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Laura

Copyright, Laura

My Hospital Trip

When I took an overdose I didn't tell anyone about it until three days later. I remember trying to kill myself as if it were yesterday. After all, it was only last week! I wasn't initially intending to die, I just really needed to get out of something which was happening the next day. Something that I was extremely terrified about. Also, I wanted to cause myself unspeakable pain, as usual. Self-harm just didn't seem to 'cut' it for me any more (sorry about the pun!) and I felt as if I had to punish myself very badly for being a nasty person. I'd been planning 'the overdose' for quite a while, and had collected 80 Paracetamol tablets and had decided to take around 40. As it was, I didn't even take that many. It was about 4pm on Sunday evening when I went up to my room with a large glass of water, and put on some relaxing meditation music. I noticed that the radiator was on so I lined pillows up along it and sat down. I didn't take all of the pills at once; I only took about 8 to start of with. Almost immediately I fell asleep. I was tired anyway. When I woke up, about half an hour later, I was disappointed to find out that I didn't even feel ill. So I took another 8, and passed out again for about an hour. Once again I woke up and took 8 more. Once again, I passed out, waking up about two hours later. I felt really dizzy and a bit sick. I was so tired. I went and ran a bath. When I got in, I felt absolutely dreadful and ended up heaving myself out and lying on the bathroom floor in my dressing gown. With the wet towels in my hand I went back to my room and was violently sick on the towel. I went to bed. I will not go into great detail about the pain I went through that night, but I will tell you that it was awful. I threw up so much that I soaked three towels, a dressing gown and a fleece with pure stomach acid and my tummy felt as if I'd been punched repeatedly. I was lying in my own vomit.

The next day I stopped being sick but I still felt as if everything had been taken out of me. Strangely, even though I'd been so ill, I hadn't been at all scared that something was going to happen to me. I'd overdosed before (not to the same extent) and been terrified the whole time, but this was different... I didn't care what happened to me.

By the time my therapist came, three days later, on Wednesday, I was physically better. She asked me the usual - how I was, whether or not I was cutting etc, and then she asked how the thing I had so wanted to get out of went. She knew I had been scared about it because I'd told her. I said, "I didn't go." "You didn't? How come?" "I wasn't very well at all" "Oh... funny that you became ill so quickly. Is that a coincidence?" "No... it was self inflicted." "How could it have been self-inflicted?! What did you do?!" "I took a lot of pills." Silence... therapist looks at me in amazement. "How many pills did you take, Laura?" "Um... 24 Paracetamol on Sunday night." "OH SHIT!" I was hugely alarmed. I thought she would be okay about it, I mean she was last time, even though last time I didn't tell her 'til about 3 months later. She took her mobile phone out of her bag and proceeded to phone the mental health clinic to speak to the doctors and find out what to do. I curled up right in the corner of the sofa hugging a cushion. "I have to take you to the hospital." I looked up in disbelief. "WHAT?!" She said that I'd taken a lot and I was in danger, so I had to have my blood levels taken. I had to get in her car and go to hospital. She was in a huge panic, driving through red lights and all sorts. When we got to the hospital we instantly got lost and ended up in one of the wards, looking for A+E! We did find it though and were told to sit in the waiting room. The nurse came out and took my therapist and me into her room. "What happened?" You know what happened, I thought. Deep breath. "I took 24 Paracetamol on Sunday night". "Were you trying to kill yourself?" Silence, while I think of the answer that will get me into least trouble. "No." She took my blood pressure and temperature. "Okay, I'll take you to a cubicle and the doctor will be along soon." "Okay." My dad arrived at that point, which was best as my mum would have freaked, and my therapist went. The doctor came in to take some blood, and subtly looked at my scars. He ended up taking it out of my hand and said I was very brave. Then my mum arrived and we went for something to drink whilst waiting for the results (basically, to see if I'd messed up my organs). My mum was angry with me and wouldn't stop crying. I just ate my crisps, trying to cheer her up. I read my dad's horoscope out of a teen mag I had, and it said, "Wearing a denim skirt will get that lad's attention." We all nearly wet ourselves. Everyone was staring. After a few hours we were called back into the cubicle and told to wait for the doctor. Which seemed to be another hour! When he did come he said that my organs were fine, but they were concerned about the levels of aspirin in my blood. I told them that I hadn't taken any aspirin. "I know, but is it possible that you might not have known what you took?" "Well... gosh, I don't know." "Do you take anything for period pains?" "No." He felt my tummy and did my heart beat thing with the stethoscope thing. He said that the paediatrician would come and see me, then said goodbye. Then, a young woman came in and said "Hi, my name's Jen, I'm the paediatrician." "Oh, hi." She was so cool, she was wearing the brightest red lipstick and had blue highlights on black hair. "Well, the doctor told me that you have high aspirin levels, and although nothing bad is going to happen to you, we'd like to keep you in. However, it is your choice. There will be a lot of people around for you to talk to, including me." "Oh... well, I'd rather just go home." "Okay, if that's what you want. I'll give you my number incase you change your mind." This all went on a bit longer, the dangers of paracetamol etc. "You're too lovely to be messing your life up this way."

I'm only fourteen. I just wanted to say that you do always have another choice. Suicide is never the only way. Talk to someone. I got some pitying looks that day, one's that I will never forget, and I don't want to have to see them again.

Falling

A small figure rises from the bed,
And walks slowly across the stone floor.
The large arched window acts as a filter
Letting milky moonlight flood in,
Catching the figure’s face as she turns.
Childish in appearance
The girl shows no expression,
But the fear is evident.
She closes her eyes tight,
Tries to picture happy scenes.
Her mind is overcome
By images of ghouls and ghosts.
Her dark eyes open,
In the hope that the tyrants will be gone.
They are still there, more real than ever.
Frightened and confused the child shakes,
Feet as cold as cubes of ice.
Head filled with the laughter
And screaming of her demons,
A tear begins to slide down her pale cheek,
Splashing onto the tiles below,
Reminding the child of salty lagoons.
The French doors of the room swing slowly open
As the tired silhouette creeps out,
Onto the moonlit marble balcony,
And the infant leans forward
To look into the lake below.
She observes her reflection in the fresh water,
As the tears of blue fall,
Making ripples like flowers.
Biting her lip, the child climbs onto the balcony edge,
And peers through mournful eyes into the sky above.
Without a sound she tips forward,
Arms stretched out at either side.
Like an angel,
She glides through the air,
Plunging to her peril in the clear water below.