From Death Do I Part by Amy Lee Coy

Author:Amy Lee Coy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: drug abuse, alcoholism, addiction, memoir, recovery, self help, selfhelp, alcoholic, substance abuse, aa alternative, recovery from depression, self recovery
Publisher: Amy Lee Coy

Chapter 18

Breakdown

“The deeper that sorrow carves into your being

the more joy you can contain.

Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup

that was burned in the potter’s oven?”

Kahlil Gibran

A few years ago I found myself lying in a bed in the emergency room of a hospital, held down by leather restraints on my arms and legs. Earlier that night I had taken some anti-anxiety medication prescribed by my doctor, along with a lot of wine and vodka. Even though I had been in a blackout, I had somehow managed to reach the suicide hotline, and they sent the paramedics, who then took me to the emergency room.

From the emergency room, with me still in restraints, they pushed my bed into a small room and stationed a uniformed policeman at the door. I cannot remember why they did that. I suppose I had done something bad to have a policeman guarding me, but I don’t remember what it was. All I remember is that when I came out of my blackout, I was in the hospital and not in my apartment or jail.

They made me drink charcoal that night to absorb the pills and alcohol in my stomach—which was, of course, disgusting. Even worse than that was when I had to use the bathroom. Since I had consumed massive amounts of alcohol that night, I had to go quite a lot. But because I was in restraints, I had to use a bedpan. That was not the worst part. Since my hands were tied up, I was forced to ask someone to bring me the bed pan—and take it away—every time I had to go. I don’t remember if I was more angry or more embarrassed about that, but I do remember feeling extremely bothered about having a policeman lingering around my door.

The next day when I woke up, I was in a different hospital room—one that I do not remember entering—and my restraints were gone. My head felt heavy, and I had no idea what I was doing there.

After a while, a handsome young doctor walked in and asked me if I remembered him. Mildly embarrassed, I shook my head no. He explained that he was the ER doctor from the night before. He said that I had called him some pretty nasty names.

Then I remembered the restraints they had put on me, and I thought to myself, “Well, that would make sense, me being nasty—putting me in restraints and all.” I did not even want to think about what I might have done that was the cause for the restraints. I could not remember much before 10:00 p.m. the previous night, and dreading to hear the horrible details, I could not bring myself to ask what had happened.

I told the doctor I was sorry I had been so rude to him. He was kind but brief in his response, and he quickly left the room. I sat on the bed for a while in my hospital gown, just sort of moaning to myself about what a horrible, hopeless wreck I was.

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