After the major self harming incident, Lyn took it upon herself to protect me. She took my medication and handed it out as and when, she took and hid anything sharp she could possibly think of, including razors, knives, scissors… you name it, she took it. It meant a lot to me that she wanted to protect me although I couldn’t see it at the time, all I wanted to do was cut, and I didn’t care who got hurt in the process.
As the days went by, my attempts at harming grew more and more desperate. One evening I managed to find some spare tramadol in the back of a cupboard, so discreetly saved up my medication throughout the day and took it all at once in the evening. Despite my desire to end my life, I clearly didn’t want to, as as soon as I had done it I went downstairs and gave Lyn the empty packet, who promptly called an ambulance.
Despite there not being any obvious ill effects from my minor overdose, I was taken in an ambulance to the hospital as a precaution. It was clear that the ambulance men though I was wasting their time, it was clear in the way they spoke to me. When we arrived at the hospital they frogmarched me into A&E and made me stand at the desk. I felt like I had been hit by a bus, but I could understand their contempt – I WAS a waste of time and space. Lyn had given one of the ambulance men the rest of my medicated sealed in a plastic bag, and while we were waiting at the desk, he had left in infront of me. For a split second I saw my chance, and took it. In one swift movement I reached out and grabbed the bag, and hid it under the blanket I had wrapped around myself. I figured I was halfway there already, I might as well finish the job, and that I had been restricted on any medication for so long it was good to get a chance to finish the job.
I asked if I could go to the toilet, to which he agreed, and once in there I started desperately removing the pills from their foil wraps and swallowing them down. I managed to take an entire packet of Quetiapine (50mg x 60 tablets) in the time it took him to realise what I had done, and come banging on the bathroom door. As I walked out he told me he would lose his job over this, but I didn’t have anything to say to him. What could I say? Yes I was selfish, but I wanted to die, and him losing his job wasn’t going to stop me.
As soon as I lay down in the bed in the cubicle, I started to feel the effects of the new pills. I was soon drifting in and out of a haze, and noticed several people visiting the side of my bed. It was so vivid, to this day I still swear they were real, but they clearly weren’t, as this was my first experience of hallucinations. A few hours later, I noticed a figure sat in the seat next to me. Catherine, a dear friend of mine, and possibly more ill than I have ever been, had found out I had taken an overdose and had come to sit with me. Lucky for me, I should say as around 3am a nurse came into my cubicle, picked me up by my arms (I was still in and out of the drug induced haze) and forced me to sit upright. He told me I was being discharged and I had to leave. Thinking back, I should have questioned why I was being discharged when I couldn’t even sit up, but there was obviously a lot of bad feeling surrounding me that night. I am not excusing the actions of the NHS, yes it was negligence, especially when my father came to find me the next morning to be told I had discharged myself, resulting in him panicking and searching for me all over the hospital, when in fact Catherine had called her mother who had come and picked me up.
These were the bruises from being pulled up and out of bed (I had this on both arms);