The sons of bitches cracked me like an egg, and now I don't know whether I should be angry or elated over my recent vindication. As I was going to write in the super long, super cool, super Juicy, full-length update regarding my "overdoses", I thought, from the very start, that my second overdose was a FAKE. After a call from my doctor today, I KNOW that I was right. Why didn't it occur to anyone that I couldn't be at home typing the hippocratic update only a day after taking 95 pills? Why didn't it occur to me that I would have actually of SLEPT after taking 95 sleeping pills? Why did I turn my eyes from the truth and start believing their lies?
During the second "OD" I BEGGED not to be taken into the hospital. Why should I be? I had taken 7.5 milligrams of Klonopin, but that isn't that large an amount, and the only thing that was still fucking with me was my phenobarb levels (for all the details you're gonna have to read the hippocratic update). I just wanted to go to sleep. 7.5 milligrams was definitely enough to give me a few hours of shuteye. Yet, the pill bottle my mom, who has been helping me through all of this, picked up from the pharmacy for me, only 1 day earlier, had 25 pills left in it. 25 remain out of 120, in 24 hours. I remember her discovering this, and yelling out to someone, "he took 95 pills" and then I remember my dad saying, "that's it, you're going back to the ER." "I only took 15 pills," I screamed, "I don't need to go to the fucking ER!" My mom rushes out demanding that I show her where the other 80 pills were, then. I couldn't. All I knew was that I was going to take 14 .5 milligram pills (7 milligrams), and had them laid out on the bed in front of me, when a 15th pill rolled out of the bottle, and I decided it must be the magic one to help me sleep a few hours, so decided to take 15 pills. As mentioned, my mother picked up the pills less than 24 hours earlier, and the bottle said #120, so, if I only took 15, and there were only 25 left, where were the other 80? I absolutely could not account for them. I still swore that I took only 15, but no one believed me, after my last overdose, and I was again sent to the ER.
At the ER I told the condescending doctor "Low-Life", whom you'll get to know all-too-well in my full-length update, that I only took 15 pills. "First you say you took 95, now you say 15. You are a liar!" He tells me. "I never said 95," I return, "I said 15. My parents said 95!" "Well," he says, "in your state, I'd tend to believe your parents." So, I was put on a 72 hour hold and wheeled away, another victim of a massive "overdose." I knew, the entire time, that I had only taken 15 pills, and for at least the first 15 hours I was in the hospital, I stuck to that story, and told anyone willing to listen that the "95-pill" conspiracy theory was a hoax.
Finally, wishing to get out of the 72-hour hold, and figuring nothing else could have happened to the other 80 pills, I started to believe in the liars, rather than myself, and figured I took the pills in a dazed orgy of sedation. I came home and wrote the Hippocratic update nearly bragging about the "record" 95 pills I swallowed.
Well, about an hour ago, my doctor called, and he gave me my Klonopin levels taken after the "overdose." The levels reveal that there is no way in hell I could have taken 95 pills. NONE. It looks like I took more like fifteen. Like I argued, I didn't need to stay in the hospital. I didn't need to drink "charcoal" (more on that later). Like I argued, I didn't take 95 pills.
Now I think back on this, and how I let myself believe their lie. For the first time in my entire life, I cracked under pressure and stopped believing in myself. I still had a lot of trouble thinking straight, after the barbiturate incident, and even my mom and dad were saying I took 95 pills, so I must have, right?
Did I ignore the fact that I was still
Did I ignore the fact that I could still see straight and talk without slurring? Yes.
Did I ignore the fact that I was the only one there when I took the pills, and I only took 15? Yes.
I ignored it all, and I hate myself for it.
Never, children, let anyone stop you from believing what you know is right. What you know is true. Never swim in their shallow puddle of deceit, confusion and stretched "truth." Climb out, dry off and step over the puddle of lies to higher ground. The only thing you can be sure of in this life is that you're being true to yourself; if you lose that knowledge, you may as well swallow 95 pills and be done with it.
More as the story unfolds . . .
Back to the juicy cerebellum
Copyright 2001 Alex Sandell [all rights reserved]. I will sue you if you copy this without my permission. No, I'm not lying.