2023 Suicide Attempt
This was originally written shortly after the events in question, in July of 2023. It was theraputic to write, and it will be theraputic to publish. Be warned, there is some very raw anger here. The post scriptum is a followup written in August 2024.
I took 10 5 mg oxycodone tablets Saturday in a botched attempt to end my own life. It was an act of pure, unadulterated rage. The logic, if it can be called that, went something like this. I am hurting. I cannot hurt the system that is hurting me. So instead, I’ll deprive it of the opportunity to hurt me anymore. And perhaps I’ll also send a message. Obviously I failed. I spent Saturday afternoon in the ER. Sunday morning I puked for hours. I’ve spent good portions of the last couple days in bed, listening to Star Trek. I’ve also had dull generalized aches and pains. When I cough, my ribs hurt.
So how did I get here? I get a check every month from Social Security. It’s $1090, barely enough to live on, but I manage. This month, I only got $395.80. So I called Social Security on Thursday the 29th of June. “Apparently Medicare premiums were withheld from your check. We don’t know why.” So I called Medicare. “We didn’t withhold anything, because your premiums are paid by the state of Oregon.” (Which I knew already). “You should call your local medicaid office.” So I called them. “We don’t know what’s going on either. We paid Medicare. We called Social Security. We’re looking into it, and we’ll get back to you tomorrow.”
Tomorrow came and went. I waited till Wednesday and tried Social Security again. “We don’t know what’s going on. I’ll get somebody else to look into it, and we’ll get back to you by Friday.” Friday came, with no return call. Realize that by now it’s been over a week since I first made anyone aware of what was going on.
I made one more call to my local Social Security office. “We don’t know what the problem is, but I’m sending a message to our processing center and hopefully you’ll hear from them in two weeks.”
By now I’m really pissed. At the end of the day, I started thinking. What if the local Social Security office is just uninformed? Maybe I’d get somewhere by calling the national office. So I did just that. I spent two hours on hold, listening to the most obnoxious cheerful muzak endlessly looped, and then someone answered my call. I repeated my story for the umpteenth time. “Yeah, this makes no sense. I don’t know what the problem is.” This was followed by a bunch of clicking as the dude typed on his keyboard. Five minutes later, he raised his voice to me. “You called our office earlier today?” “Yeah, I talked to someone here in my city of residence.” “Well, there’s a message out to our processing center. You just need to wait.” Dude was really fucking condescending and hostile. I hung up the phone. I’m surprised I didn’t lose my shit then and there, but the pump was primed for it.
This society is so fucked up. We literally have billionaires, people with more money than God, and you’re telling me that you’re gonna treat me like shit and kick me around over $700? Fuck you.
Post Scriptum
Most people know at least part of my cardiac history. I had a single bypass in November of 2021. At the time, I was also diagnosed with congestive heart failure. I have between 35 and 40 percent cardiac function, last time they checked.
In February of 2023, I received a type of defibrillator called an S-ICD. For the next 5 months, everything was cool. Then, a few days after my suicide attempt, I was sitting in my living room eating some chili lime plantain chips, when all of a sudden, my device goes off. It freaked everyone out, including me, of course.
A month passed, and I got shocked again.
A few weeks later, in September, I was shocked late at night while going to bed. Ok this is getting freaky. We ended up calling an ambulance. While they were wheeling me into the ER, the defibrillator went off a second time that night. They kept me for a couple days to make sure everything was ok, and they said they’d follow up with me for more procedures.
In early October, I had another episode. The defibrillator didn’t go off that time. Paramedics and ER staff had to shock me. I was shocked twice. I spent a few more days in the hospital, and my electrophysiologist performed a cardiac ablation.
Everything was cool for a few more months. Then, early in the morning of February 1, 2024, I was shocked by the defibrillator. It shocked me repeatedly while I was waiting for paramedics. And it continued shocking me on the way to the ER. All in all, the device shocked me some 17 times that night. ER staff also had to shock me a few times.
If you know what being punched multiple times and left with bruises is like, you’ll know what being repeatedly shocked feels like. I was sore for days; moving my upper body hurt like a motherfucker.
I don’t remember most of Thursday the 1st. On Friday the 2nd, they transferred me to OHSU in Portland. I have a $3500 ambulance bill for being transported 50 miles. It will never get paid. At OHSU, they decided to change out my S-ICD for another type of device that has more treatment options than just shocking. I went home after almost a week.
For now, I haven’t been shocked, and I’m fairly certain that my new device is doing its job, because I’ve noticed it correct abnormal rhythms a few times.
So what’s my point? My botched attempt at suicide may well have made my heart condition that much worse. Also, at the time of the attempt, I had started weening myself off of my antidepressant. I was feeling great all in all. I snapped, and out of rage, I did an ill-planned impulsive thing. When I was suicidal, I always said that I wouldn’t make an attempt unless it was thoroughly researched. No cries for help from me. So much for that, eh? I’m back on a higher dose of antidepressant.