That is it
Bullshit doesn't come from
It comes from you
Just let me be
Come closer instead
Breathe in my scent
Even though it
Doesn't smell of
The essence is still
None the less
Chris McQueeney 10/1/14
One year ago today I was strapped down to a table in St Vincent's hospital in Portland Oregon while they tried to save my life...I guess by that point I was in the ICU already, but I don't know, The day before I made the long journey from my home in Oregon City to the hospital via many buses and one max line, it took me seven hours to make it there and I was sober the whole time.
I say I was sober and I was, about fourteen days. But I had an ace up my sleeve. I knew that I would never be honest with the doctors if I was completely sober when I showed up so along with my antique knife collection and my rocks I had two twenty five ounce hi gravity beers to lube up the wind pipes. After seven hours of navigating the buses and all the people I was ready to be done, literally done. I wanted to end my life
It didnt matter that my birthday was to be the next day, the thought of it never entered my mind, I was just done with all the pain the craziness, all the worry about everything, and the fighting. Done! But, there was one very small part of my mind that knew that my thinking wasn't rational. It, that one small part, was screaming at me what about the children. What will they do without you. how will they remember you they are so young they need you. those screams are what brought me to the hospital in the first place.
When I got to the hospital I made a b-line straight to the bathroom to drink those beers I had. I didn't want to get too buzzed. I just wanted enough liquor in me to be honest, just the lid from my thoughts taken off so I cracked the Camo first and chugged. That shit is nasty so after about half of it I opened the other can, Steels Private Reserve, and started drinking it instead, much better!
I drank only half the beer I brought with me and dumped out the other half, Thus fortified I went to the front desk and told them why I was there. I told them I wanted to harm myself and that I was having trouble keeping things together. They checked me in to the ER and had me change into a paper gown that left your ass hanging to the wind.
At first a nurse asked me questions then a doctor took over. When I told the doc about the beer his whole demeanor changed, as if to say, oh, just another of those drunks overreacting…I got mad and stated that I wasn’t drunk and if they weren’t going to take me seriously I would go to another hospital…the nurse told me to stay that they were going to do a blood tox and see what my alcohol blood level was…Point zero seven three and falling, that was how little alcohol I had in my blood stream. With a blood alcohol level low enough to safely drive they changed their behavior slightly.
They admitted me to the psychiatric hospital on premises. They first had to place me in an isolated part of the hospital to be observed. They didn’t bother to medicate me or have me seen by a psychologist. They just left me alone to stew in all the crazy that brought me there. Eventually I slept only to wake to them bringing breakfast.
October eighteenth twenty thirteen, my birthday, and I had no idea…they left me alone and the crazy got worse. It reached a peak and not even thinking about it I picked the bulky wood and metal rolling table up and threw it across the room, about ten or fifteen feet, against the wall. One part of my brain that was not profoundly insane kept thinking that table was very heavy, that table was very heavy. Then I calmly got back up onto the bed and sat there Indian style with my hands on my legs. The nurse came in pretty quick and asked what happned…I didn’t answer because I really had no idea what she was talking about nor did I understand why she was so upset.
She had two security guards come to escort me somewhere (back to the ER) and I followed; the only thing I said to them was to keep their hands to themselves I would go willingly…one of the guards weighed about two twenty and the other was at least a three hundred pound black man. They escorted me to the crazy cell in the ER. Basically it was an empty room with a bed built into the floor all of one piece with strap holds so they could run straps to restrain unwilling patients.
After a while, not sure how long, a doctor came to see me…”Mr McQueeney it seems that this isn’t working for you, this being hospitalized thing. We are going to release you, you won’t be staying at this hospital.”
I started crying “Dr I can’t handle it anymore, if you make me leave I will walk in front of a car. I can’t handle it, can’t take it.”
He shrugged his shoulder slightly and grimaced a bit, turned and walked out.
After a while longer someone slid my shoes in the room. At first I ignored them because I thought what the fuck am I going to do with a pair of shoes. Then I noticed that they still had their laces in, and that struck me as something amiss so I stepped over and picked them up. There was something funny about at least one of them.
In one of the shoes was a bottle of pills. The same bottle all of my
Psych meds were in when I checked into the hospital. There I was psychotically delusional, in a hospital wearing nothing but a paper gown with a pair of shoes no socks and a bottle of pills in my hand. I thought either they wanted me to hang myself with the shoe strings or they wanted me to take the pills. So I started taking the pills.
Two by two I consumed over one hundred pills without water. I had the bottle in my left hand and would slip two pills out and covertly place them in my mouth to be dry swallowed with my right hand. Over and over I did this while being videotaped by the camera that was just over my head in the cell like room. Two types of pills I consumed were Olanzapine and Tegratol. I can’t remember what the third was but the fourth was Prilosec. Two by two I ate my life away, and they didn’t stop me.
After a while I started getting woozy and I figured that it was too late to save me. The nurse came in to check up on me. She was hot, a ten, and was actually nice to me. I felt guilty. I was dying and she was being nice, plus she was fucking smoking hot, so I told her I had eaten the pills. Then I passed out.
The next thing I remember was coming to with people all around me and freaking the fuck out…at one point there were seven people restraining me because I had undone all the restraints but one. I almost kicked that hot nurse in the face but she dodged it all matrix style…kinda amazing if I hadn’t seen it I wouldn’t believe how she did that.
They finally got all the restraints back on…
So that is how I spent my last birthday, almost dying, screaming for my family, being done with life, and being totally terrified. I remember that feeling so clear, the overwhelming need to have it all end, and the pain. Because it is painful, suicide, it hurts so much inside it is worse than any bodily pain…
Happy fucking birthday right…Right, looking back I got one of the best birthday present I have ever gotten. The doctors were able through testing to diagnose my actual condition. I have a condition called Toxic encephalopathy The recovery I was failing to get was due to that…having that diagnosis had lead me to start having a productive life…Through medication, sobriety and regular therapy I am having a chance at a productive life. I might have gone on longer with that overwhelming fear, terror, without having this happen.
So the day that almost ended my life has afforded me a life to live on with.
Chris McQueeney 10/18/14