May 27, 1994
"Know not if it's dark outside or light."
Elton John/Bernie Taupin - Mona Lisas And Mad Hatters
I am beginning this entry at 6:30am. I am sitting in the small kitchen and dining room, drinking coffee with Millie and Rose - two of my favorite fellow patients. If I had but one wish for this moment, it would be to have a cigarette. Smoking isn't allowed here, not even on the patio. I'm on a nicotine patch but am craving a cigarette. I've been up since 4:30am and the night nurses were kind enough to allow me to take an early shower.
Today is Maggie's birthday. There will be no card, co candy, no flowers, no birthday greetings bottle of wine.
At 4:00pm I'll be discharged after twelve days in the hospital - the last six I remember, the first six a complete blank. I'm being discharged back into the real world where I have no job, no place to live, a half-ass plan of do's and don'ts and little money. And I'm stuck with many bills that I thought my death would wipe clean but now must be paid. Isn't life grand and great! And how will I really spend my days and nights? Haven't a clue!
Although I am happy to be leaving, there is within me a sense of sadness in leaving. In an odd but fulfilling way, this hospital has become my home - a home I haven't had in over six months. I have made friends with many of the patients and staff, and have lived a "home style" type of life that I miss and truly need.
There is also within me a sense of fear, the fear of facing reality, the fear of the unknown and what awaits me when I walk out the front door. The fear of knowing the the biggest problem in my life is the forces of reality, too much reality. But there is no escape. When I walk out of here I will be alone, even though I will be with my parents. Alone to decide whether to live or die.
The doctors, nurses and patients have all helped me. Now, I must help myself. I have been told by the doctors that there is no medical reason why I am alive. And now everything is up to me. In about eight hours reality waits. What I do when I leave will determine whether I succeed or fail, whether I live or die. My fate is unknown but I beg God to help me and guide me.
What have I learned during my stay? It is not as easy to kill yourself as I thought, that it requires more than determination and a desire to die, and it takes more than a thorough and thought reading of the books, No Exit and the Physicians Desk Reference. It requires the dooming fate of misfortune. Am I lucky to be alive? People tell me so but I don't feel lucky. I feel as though I am being punished and persecuted like Job. Has my survival been a miracle? The doctors and nurses tell me so, but I don't feel blessed. I feel as though I failed, that there was a missing ingredient in my suicide attempt - another mouthful of pills, another glass of wine. Bad luck? Poor planning? A miracle? Who knows!
What else have I learned? That when you die, your family and friends keep living - the world turns, the sun rises and the grave-diggers pick up their spades and shovels and go to work. There are moments of mourning and sorrow, but life remains, continues and evolves - memories fade.
I have learned that to almost die is not a sign of immortality, to suddenly feel invincible and immortal - but rather the overwhelming certainty that death is inevitable, that one day I will die. It isn't so much that life can be fragile and precious, it's that death is so final.
What I have learned most of all is that my life is a perplexing and painful puzzle, a thousand piece puzzle of various shapes, sizes and shades that's scrambled and scattered. Now, I must try to put myself back together. To quote Yeats, "Myself I must remake" - one agonizing piece at a time. Either that or die.
When I walk out of here this afternoon which door will I go through. Will it be the right door or will I once again go through the wrong door first? Will I be drawn back to the darkness of depression and despair - or will I be guided by the light of faith or hope? How will I spend my days and nights? Will I relapse or recover? I know not the passage nor the path that awaits me - be they dark or light.
8:30am - Cape Psych Center - Hyannis, MA
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