It’s Wednesday night and I’ve been to the theatre to see that play. Cherie and Stella were my beautiful female companions.

It was a great play. Ever such a lot of swearing… by teenage girls with heavy Glasgow accents. I don’t really remember it very well, as I don’t really remember anything at all very well, since I died temporarily. Maybe that’s brain oxygen deprivation and temporarily being dead, for you? In fact I wrote this bit (‘They declared me ‘ medically fit’ and gave me the option to stay in hospital, or to leave. They didn’t put any pressure on either way. To, I think, everyone’s surprise, ive gone from being dead, to being in an air ambulance, to being in the major trauma unit, to being home again, in 42 hours . I didn’t demand to be released, or anything like that, they simply cleared me to go, after I’d talked to the hospital psychiatrist and his colleague, for an hour or two. I didn’t do a Hannibal Lecter, and deceive my way out, I just talked and answered the questions I was asked. To be honest, I don’t really remember what we talked about, as I don’t really remember much at all of my 36 hours post death.’ )   when i was released, but had forgotten that I’d written it, until i just found it.

I know I ought thank Marky P, Cherie, Jo, Dan, Leigh, Bev, Stella, T, Rick, Mike Smith,  Larry  and most of all, Pia ( who is ultimately responsible for me still being alive, for insisting that Stella keep checking on me after lights out  ) for their humanity and kindness since. Happy birthday to Lily today too; it was nice to see her this morning.

From being dead in this flat, to being in hospital, to being back, all in 36 hours sounds fairly quick really, but time flows strangely for me, so 36 hours can be a long time. It  didn’t seem at all strange being back to doing my ( limited) gym exercises within 48 hours – I mean why not? People seem amazed that I’m even out of bed, but it doesn’t seem strange to me – any more strange than life is usually to me now.

I’m sorry that my actions caused people upset, that I used the Air ambulance, that I made such a mess too. Rick and i  cleaned up my bedroom – it was actually like a murder scene in there. Rick is a policeman, so isn’t fazed I suppose, and other than being initially slightly emotional about seeing it ( for a few seconds only ) I was also unfazed by the amount of red stuff everywhere. It really is no surprise to me that I was dead for a bit.

By the way, no bright lights or floating above my body.


4 thoughts on “Wednesday.

  1. My absolute pleasure ?
    Not something you should repeat – Pia is your voice of reason – she speaks so much sense – all you need to do for now is 1 hour at a time – and so far you are doing GREAT !

    1. The amazing Stella- she is definitely the rabbit in that Zootopia sloth scene! The poor woman couldn’t even accompany you to a&e as she was being questioned by the police for hours for suspected assisted suicide… and she’d only been with you since the Wednesday! She’s definitely a keeper! 🙂

      Your account of being released prematurely from hospital – slightly differs to my recollection, which as pretty much most situations you are involved in, has an element of comedy to it (thankfully)…

      Stella, Cherie, Mark, Mike and Dan had all been in touch stating that you were saying you’d been given the ok to leave hospital and that you were asking stella to come and get you. Obviously, we all strongly doubted this was true, and thought you were cunningly plotting to somehow get stella to sneak you out of hospital (carry-on film styley).

      I decide to FaceTime you, you’re in a hospital bed, in some recovery part of a&e, and you get irritated with me – for doubting you’re about to be released.

      So, you ask the mental health nurse who has been sitting in the corner of your room since you came round (supposedly on suicide watch?) to confirm your suggestion. You tell the nurse to speak to me, and add that I am a social worker.

      The phone is placed on a flat surface and she speaks to me from above, clearly never having FaceTimed before. A Nigerian voice tells me – ‘if your people say he can be discharged, then he can be discharged’.

      I look at her in total bewilderment, from a hotel room in Morocco, and look behind me looking for ‘my people’; Apart from a 13 year old, in a bikini, plugged into her iPad watching a Netflix film whilst successfully multitasking and texting her friends – there is only me in the room.

      I ask in a slightly raised, alarmed voice – ‘what people?!’

      She says – ‘Doctors and social workers ‘.

      I reply, clearly agitated – ‘I’m not HIS social worker! I am a friend, who happens to be a social worker. This is totally crazy! 36 hours ago, he tried to commit suicide. He’s just posted a blog post stating that he regrets being alive! You can’t release him -take that from a social worker who has worked in mental health!’ (Hoping she’d interpret that as -‘trust me, I’m telling you – he’s clearly BONKERS at this precise moment in time! DO NOT send him home!’).

      She repeats – ‘if your people say it’s ok, then he is ok to go’…

      It carries on for a while, before she sits back down and you look at me and say something like – ‘see?’.

      Meanwhile – (behind closed doors)everyone back in the UK is desperately trying to get medical professionals to intervene and keep you in hospital for the foreseeable future…

      Needless to say, hours later you’ve somehow managed to blag your way out, and you’re on your way home?!

      Good old NHS 🙂

      Ps don’t get me wrong – I’m very appreciative of the NHS, just on this occasion…. wtf were they thinking?!


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