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Slowly my body awakens. Far away I can hear sirens sounding. I open my eyes and wonder where I am and what had happened? I can't think and hardly move . There is something wrong with my head. With horror I remember last night. This was not supposed to be happening. How could it? What would happen now?

I try to get out of bed and get to the bathroom but I fall to the bed when I can't stand on my right foot. My legs are like spaghetti. Somehow I manage to go and get back to bed. My brain and body isn't working. The sirens haven't stopped and I realise they come from inside my head. There's another noise too, like a radio signal and it feels like part of my brain has been blown off. What should I do now? What could be done? If I call 911 they will certainly have me looked away, my biggest fear in this life. I hide my phone number and call 911.

- My friend has taken a lot of sleeping pills and can hardly breathe. What should I do?

- We need to send an ambulance right away.

- He doesn't wan't that. What would they do at the hospital?

- They would pump his stomach and give him active coal.

- Okay. I will try to convince him and call you back.

- Please give us the address right now.

I hang up. I am hardly awake and my worst nightmare just got worse. I could die if I didn't call the ambulance or worse, be like a vegetable for the rest of my life and if I did I would be looked up and perhaps die there too and forever loose my dignity, integrity and respect.

When I finally gathered enough strength to get out of bed my tears were rolling down my cheeks. I was afraid that Sven would see my crying every day, but he stayed out of sight. To survive I sat down at the computer and tried to focus my thoughts. It wasn't easy. My brain was hardy functioning. Mostly I just sat and cried and my head was twisting constantly because of the neurological damages.

I tried to find out why I had failed and it was pretty obvious my dose of pills was too little. Apparently it required LOTS of pills. I thought I hade taken enough, but apparently I hadn't and I was furios with my self for never seeming to do anything right in my life. I had always just almost made it with everything but just before the finish line stumble and fall. At least my sons father got It right. But he seldom left things to chance. Being run over by a train was pretty damn definite. Just a bit selfish because of the trauma it leaves for other people. Well, he never thought of them anyway.

My mother called and asked me how I was doing? She had called the hospital and convinced them to see me.

-It's impossible Mom, I can't move and I can't walk. The only way to get there would be if they carried me on a stretcher.

-Alright, I 'll see if they can arrange that.

A few hours later she called back. They would come and pick me up. With at stretcher. I was very worried how that would turn out. Should I say anything at the hospital? Would they notice? The Ambulance came again. Have lost count now on how many times they have been here. It took an enormous strength for me to even get out on the porch, My tears were rolling and I was terrified, probably in post traumatic stress too. I did not want to do this, but had no choice. It felt like I was going to the guillotine.

At the hospital I saw the doctor and managed to convince him that there was something wrong with my stomach and had been for a long time. They just hadn't taken correct scans before.

He decided to sign me in in at the gastro department for further evaluation. I was kind of lucky that I was committed cause I couldn't take care of my self. They gave me food and drink and when I needed to go to the toilet, twice a day. I wonder why they didn't think that was strange and forced me with more to drink? A fluid intake of less than 100 cl? They don't notice a whole lot in those departments. Too many people not communicating.

They got me the toilet-chair and rolled me to the bathroom. I couldn't even take one step. Although it was a blessing to be fed and taken to the bathroom it was a nightmare. Of course I hardly slept anything at all. And then I mean anything literally. Not that I not was used to that already, but my body and brain was on the brink of death. If I somehow managed to fall into light sleep there was quickly some alarm or nurse or noises around me that woke me up. Or the helicopter landing or taking off just outside my window. It made quite a noise. Of course I couldn't take any more sleeping pills either. My brain would explode. I considered telling them the truth what had I done and that they maybe should do some thorough check up on my body and brain, but I didn't. I was terrified of being looked away and the consequences of that so I kept quiet and cried when I wasn't in chock. There was no no way for me to escape my anxiety with alcohol or work or dancing. I wondered how this could go so wrong? What I had done that was so horrible? Well, I sort of knew from the very beginning, but this seemed to harsh a punishment. I went through all my history on Facebook and my own diary notes to analyze every detail. A sort of confession to my self. I was my own Freud. In that moment I had my black glasses on me. Freud was not happy. He and my moralizing Super-Ego agreed that everything I had done had brought misery to other people. My rationalized Ego tried to tell them that I had no choice. I had done nothing wrong. My Id screamed as well that I was not more than a human with feelings, wishes, desires and instincts. Our primal gifts that should not be ignored. They may not be the smartest. But they were more often correct. The sessions were endless. I prayed a lot and I asked for forgiveness for everything I had done wrong. Please holy Mary, mother of God and her baby son Jesus and his father in the heavens, forgive me and have mercy on my soul and protect me and my family and friends. It was a mantra I repeated hundreds of times a day. Or the Lord's prayer, Our Father. When I couldn't take no more I played Word feud.  

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