5.28.2010
Two weeks ago tonight, I forfeited one of the most precious games a person ever plays: life. With every intention of success, I threw in my hat. Lead by excessively logical and emotional thoughts, I took action. Drastically. Wisdom did not befall me that particular hour.
Something far greater did.
I marched from my office, downtown, to the woods near our place. I watched a black bird pull the guts from a dead squirrel’s stomach by the road. I walked close to men at the bus stop. Their advances didn’t break my stare. I shopped for rope as I walked. I saw lots of garden hoses and extension cords. I climbed the secret road to our place. The “Dead End” sign never looked so profoundly large and loud. I examined the trees as I trod the path that circled the mesa below our apartment. I spent nearly an hour fighting with God and myself as I tried to hang myself. Each time I was about to go black I jerked and pulled myself up by the limb that was to seal my death.
Unsuccessful, drained and in a haze of fatigue I plodded barefoot from the woods to our apartment. The afternoon was dreary. My mind was flooded with fog. The clouds behind my eyes were thicker than usual. I cried at the thought of leaving Erika and Jack. I kept marching. I started guzzling tequila. I knelt by our bed and scratched down my final words to my Love. I signed it, “All I had,”. I poured all the pills I could find into the largest bottle. My movements were methodical. I was numb. Done. I tied a dog leash to the handrail in the shower. I turned the shower on. I dumped the pills into my mouth and washed them down with tequila. I did it again. And again. I placed the rope around my neck. The last thing I remember was Porter sticking his nose under the shower curtain to check on me.
Everything went black.
The ventilator was breathing for me when most of our friends came to visit me. My oxygen saturation was 60%. My core temperature was 88 degrees. My blood alcohol was 2.18. I remember nothing of those hours in the bathroom floor, ambulance, ED, and ICU. But, thank you to the ones who came. Both in body and spirit.
Those who spoke to me. Cried for me. Clung to me. Thought of me.
By every factual measure, I should not be here. By every medical measure, if I was to miraculously be here, I should be vegetative at best. By other measures (the specifics I haven’t determined), I am here.
Alive.
Part of the suffocation that lead up to this crux was also what saved my life. As most know, Erika finishes nursing school next month. Her CPR skills were golden. She bruised my breast bone without breaking one rib. I cannot fully grasp what she did or how she has stood by me. She fought unabashedly for me when I gave up on myself. She has been my rock when all around me was waves and sand, ever-moving my stance.
Two weeks of medical doctors, nurses, behavior health advocates, clinicians, psychiatrists, sitters, therapists, counselors, family, friends, colleagues, and people going through their own journeys got me to today. As is my tendency, I’ll be honest, today is very hard in spite of the buffer of time between then and now.
The first doctor that spoke to me once I was conscious made a statement that has embodied the past couple of weeks. He said, “…you’ve tripped a wire. Now you have to walk it out.”
So, I’m walking – a safety net of support around me. My steps, wobbly to say the least.
My physical body is nearly without a scratch. My mental self is messier than before – be that possible. I’m somewhat bent against the system that’s supposed to cure me. Trapped in a cyclical rotation of thinking, feeling, and acting has proven a tougher exercise than bicep curls or VO2 intervals. I’m amazed at how trying a mental illness is on everyone connected to it. I’m coming to terms with what I’ve become. Who I am. I’ve dealt with this for years and a mutation of it over the last six months. It seems ridiculous to consider myself sick when all my limbs move freely and blood pressure’s athlete-low.
Erika was by my hospital bed when I awoke. My wrists were restrained by my sides. I counted four IVs plunged into my arms. My neck was in a brace. There was a tube down my nose and another down my throat. There were machines blinking and beeping over my right shoulder. A blood pressure cuff clinched my arm every couple of minutes. Circulating devices were compressing my legs. They felt like restraints too. It didn’t matter because I couldn’t move them. One of my initial thoughts was, “am I paralyzed?”.
I could only move my hands and arms, but not past my elbows.
She clutched my hand. I squeezed back. I traced “I love you” in her palm with my finger. She said she loved me too. I traced, “I’m sorry.” She said she knew. The next message took a couple of tries for her to understand. “I want…” She came to the other side of my bed and I tried with the other hand. “I wanted…” She switched sides again.
I coughed and gagged against the tube in my throat. I traced again, “I wanted to die.”
She smiled softly as tears streamed down both our faces. “I know, Baby, I know.”
For those who have never struggled with psychological disorders it makes little sense why anyone, especially a twenty-eight year old woman with many things going for her and so many people who love her, would ever contemplate ending IT ALL. I realize that many people are still asking why. Truthfully, I don’t have a good answer. I gave up. Overwhelmed and out of coping skills, I gave up. Completely. I honestly thought things would be better with me out of the picture.
Distorted, I know, but real at the time.
Nothing more profound has ever happened to me than to wake up to a blur of lights and doctors over me. I was looking up when I had expected to be looking down. Watching on.
***
Fast forward to today.
For the first time in two weeks I’m in front of a computer trying to put into words what has occurred. Usually not a difficult task for this girl. Today’s a bit different. Okay, very different. I genuinely feel as though I am fourteen days into the next life. Surreal and extremely perplexing.
Currently, I’m in a partial hospitalization program at a psych hospital. I’ve nearly been readmitted to the in-patient psych-ward the past three days in a row. I’m having trouble functioning in society. Frighteningly, I fit into insane asylums faaar better than I want to admit. I have lots of new friends. Exceptionally, interesting friends. But, those are not words of judgement.
It will be another two or three weeks before I’m cleared by the doctors to resume full-fledged life as I knew it. In many regards I’ll never resume life as I knew it. This has altered the way I look at virtually everything. When I was first released from the ward it was like returning from international travels. My eyes were captive by the oddities that used to be familiarities.
I have much to say, but I’ll cease for now. It appears there are a lot of years ahead to express all.
Hello, I’m Sarah, I’m alive and getting the help I need. Thanks to everyone who has sent their love.
Mindbanter 
Tracing I Love You
Its been months since I’ve told this story but the other day I had to re-hash it during therapy. Yep, I’m back in therapy, many would say it has been way too long.
May 14th
This day has entered my memory bank and will forever be there, not to much can erase this day however we (I) have an idea, but that’s another story for another day.
The day didn’t start off very well. I spent the morning crying in the shower trying to figure out what was wrong with my love, Sarah. She had been ‘off’ for approximately 4 months and only seemed to be getting worse. I met up with a couple friends that day discussing the changes I’ve been witnessing. I walked away with confidence in myself, our relationship and Sarah.
The 9th Floor
I was in such anticipation as I watched the elevator tick upward to the 9th floor of the downtown tower. I couldn’t wait to see her, have her see my face glowing with resolution. I rounded the halls lined with cubicles and offices to her small (smallest of all financial reps but coolest) hip, chic office. To my surprise, she wasn’t there so I ventured around the office asking if anyone has seen her or if they know where she is. I continued to get, “no.”
I stopped by her colleagues office to see her calendar as she may be out to coffee with a potential client, her calendar was blank. The lines drew hard between my eyes with confusion. I walked back to her office to see if her purse and wallet had gone with her, both were behind her desk. Worry began to overcome me. I marched back to her colleague and explained what I had found and asked him to send her a text, 10 minutes passed, nothing.
I sent her a message on our blackberry messenger and waited for delivery, nothing. I couldn’t get to my car fast enough as I was stricken by worry. I drove home and opened our garage to count our bikes, 1, 2, 3…7, all were there. A few day before Sarah had told me she wasn’t safe when I asked, she told me she wanted to ride up into the mountains and hang herself. Little did I know she was very serious. Let it be known, if anyone says these words to you in any manner that indicates suicide take them to a facility. I did not. I am disappointed that I did not react to her words.
I headed to Christy’s house as I didn’t know what to do. Sarah’s blackberry message still hadn’t been received. I arrived at Christy’s and she instantly asked me, “what’s wrong?” I had it written all over my face. I explained what I had been doing the past hour and her response was, “did you check the house?”, I replied, “no, I only opened the garage and counted the bikes.”
The Shower
We walked into the house and my face was blasted with humid shower air, relief entered my body. I told Christy, “it’s okay, she’s home, she’s in the shower”, she asked which shower so we headed to our bedroom.
As the bathroom door opened my first glance were feet dangling outside of our red shower curtain. I rushed in and pulled the curtain aside. She was lying there completely still as the cold shower glanced off her body. Adrenaline kicked in. Christy said, “Erika call 911!” I said, “no, you!” I jerked her limp body out of the shower so fast, which was a mistake, unbeknownst to me she had tried to hang herself, but that was an after thought. I screamed her name so many times with no response. Tears streamed my face. I grabbed her wrist to feel for a radial pulse, her skin was so cold, nothing. Reached for the carotid artery, nothing. I put my ear to her mouth for a breath, nothing. I rolled my hand over, again to feel for a breath, Nothing. I try the carotid again, YES, there’s a pulse, but very faint.
Christy was on the phone with the 911 operator repeating every thing I was saying. Christy yells, “Erika start CPR!”, I reply, “I can’t.” ” You’re a nurse, yes you can”, she states. I began CPR. After the first 5 compressions, tears streaming down my face, I say, “I can’t believe she’s letting me do this to her.” I give the first breath, her chest inflates and her breath gives back, “I think, she’s breathing”, I say. I flip my hand over to feel on sensitive skin, YES, but again faintly.
Now, everything in the books say, pulse and respirations do not do CPR. I wasn’t about to take a chance. I did CPR until the paramedics arrived.
The Waiting Room
Boy oh boy, if your loved one is ever behind those steel doors and you haven’t heard a word from a doctor it is such a revolting feeling. A chaplain walks out and looks me straight in my eyes, my heart sinks, no, no, no I thought, but she rounds the corner. I think my heart actually missed a beat.
Finally, the security officer led me back to her room. I walked in and she was intubated, shit, shit, shit, this is not good, ran through my head. I immediately went to her ear and told her how much I loved her, a tear rolled down her face and her pulse went up. I asked the nurse if this is possible she heard and understood me, he said that he didn’t think so. Whatever, I thought. She was so cold. I listened to him give me the run down of her being intubated, catheterized, lavaged, and her body temperature. I pretended I didn’t know what he was talking about, but I knew all to well.
I stayed with her until they transferred her.
ICU
Waiting and friends arriving with prayers, worry, condolences and love is what happened in the ICU that night. Sarah’s night nurse absolutely acknowledged us as partners, she told me to go home and rest as she’s on duty. I slept probably 3 hours. Adrenaline was still piercing through my veins.
I arrive the next morning around 6:30am. I was told they were going to try to wake her. The night nurse let me back during shift change which is usually against the rules. The day nurse gave me evils, I should have known then.
Sarah’s eyes were open. I walk in and she tries to talk, but nothing comes out only alarm bells from the intubation machine. I tell her don’t talk, both our eyes fill with huge crocodile tears. She waves for my hand, she traces each letter, I-L-O-V-E-U, I cried harder. I-M-S-O-R-R-Y, I said, “I know baby.” I-W-A-N-T-E-D-T-O-D-I-E, “I know baby, it’s okay.” I said.
I stayed with her until she was transferred to the Medical-Surgical floor, at this point she was stable, physically healthy and ALIVE!
Most of you know the journey beyond the hospital walls as Sarah has kept you up to date. I hope this helps fill in some the gaps, sorry it has taken me so long to write this. Sarah, no matter what, I love you.
I’ve also posted it on my blog http://www.earnotes.blogspot.com
I was volunteering at VOODOO FIRE. I’mm sorry I didn’t meet you. Your story is well-written and will surely inspire others to move beyond their moments of deep despair. The Supreme Being was truly keeping you in the palm of His hand, knowing that your purpose on this earth was not yet fulfilled. My son, Thane, tells me you are a talented marketing person and an awesome human being. Connie Morgan
Connie, thank you! We did meet briefly. I believe I distracted you form serving salad while you told me about some of the first bike races Thane ever organized. And how they keep growing. I’m very excited to be here and be a part of more bike races. I look forward to seeing you at them!