Everything got too much

For some reason in this post I feel like writing ‘dear diary’. But in all seriousness I’ve had a rough week and am going to share it with you all in my bloggasphere.

This time last week I had just come out of hospital after a pretty traumatic admission.
Last Sunday it all finally hit, it all got too much. I felt let down, used and angry. Before I knew it I was sitting on my bed downing sedatives and vodka and crying my heart out to my friend over Facebook. It was so impulsive to take that medication and alcohol but I did and I was upset and I just didn’t care. But it didn’t go how I expected.

I started to feel really bad and then I couldn’t use my hands properly, then I couldn’t see properly and couldn’t walk and I was so scared. I tried to phone an ambulance, but I couldn’t see or use my hands properly.

Luckily my friend worked out something was wrong, because if she hadn’t and hadn’t phoned an ambulance I might have died.
I started to be sick and realised I needed to get out of the house, so I got up with my phone in my hand, but I couldn’t grip so it flew across the room. I got towards my doorway and fell down and couldn’t get back up. I was clawing at the door trying to reach the handle to open it, but I couldn’t reach and realised it was locked and then I lost consciousness in front of my door.

I woke up to people kicking the door, while I was on the other side crying for help the best I could. Begging them to help me, because I was so scared, but they couldn’t get in.
Next thing I remember is someone coming in threw my bedroom window and slipping into unconscious.

I briefly remember being conscious, for maybe even seconds and not being able to control my limbs, I couldn’t stop my arms and legs jolting. I was surrounded by people and someone shouted she’s epileptic and I was gone.

I woke up in the middle of the night in an empty looking ward with a nurse next to me, asking if I was okay. I assumed it was the same night and was so tiered I didn’t even realise what was going on. I suddenly realised my face was covered with a mask to help me breath and I was connected to dozens of wires and tubes. I then realised I needed the toilet, so asked the nurse, although I could hardly talk and was told I had a catheter in. I was just so confused and out of it, I had a catheter, all these needles in me, bandaged hand, all my clothes were gone and I didn’t know when this happened or why I didn’t feel it all happening.

I spent the next 24 hours slipping in and out still, still attached to all these machines and needing oxygen, still confused, but too sedated to care.
In the evening my support workers came to see me, and it was nice not to be completely alone, but how they spoke confused me. So I finally asked ‘what day is it?’ and couldn’t believe it when I was told it was Tuesday. What on earth had happened to Monday?!

I was still so tiered and sedated, I found it hard to move, and still totally confused. And I began to be told what had happened..
I had been so ill they’d induced me into a coma and incubated (a tube down my throat to help me breath) and I had been taken to intensive care, having all the needles, tubes etc put in me while I was sleep so that I didn’t notice it at all. They had tried to wake me up the day before whilst the breathing tube was still in, by stroking my eye lashes and talking to me and my cpn was there too, but they hadn’t managed to wake me up.

I spent the next night in the high dependency ward still on oxygen and all these machines, but just slept through most of that too. Once I was feeling better and partly down to my insistence I was able to go home.

I was helped home by support workers again and had to get the bus home with them in their charity tshirt, hospital pyjama bottoms and shoes, so I looked pretty strange.
I got home and they helped clean up a bit and got a bit of food and then told me to get some rest, although I didn’t need to be told that! I could now walk but I still felt unsteady and sleepy, so within half an hour I was asleep again, in front of the TV.

This only begins to describe the total horror of it. When people tell you it’s not a nice way to die they are totally right.

To any of you reading this, who like me might go to do this impulsively. Please don’t do it. Just talk to someone, do anything, because it’s petrifying and you can’t change your mind once it’s done.
Don’t make the same mistake I did, because I would never want anyone else to experience it.


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