1. Pinching Pennies on the Cusp of Death
While walking to the park, I suddenly realized that I needed to buy water to drink with all the pills. I’ve always had difficulty swallowing pills. I have to wedge each one partway down my throat before gulping some water. Sometimes the pill slips out of position, even after the part with the water, and I have to start over. And here I had thirty-two pills to swallow.
At the supermarket I found that they didn’t carry any bottled water (this was long ago, before bottled water became ubiquitous), so I decided to buy the most water-like thing they had, which was apple juice.
In the apple juice section, I spent a long time comparing the prices of the various brands before finally recognizing the pointless absurdity of what I was doing.
I laughed all the way to the checkout line, and I laughed as I paid for the apple juice, and I continued to laugh as I walked through the supermarket parking lot.
2. A Useful Thing to Know
In the park, after swallowing the pills, I laid down to die. I remember looking at the branches above me before closing my eyes. I had no idea how long it would take, but I imagined that I would become sleepy and then fall asleep and then die without knowing I was dying. So my last conscious moment would be one of extreme sleepiness.
The next thing I remember — this may have five minutes later, or ten, or twenty — is of standing in the spot where I had just laid, having realized that I didn’t want to die, not then or ever.
It’s a useful thing to know.
3. Morning Constitutional
The closest hospital was three miles away. Fortunately I was a runner back then, so three miles wasn’t far. However, in the two previous weeks I had gained at least ten pounds, mainly by gorging myself on pies and cake. My favorite was Entennmen’s Chocolate Fudge Cake, which I would finish in a single sitting, eating directly from box. I would often eat two cakes a day.
So the extra weight would be a problem, but the pills were far worse. How long could I run before they made me collapse? I settled in at a modest pace and tried to distract myself by focusing on my breathing.
About halfway to the hospital, I noticed a figure in the distance. As I came closer, I saw that it was a man and that he was walking toward me.
This was, to say the least, a bizarre place for a morning constitutional. I was running along Roosevelt Boulevard, a twelve-lane highway bordered by nothing but trees. Stranger still, the man appeared to be dressed entirely in white: white top, white pants, white shoes.
Also, it seemed that he had no arms.
However, a moment later I saw that he did have arms, and that they were wrapped across his chest, as though he were hugging himself.
This too seemed strange. Of course the whole day seemed strange. And now here I was, running to the hospital because of an aborted suicide attempt. It’s difficult to think of anything much stranger than that.
Except, perhaps, for what came next, which is that I saw that the man was not hugging himself. Or that if he was, it was not by his own volition, because he was wearing a straight jacket.
As I passed him, he smiled the smile of a man enjoying a stroll in the sun.
I waved to him, and he shook his shoulder in a way that I took to mean that he was waving back.
4. Killing Time
On my arrival at the hospital, I discovered that I didn’t feel all that wretched, considering. I remember standing across from the emergency room entrance, confused about what to do. I didn’t want to enter unless I was certain I needed immediate medical attention. I couldn’t bear the thought of sitting in a dreary room with a loud television, waiting to hear my name called. So I decided to remain near the entrance, where I would be seen if I happened to pass out, until I was certain it was time to go in.
There was a phone booth nearby, so to kill time I called a girl I knew, I believe her name was Lori. She was blond and played guitar. We had made out once.
I kept the phone booth door open, just in case. We talked for a while before I finally told her where I was and what I had done. She begged me to go to the emergency room, and I promised I would go as soon as I felt bad enough. However, every few minutes she would ask how I felt, which quickly became tiresome, so I lied and said that I was feeling awful and that it was time. I think she may have cried.
Then I paced back and forth in front of the emergency room entrance, waiting.
Life is a series of decisions and their consequences. I decided I wanted to die, and then I tried to kill myself, and then I changed my mind, and then I found myself standing in front of a hospital, feeling drugged and woozy.
I pushed open the door and walked to the desk. There was a nurse there, smiling at me.
“Hi, Michael,” she said.
I was stunned. How did she know my name? Was this a dream? Was I hallucinating? Was I dead?
“Lori called us,” she said. “We already have your information. The doctor is ready to see you.”