Tragically True

You would never think it could happen to you. The thought wouldn’t even cross your mind because it’s so unfathomable.

You wake up, things a bit blurry at first. The room dim, yet gently lit by the hall lights. You realize you’re not at home, not in your bed. Someone reaches out to you. The face still masked by the haze in your eye. She says your name as your vision clears. Oh, “Mom?”

She has a warming, half smile on her face, with a glimmer of concern in her eye. “You’re awake! Hi punkin... how are you feeling?” she asks.

Slowly, you look around and realize you’re in the hospital... once again. It’s been a common occurrence since childhood. The first time being thirteen.

You try to think. Thoughts seem sluggish and fuzzy. The last thing you remember is making yourself a little pallet on your porch to comfortably fall asleep. You had been accidentally locked out of the house, but it was ok, you are a trooper and it would be like camping! You had used the cushions on the chairs to make a bed, and your thick coat as a blanket. Curled up with a smile on your face, ready for dreamland. So...... how did you get here? What happened?

A doctor walks into the room. “Hey there, good to see you’re awake. We need to go over some things. First thing, just so you know, (all super serious as if it’s gonna blow my freaking mind) it’s Thursday. You’ve been in a medically induced coma for three days.” HA! Perfect. As if y’all haven’t done that crap before.

The memory of what all was said and what happened next is so muddled now. Only key points stick out. The first one, “Did you take something?”

Immediately but slowly I reply in a somewhat slurred manner, “Yes.”

“What did you take?”

“My seizure medication."

“Do you know how many?”

“Yes. Four phenobarbital and seven lamictal. Exactly.”

“I see," the doctor said as he scribbled on his clipboard. “We’re concerned about you. This is the second time you’re in here for taking pills. I recommended last time for you to seek counseling. Actually, it was a requirement. Why didn’t you do that?”

“I did! I was seeing a Christian counselor for quite a while and things got better, so I stopped going.”

“Hhmmm. Ok, well get some more rest and we’ll talk more later.”

To be honest guys, it was more of a game of twenty questions, but I can’t remember most of them. My brain was so fried.

He left, and I looked down at my arms. I had IV's in both sides and even a port in my hand.

What in the actual fuck!? Are you kidding me!? Could they not find the freaking vein?? Obviously they did, because the port was still there! What are these bags next to me? Ok, that one is saline, but what else is in it? What did they give me?

This story is so long, it will probably take months to write.

Let me know if you would like the rest. You won’t believe the multiple twists. 😖😐🙄🤦‍♀️🤷‍♀️