Hey guys, so you didn't hear from me this week because I was in the hospital.
Last wednesday night I bought a bottle of rum, intending to chill out, get drunk and relax a bit. I stayed up all night and drank more and more over the whole night. The whole time I had mild suicidal thoughts, finding the idea of death funny and giggling about it. By thursday morning I was almost done with my bottle and my parents went to work. I finished my rum and then, in my drunkenness, became actively suicidal. I cannot say it was a conscious decision and I would have never ever done it or had the gall to do it if i were sober. I took 24 sleeping pills, and some of my bipolar mothers hardcore medicine. That is the rest I remember.
Next thing I know I am in a hospital, i can kinda see my mom and it is dark. I know I am in a hospital and I think that I have had my top surgery. I bring my hands to my chest and try to feel around but I dont feel any bandages. I become confused and have no idea what is going on.
I wake up a bit more and realize that I have a neck brace, and a bunch of tubes down my throat breathing for me. My mom is with me and I cannot talk or move my head. She gives me a notebook and turns out I can write, so I write her questions. I dont remember most of them, they were very loopy and she kept the notebook. most of the questions I asked her involved top surgery, the tube in my mouth, and dreams I was having, and my distress over the catheter.
I wake up a bit more and they are about to take the tubes out of my mouth. it was scary, the tubes were way down my throat. They pull them out and tell me to cough as they do so. it hurt. Then they ask me what my name is. I am worried because i dont think i would be able to speak. I try to say my name but nothing comes out, then I try again and it comes out in a whisper.
My mom talks to me some and she tells me what happened. She says that she came home from work 2 hours early, she found me foaming at the mouth, not breathing, at the bottom of the stairs with a TV on top of me with the cord tangled on my feet, with the living room littered with pills.
I had no recollection of that.
My dad flew down from TX to come see me, and it was kinda heartbreaking when he sat next to my bed and was almost crying when he said "I'm so glad you are ok Elijah" (yes he said elijah too)
my grandmother did not care what happened to me, when she was told she said she "didnt want to know about it" lets just say my mom called her and told her off.
I spent the next few days with a nurse in my room 24/7, it was awful, and I had a very uncomfortable catheter. I was very weak and it was hard to sit up, eventually I was able to walk around the halls leaning on a wheelchair.
All of the staff was very respectful, and they treated me as male, and my body as female.
5 days later I was released, but then I had to go to the mental hospital, which was not as bad as the hospital. I had my own room and a bit of privacy, but I was just ready to go home.
I just got home today and I am so happy to be back, I am also now heavily medicated with antidepressants.
My mom says that she thought she lost me twice, once when she found me not breathing, the second time when i was in the hospital and my brain waves and vitals all went crazy. I am so freaking amazed that i made it through this with no mental or physical injuries other then bruises. I guess if I were to tell anyone who is suicidal, well, once you actually get close to it, like, in inch from death you really realize how glad you are that it didn't happen.
