Archive for July 8th, 2009

Now I know what it feels like.  At least to a degree? It’s fucking awful.  And thus, I repent.  Sincerely.

You see, I have called people during suicide attempts and what not to “say goodbye.”  In retrospect, even at the time you are quite obviously out of your mind, I have realized that these are not exactly pleasant things to hear when you pick up the receiver.

Today, a letter came in the mail from R. (whom I met during my last, recent hospital stay.)  It was, I suppose, “quasi-suicidal?” However, enough to get my attention when he wrote that he wanted me to have a number of his possessions! I was having tea outside so I sprinted back inside to grab my phone.  He had called me the evening before last but since I wasn’t up to par yesterday, I didn’t call back.  I thought I would today.

God, was I in a bloody panic! PA is very good in dealing with crises, she keeps a cool head and handles everything just fine but a letter? That is a crisis situation when you are not there! Thankfully, he picked up.  The reason for his call earlier was another seizure, bonk on the bean, terribly sick, back to hospital and now he needs a helmet all the time.  Well, if you need it; you need it.  How ironic, though, that I seized roughly around the time when he did as well?

We talked for a while but not before I finally (and quickly) read the letter he wrote me while in hospital.  I managed to get it from him right the minute just as the fucktards discharged me (i.e. the fucktards discharged me too early.)  I blogged all about the stay under my Category “Hospitalizations” if you missed it.  It was my seventh stay so that should guide you if you can’t figure out where to go or find the posts.

We talked about some other things, I made a joke about the helmet and said he might look pretty cool in it.  Like a “Wheelchair Racing Driver!”  Maybe “The Lance Armstrong of Wheelchair Drivers!” He did get a chuckle out of that so I felt a huge weight of relief off my shoulders there.

He’s deaf and we have to go through a special telephone operator.  They key in what I say so he can read it.  I saw the machine when J. and I went over to visit on the weekend.  When talking to him today, I got an idea.  It’s such a special service.  People really need it.  It’s so vital that those who do need it, should have it! I was wondering if it would be a job where I could find work.

However, our conversations haven’t exactly been “private” with the operator assisting! We’ve both been prattling on (or even ranting!) about being total mental loonies, having seizures, hospital stays.  Hell, we even mentioned certain doctors names and have been swearing about them and the damn hospital we were in! Have I have been recorded with my name and number documented? *laughing*

Oh, well.  More importantly, R. is okay.

And I repent again! For my last two hospital stays I have admitted myself so I think I know better now than to pull that shit that I did in the past.  Regardless, I don’t want to ever do that type of thing again.  I am so sorry to the folks who received those calls.  Maybe that’s why you are not in my life anymore.