I will be forever grateful that D called N and they conspired to take me to emergency. Without their intervention, I would be dead.
I went along willingly enough when they told me they were taking me for a little ride, and I cried the entire time. Like a lost child I let them hustle me into the waiting room where the nurses immediately hustled me into that little green room with the fish-eye in the door. I sat and cried while N and D patted my hands and knees or hugged me hard. The hugging made me cry harder and somewhere deep inside I knew I was out of control but I simply could not stop.
I barely noticed when the doctor arrived, except for the fact there was another person in this small smelly room and he was staring at me. He stared at me for so long that I started to ignore him and concentrated instead on my crying. It was just easier to do. D interrupted my reveries and caught my attention when the doctor wanted to ask me questions, but I couldn’t understand what he was saying. He was of Egyptian descent and his accent confused me in my watery state. I constantly turned to D for his interpretation of what was being said, only to slide back into my own little world and my tears. The effort was just too much.
When I was asked to bare a hip so they could sedate me, I didn’t care. N and D made room on the couch for me to lay down on as I slowly gave way to the sedation and my sobs turned into little whimpers. When they arrived with a wheelchair to take me away, I didn’t care. The sedation helped me slip away, and by the time we arrived at the psyche ward, I was almost to the point where I tipped over the edge of the world and into the unknown. I remember N and D wiping their eyes as they said their goodbyes, and I wondered who was causing their tears. I believe that by the time they reached the locking doors of the ward, I had already forgotten them and myself.
Even though this happened back in 1998, it is still an incredibly hard memory to revisit and relive, and this is all I can do for today.