I have posted this to another Psych forum, please excuse my cross posting. To all who may be concerned, I do not even know if this is the correct forum for me to be petitioning, but please bear with me while I try to explain my situation. Approximately 6 weeks ago, I tried to commit suicide, twice. The first time I tried I locked myself in my car. I had a hose connected from the tailpipe into the rear window with a towel to seal the window. What I thought would happen was I would get dizzy and pass out, and then die, easy, or so I thought. It was the most horrible experience I've ever had. Not only did I not get dizzy and pass out, I had to struggle just to get air, all I was breathing was carbon monoxide with very little, or no oxygen at all and it was sloooowly killing me, but it was so painful to my lungs and it was taking soooooo long. I was breathing it all in at a very rapid pace because I think my lungs were trying to extract whatever oxygen there might have been, but still, it wouldn't do the job. After getting so frustrated that it wasn't working as planned, I opened my car door and sat there in the rain breathing in the fresh air. After a few minutes I was so upset I didn't kill myself as easily as I thought I could, I went back into my house, got into my bath tub, filled it with some nice and hot water. I brought a razor blade in the tub with me, figuring I would slash my wrists and kill myself that way. As I was looking for the pulse points on my wrists and trying to decide how I should do it I found two main veins or arteries, whichever it was, and when I found the pulse points, I was ready to slash my wrists, I had blade to wrist when into the bathroom walks my dearest friend Bob. Bob wasn't even supposed to be in our part of the country, I thought he was in Florida with his family, plus, he's NEVER come to my house before 9 AM in his life. (It was 7 AM when I was in the tub) He asks me what am I doing and I say, trying to kill myself. He immediately took me to our nearest emergency room. I don't have any insurance, can't afford it, but they took me in and immediately slapped a half a dozen different drug patches to my chest and I spent two days there, thankfully, in a complete fog. After that, I was transferred to a mental health facility in a different county that would give "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" a run for its money. It was essentially a repository for anyone that couldn't afford better care. Everyone there treating me were nice enough, but it was nightmarish for me. I was on a regimen of drugs that included Remeron, amongst a cocktail of other drugs.
Now to the part of why I wanted to die. I have been bothered over the years by several physical maladies, including tinnitus, 24/7/365, and a non-stop droning in my head that never goes away. I have had ear problems in the same ear since childhood, but have only had the tinnitus for the past 9-10 years, with it getting progressively worse over the years to the point of it drowning out normal speech from others. I always have to have people repeat what they said because the tinnitus would drown it out, very frustrating not only for me, but also for anyone trying to communicate with me. Besides the tinnitus, I have no teeth, which depressed me to no end, who takes anyone with no teeth seriously? When I was a youngster my mother took me to a doctor to see what could be done about my serious ear problems, I would get ear infections very easily as a child and I can even remember wanting to kill myself as a five year old because the pain was so intense. Later on, during the early 60's the doctor I went to see was giving me an experimental treatment which involved placing little tubes that were filled with radium on the end of long, steel Qtips that were inserted into my nose and then further into my nasal cavities. I had no idea what the treatment was all about, all I knew was he was trying to help me. I should have been very concerned at the time because after the radium Qtips were inserted, the doctor and nurse immediately went behind a lead curtain, I had no idea what was going on, but the treatments continued for at least a half dozen times. It was only later on in life that I found out that people receiving similar treatments were showing up with a laundry list of problems associated with the treatments, including losing teeth. That's what happened to me, I lost all my teeth over a very short period of time. Being as poor as I was, I could not afford to replace my own teeth, which helped accelerate my depression. Being toothless also lead to several other maladies such as stomach ulcers, diverticulitus(sp?) and I am sure there is major damage to my colon. Not only that, I had a deep vein thrombosis, DVT, that had to treated on an emergency room basis. The doctors said I was only days away from major problems including a stroke.
Now here's the kicker, being unable to get treatment for all my other problems, I began self-medicating myself with Opium, which was a very cheap alternative to medical insurance, and/or medical treatment. I would purchase the Opium pods, very cheaply, they were sold to florists as decorations for wreaths, or whatever, and I would crush the pods and brew an Opium tea. I continued using the tea for 3-4 years, and all my maladies disappeared into the background. I have never had substance abuse problems at anytime during my lifetime, except for moderate marijuana use. You know the rest, I became hopelessly addicted to the Opium tea, but that is NOT why I decided to kill myself, I am sure it was a contributing factor, but nowhere near the real reason, which was my laundry list of untreated physical problems, plus the fact that my business of raising cacti and succulents and selling them on eBay and several other outlets crashed, along with the economy, I could not even sell enough to pay my rent doing what I loved the most and my landlord was not having any of that, he wanted his rent. I thought killing myself was the most logical decision I've made in my life, boom, all my problems solved in one fell swoop.
For whoever is still with me, now comes the REAL nightmarish parts. Let me preface by saying that when I was in that mental health facility previously mentioned, there was a patient advocate that came by every day that would ask each of the patients there if they thought that they belonged there. The first few times she asked me if I thought I belonged there, I paid no attention to her because I was in such a fog of Opium withdrawal and prescribed medications. After a few days of her asking me everyday if I thought I belonged there, I thought about my mother, who has been institutionalized for over ten years for extreme bi polar depression, she has been through the whole gamut of different hospitals and multitudes of medications. She also had attempted suicide by slashing her wrists. The last time I spoke to my sister, she told me that soon after receiving treatment with Remeron, she's as normal as she has ever been. (I will not go into my problems with my mother, as this posting is extremely long as it is, sorry, but she made Joan Crawford seem like a angel) I did not want that to happen to me, so I told her I didn't think I belonged there. She brought me in front of a panel of people who ask me several questions, and through my heavily drugged fog, I won release, which now I think was the wrong decision, but my mother being hospitalized for over tens years was forefront in my mind at the time.
After being released from the facility, my friends immediately took me to my county mental health facility. It was just before Xmas, the place was nearly empty, except for a few employees. The original person that interviewed me told me that because of all my physical ailments I would need to see a person who facilitates hospitalization, but she was not there because she was on holiday vacation and was not due back until the following Monday, the 27th of December. I made an appointment, or I should say my friends made the appointment for I was not even able to communicate with anyone with any kind of clarity, I was still feeling withdrawal pangs from the Opium and other prescribed medicines given to me at that facility. They sent me home with a prescription for Celexa, which I understand is a more recent antidepressant. The appointment was made for the following Monday, when the person who could facilitate my hospitalization would be back. My friends brought me back that following Monday, but that person was still not back from her vacation. I was in such sad shape that I insisted on seeing someone that would help me. There were just a few people in the office, being holiday season; the only person who could see me was chosen to interview me. BIG MISTAKE, I should have waited because the person picked to interview me was obviously upset that he was chosen to listen to my sorry ass during the slow holiday week. When he first entered the interview room, he slammed his notebook down on the table and proclaimed, "Well, I can see that you were smart enough to gain release from the mental health facility, you can do anything now, right?" Not hi, how are you doing? Not how are you feeling? Not how can I help you? Now realize, I am with head in my hands and physically shaking and he repeated the same line, "It appears that you were smart enough to win release, you can do anything now, right?" He antagonized me from the first second he saw me. NOT ONE IOTA OF SYMPATHY, he was just plain old confrontational, antagonizing and condescending. He begrudgingly went through the process of taking my info for a Medi-cal application, which I have been denied before when I went to treat the deep vein thrombosis, for having a 1996 Ford Aerostar, a 14-year-old vehicle, but seeing this was a more serious situation, I thought the outcome would be different. I left that office feeling worse than I went in, and still needing to see the person to facilitate hospitalization. I tried calling the very next day, that person was still not there. I called everyday for the whole week, only to get her message machine, and left messages every time. I tried again the following week with the same results, she obviously took an extended holiday vacation, which is fine with me, but when I asked if anyone one else could help me, I was told no, she's the only liaison between the county and the hospitals. Wouldn't you think that there would be a mechanism in place in case such a situation should ever arise? Finally, after the beginning of the third week, she calls me and explains to me that before I could even see her, I needed to have a completed Medi-cal application, which I thought was in process because that was what I was told. She told me it was pending because I needed to bring in several papers including my bank statements, my Social Security card, and my current car registration. I was NOT told that by my original, antagonizing interviewer, I honestly thought it was being processed. This same person also told me that if I felt the need for immediate help, I could go to any of the satellite clinics around the county. Luckily, there was one such clinic in my town. When I walked in there pleading to speak to a therapist, I was told there was no one there that could help me, and was referred to another phone number of a similar clinic not too far away. That clinic also said there was no one there who could help me. Not one single person would even sit and talk with me, everyone just tried to shuttle me from one place to another, no one wanted to deal with me, granted, I am nearly 6’ 5” tall, 260 lbs and I think I scared them all when I was just standing there and shaking and pleading for help. Plus, I do not feel safe enough to drive myself anywhere further than my local supermarket, plus, while I was away, my car insurance was cancelled!
All this while I had been religiously taking the Celexa daily as prescribed. After about 3-4 days of taking the Celexa, I started having searing headaches. I passed it off to my body reacting to lingering withdrawal symptoms, but I was going to sleep with headaches and waking up with headaches. I cannot get a full night sleep anymore, I sleep in fits and starts, it is very debilitating not being able to get fitful sleep, I hate it! After 3 weeks of taking the Celexa and not getting any relief from any amount of aspirin I could cram down, I decided to stop taking the Celexa and the searing headaches slowly disappeared. All this while, all I could think of is my situation. My suicide attempts were acts of absolute finality, I honestly just did not want to be here anymore, I did not expect to be here anymore, but here I was, not only in the same situation as before, minus the Opium addiction, but still with all my maladies, and even worse than before because now I have absolutely no income! I sit in my bed all day long, not wanting to see or talk to ANYONE. I was so embarrassed at my failed suicide attempts that I don't want to have to explain anything to anyone about my situation.
I dropped anything that I used to love to do, I used to love cooking my own meals on my cast iron cookware, couldn't care less now. I used to bake bread 2-3 times a week, no more, I used to make my own delicious ice cream, not since I got back home. I was a grower of cacti and succulents with a worldwide reputation as a world-class grower, I won't even go into my greenhouse anymore, I have lost all interest. I used to raise my own organic vegetables for sale at a roadside stand to supplement my income, no longer.
I am on the verge of tears a lot, especially when I think of my 4 animals that all passed away within one years time, my two sweetheart Bulldogs, Waldo and Ruby, lived longer lives than most Bulldogs, 13 and 14 years old, I miss them so dearly, I well up every time I think of them. My two lifetime cats also passed away. Animals are a huge part of my life, and now that they are gone, there’s a huge hole. The only solace I have there is that they all lived long, loved lives. I well up anytime I think of my situation. I am right now just transcribing this.......
My house is becoming a huge mess as I have no desire to clean anything, I was a religious recycler, couldn't care less now. I have to force myself to take a shower and shave because I have to go out and get food, all instant kinda' stuff as I have no desire to cook anymore, so I eat a lot of frozen pizza and such. Whenever I do go outside, it is very SURREAL. Nothing is like it used to be. I am a great lover of nature, being able to name every tree and bush by their botanical and common names, but now everything seems too much for me to bear, even the grass below my feet scares me; the trees feel like the mean trees in the Wizard of Oz, everything feels like it is hovering over me. Everything is extremely bright and hurts my eyes.
I was becoming so depressed that I called the suicide prevention hotline, located at the same county facility where I was treated so rudely. Fortunately, I finally reached someone with a sympathetic ear, a very nice women who treated me very kindly. After I told her my situation, she connected me to someone else. It turned out to be the same person that was gone for two weeks while I was waiting for a call back about possible hospitalization. I implored to her that my situation was getting worse and I needed help as soon as possible. I told her I couldn't care less about all my physical ailments, I just needed to speak to a therapist at least. She reiterated to me that I cannot see anyone until my Medi-cal application was completed, which could take up to 45 DAYS!!!! I asked her what should I do until then? I could not believe what her response was, she told me to check into a homeless shelter! Is that something that you say to someone who is extremely depressed and suicidal?
I abruptly said thank you and hung up the phone. I immediately had a panic attack. Until then, suicide was not on my mind, but after I talked to her, it became front and center again. I feel totally helpless, and am having panic attacks more frequently. Thankfully, my friend left me some Clonazapam, which in a half hour mellows me out enough for me to function. That is the only way I am able to transcribe my story, I am on Clonazapam right now. I do not want to become dependent on it, but it is my only out right now. It also allows me to get at least 6-7 hours of restorative sleep, which is so important; sleeping in 2-hour fits and starts is brutal. Also, I am now having the most vivid, wildly imaginative dreams; some would call them nightmares because most of them depict anarchic, or apocalyptic situations, but for me, they are completely entertaining and I get upset when I wake up from an especially vivid dream. Another new symptom I have is every once in a while, I will feel something akin to an electrical pulse in my brain that is EXTREMELY pleasurable, one second I am depressed, then all of a sudden, ping…..a beautiful release from the depression, very euphoric, then a millisecond later, back to normal. It feels like synapse snaps, wow, if someone could bottle that feeling.
Will someone out there please tell me how I should handle myself, I feel totally abandoned, depressed and absolutely fearful of calling even the suicide hotline, seeing the last time I did, I was told to check into a homeless shelter. What can I do to help myself?
There is a whole lot more to this story that I am just too tired to relate right now, I apologize profusely for the extremely long length of this post, but I felt the more background there is, maybe I can get some answers. My huge thanks to anyone who sticks out this whole post, thanking you, I am........
Topic: Apologies for the extremely long post, but I am desperate..... (Read 596 times)
April 29, 2010, 01:48:26 AM
