Really. I despise every aspect of it and almost always did. As much as I love my Mom, we NEVER got store-bought costumes like the other kids did..we "made" our own costumes and they usually looked exactly like a little kid made them. I've been trying to get in here for a couple of days to write about my pretty eventful week, but have been so out-of-sorts that I just couldn't do it.
On Tuesday night, I took my usual cocktail of medications, but instead of going to sleep, I wandered around the house stumbling, slurring, and, eventually, saying I was going to go meet up with a friend, J, who knew nothing of this "plan" I had. I briefly fell back on the bed, as Frank tells it, and he noticed my breathing was really, really off. He immediately called 911. I don't remember a thing until I woke up in ICU Thursday morning -- having no idea where I was or how I got there. Frank said that the doctors told him that it was touch and go with me as tried to get the meds out of my system (and these were all legitimate meds, not some handful of something bought off of someone). I had my stomach pumped, and was ventilated. I have bruises all over my arms and on my chest, where they pounded my heart to get it going. My shirt was cut off of me, as was my bra.
I can tell you, in all honesty, that this was not a suicide attempt or even a "cry for help" that people so often hear about. It was a combination of Zyprexa (my new med), Tramadol, and Klonopin.
To top it all off, I spent most of Friday morning at the VA walk-in b/c I threw my back out. I'm off to an orthopedist on Monday morning.
I don't know if there's much more I can say. I've never been so terrified and horrified in my entire life...and so greatful that what could've happened, didn't.
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