anything. After predictably failing, I moved the knot to the side until I could get it off. By sheer dumb luck, I only went and hit the sweet spot right away.
Next thing I know, I'm lying in a pool of my own urine with a nurse pounding my chest for all she's worth.
So 2 failures in quick succession.
There has to be a moral to this story somewhere.
I told nobody. NOBODY. I don't remember anything from the day, but apparently, I went to my parents house (which is about 10 miles away). They were on holiday, so I shouldn't have been disturbed.
When I got there, I sorted out her considerable stash of amitriptyline. **Note..I'd been dosing on metoclopramide since the night before. I had my Diazepam stash ready and a few bottles of spirits to wash them down with.
Took my Diazepam, shaved my head (no idea why... maybe It was a heaven's gate thing)...then on my knees in the middle of the living room, washed down several boxes of amitriptyline with a combination of Gin and wine. Sorry I can't elaborate on doses. It's been a while and I wasn't really in a fit state to care. It looked like plenty and took a good while to get them all down.
Don't remember passing out at all but as luck would have to have it, my uncle chose that day to come and water my parents plants.
But of a shock for him finding me not breathing and unresponsive on the floor. He said they zapped me at the scene, then he followed me to the hospital.
He tells it as though it's one of those medical reality shows (that I don't watch so have no clue what he's talking about), where everyone is waiting and they rush you in and it's all about "save this life".
That's it.
Woke up a few days later in the ICU to spit out my ventilator (you can't breathe independently with one in). There's someone whispering in my ear, asking me if I know where I am. I don't understand what's being said, but they say something about lots of pills and drink and my heart sinks.
I gradually regain consciousness during the ensuing days, but have zero motor function. Can't swallow, sit up, hold a cup...nada. Not only can I not speak but not can I comprehend a single thing being said to me.
I can't live like this!!!
But as the days pass, things start to slowly improve. In fact, enough for them to chuck me in a wheelchair and ferry me to the psych ward (Joy of joys).
I'm referred to cardiology (I guess that's amitriptyline for you, but they give me the green light). Slowly things improve to the point where I am able to tie a ligature around my neck.
Now, I've never been any good at this and did it more out of Interest than anything. After predictably failing, I moved the knot to the side until I could get it off. By sheer dumb luck, I only went and hit the sweet spot right away.
Next thing I know, I'm lying in a pool of my own urine with a nurse pounding my chest for all she's worth.
So 2 failures in quick succession.
There has to be a moral to this story somewhere.
