Deviancy!

Hey, feel free to pop over to http://creativewriter92.deviantart.com/ where I have a lot more content. Photographs, drawings, poems. Hope you enjoy xx



Sunday 30 October 2011

The Story Part 3

So I finally got to return home. Battered and bruised, covered in holes and feeling terrible ... but alive

I took it easy for the next few days. I remember pulling up into my street in the mid afternoon, thinking “I hope no one realises I’m home yet”. The police had told me they had gone knocking on doors asking when people had last seen and talked to me ect, so I knew that there would be a lot of hype about me.

Good or bad, I didn’t know.

Luckily no once was outside nor came over. My friend and neighbour asked about me to my mum but I told her that I wasn’t ready for visitors and I would come over to see her soon.

We went out that night to blockbusters and rented a few DVD’s and stayed in as a family. We bonded and just relaxed together.

This was pretty much how the next week went for me. My mum had taken the week off work to be with me. I think she felt slightly offended by my actions and perhaps guilty, but she definitely wanted to keep an eye on me.

We cleaned her car, we went shopping, we stayed in and relaxed. She was nice and respected my decision when I asked to be left alone on Friday and Saturday. I had had so much ‘family time’ in the last week, it was a kind of too much to handle in one go, so I just wanted to be alone for a while.

I needed to process everything that had happened and that would happen from now on. And that’s what I did.

On Sunday (the day I returned home) two of my best friends came banging on my door late at night. They had seen my post and fb messages from people and had immediately rushed to my house to find out if I was ok but we were out getting some films to watch that night. Fearing the worst they then raced to the hospital to find out I had been discharged and were seriously contemplating breaking into my house to see if I was fine.

Fortunately, we were home by now and they were relieved I was alive but angry at me for what I had done.

Understandable.

Anyway, we stayed talking in the kitchen and catching up about everything for a lot of the night, before they left for food and I went to spend some time with my family.

It was really heart warming to find out that so many people cared about me to that extent, and were literally in tears when they saw I was alive and well.

I got placed on anti-depressants as soon as I was discharged and now that I am in uni I have had regular doctor’s appointments. They have recently doubled my dosage because it isn’t taking effect as fast as they would like. I have another appointment tomorrow, to see if they need to increase it again or start a new drug.

 ...

Oh and about that “battered and bruised” comment ... I don’t have a fear of needles, but they can do some serious damage to a person!

In my two days in hospital they took countless blood samples from different veins (apparently I have good veins to take blood from, but they collapse easily) as well as having to have 6 injections to take blood from my arteries.

Now if you don’t know what this entails, it is about a 5 inch long needle that they have to inject into your wrist and jiggle it about to find the artery, then they take a vile of blood and you are left with a mountain on your wrist. No exaggeration!

It is an extremely painful, slow and uncomfortable process, and just to show you how difficult it is ... they injected me 6 times ... and only got 2 blood samples!

This was the end result ...


All the best, and thank every one of you who has been there for me, i really do appreciate it x
Jack xx

Saturday 29 October 2011

The Story Part 2

The aspirin was taking effect ...

I tried to ignore it. I tried to do anything to distract myself from what was happening to me. But sleep didn’t come, distractions failed, and all the while my pulse was creeping up.

I didn’t know what to do.

I began to think logically. I have had panic attacks before and they were not this bad, this was not my heart pumping because of nerves or excitement, this was drug induced.

So I thought quicker now, how could I get to a hospital without my family knowing what had happened. I mean, not only am I 18 so it is my medical information to give to whom I choose but also my family would probably just assume I was in bed or out for the day and I could be home before they worried too much.

The problem was getting there...

I could call an ambulance. They could take me directly there, treat me on the way and I would be there soon. But it’s hardly discrete and my sister was in the other room.

I could go to my friend’s house. He knew about my problems and I had helped him out previously with the same problem, just not quite as far down ‘that road’. He had recently learnt how to drive and could take me there and would support me, but I don’t know him that well and by now it was about 6am and he would be in bed.

That left my sister. We are really close and I know I could trust her with some stuff, but could I trust her with this? Could I trust her not to tell others about my most intimate problems?

Time was running out. I was panicking. I was scared ... I was frozen.

I decided that I had to act now and the best option would be to talk to Ariel. We were alone in the house and she could tell me if I was over reacting. I just had to suck it up and be honest with her.

I walked into her room, woke her up and sat on the other bed. I proceeded to tell her that I had done ‘something stupid’ and gave her a brief outline of what I had done and why. I don’t think she quite understood it but she knew what to do and got dressed.

We left. With only a minor scolding. I was am grateful for this, but there was an air of tension.

She took me to the walk in centre thinking that they would be able to treat me and it saved us a longer journey to Hospital, but when we got there, it was deserted.

Not a soul in sight. The only other person was someone who was raising the exit bar for cars to enter and leave. He told us that the walk in centre was only open from 9am on a Saturday, which we both thought was stupid as Friday night/Saturday morning would be the busiest time for accidents, but we kept quiet and left for the Hospital.

By now I was calmer and re-thinking this whole trip, but I knew that I still had a LOT of aspirin still in my system that had to be treated, so we powered on.

It was a relatively short journey; I told Ariel about why I have been feeling this way and for how long and she shared with me that she has felt that way before and she tried her best to empathise with me, which really helped me. It made us closer I think. I know that I can go to her about anything.

We pulled up and signed in. I hated how awkward it was, having to give the details and admit that it was not an accident, but I knew I had to do it. And I had to overcome my problem with doctors before the day was through.

We had a long wait before we could be seen, during which I was being sick frequently. It was a good sign but still uncomfortable and made time tick slower. Eventually we were seen by a nurse where I gave my details and she took my blood pressure and some samples to be tested.

Then more waiting.

About an hour later I was seen to get my heart rate measured. It had calmed down a lot more now, either due to the shock of telling my family, being in this situation or the sheer amount I had been sick whist here, I don’t know, but it was slower.

The marks on my arm were hard to hide from Ariel but she either didn’t notice them or she didn’t mention them which was a relief.

More waiting.

I then found out that the aspirin levels in my system were still quite high so I would have to be monitored for a while and I might have to be kept in for observation overnight.

Oh joy :/

They also gave me some anti-nausea medication which ironically made me feel like I was going to be sick constantly which I hated.

Whist we waited on a bed in another room, I talked to Ariel about how I didn’t want to tell mum and dad about what had happened. They didn’t have to know. She agreed but told me that she had to tell Ursula about all of this so she went outside for a drink and to move her car.

In the mean time a police officer came over to me and asked if I was Jack. I nodded. She told me that they had been told about my intentions and had come to my house and found my note (I had inadvertently left rather than thrown away). She told me that they were very worried about where I was but were glad they had found me as soon as they did.

She also told me that my parents had been told where I was and what had happened.

I died a little inside.

My parents, who had been so kind and caring to me, now found out I had this huge dark cloud following me around and there was no going back. Things would never be the same.

A short while later they came rushing in. A look of concern and worry on my dads face, and my mum crying.

I hated myself for having to put them through this...

We had a chat about everything and I retold my story to them and everything, with frequent pauses of awkward silences and hugs to reassure them I was ok.

About an hour later I was told that my bed was ready and that I would have to be kept in overnight and maybe longer, depending on if and how quickly my aspirin levels came down.

So I was escorted to my bed in the temporary ward which was fun.

Not

I was literally the only one in there that was not over 50. But I didn’t mind, I had my family to keep me company and otherwise I just wanted to be left alone.

Of course I didn’t tell them this, and I was grateful to have them all with me, but I think they needed to be with me, more than I needed to be with them, so I stayed quiet.

I met the staff on the ward who were nice, and I met the lovely junior doctor (who reminded me a lot of my old Assistant Teacher which was strangely comforting) and had more blood samples taken.

My family went off to pick up my sister, get some food and so forth and came back to keep me company. Only leaving one at a time so I was never alone.  At this point I was quite tired but I didn’t want to sleep. I didn’t want my family to just be there crying silently as I was oblivious, and I didn’t completely trust myself to sleep with this amount of fatal drugs in my system.

Ariel later came back with a change of clothes and a book for me to read for when I got bored which was nice and refreshing. This was how I spent the remainder of my day.

I was later escorted to another ward that night as everyone else had been discharged and they were changing it to a woman’s ward (slightly sexist I thought but oh well).

There were a few younger people but they were all still pretty old. I spent the remainder of the night reading on my own until it got quite late and I felt guilty for having my light on when others were trying to sleep so I settled in for a restless night.

But I was by far the best patient in the ward I think haha. One guy kept yelling, I couldn’t tell why but the nurses didn’t react so it couldn’t have been important. The guy next to me had his heart monitor on all night and I couldn’t help but think “this sounds like a super Mario game soundtrack” ... it really did!

I woke up the next day and took my pills, talked to the psychiatrist ... finally! They have this weird rule about they have to make sure that I am medically well before I can talk to the physiatrist before they can discharge me. But oh well.

She was a nice lady who just got as many details of my story as could give ... which is why I am posting this here. So I never have to repeat this story again.

Eventually I was told I was allowed to leave, but there was a major accident so all of the doctors were too busy to finish my discharge letter. So about an hour after being told I could be discharged and we were literally just waiting for the letter, we were told we could leave and they would post the letter to us.

They were really quite friendly and apologetic about everything but it was a tad frustrating because the discharge letter was literally just everything we had been told already.

So I finally got to return home. Battered and bruised, covered in holes and feeling terrible ... but alive

Saturday 15 October 2011

One Year On ...

Hes not some guy!!!

The Lamp-post


R.I.P.