The first time I attempted suicide I was 15, but that was a different story. That was not about the same reasons why I did this, later in life.
I was, as are most people who try to end their own lives regardless of their reasons, locked into some inhumane hospital in a town I've never been to, treated like a caged animal, drugged out of my mind, raped (sorry to have to mention that part, but it is the case), bruised, beaten, treated like garbage, transferred to another hospital in a town I've never heard of (I don't live in New Jersey, or New York and never have), then transferred to another one. In the end they told me that in order to go home, I had to give up my home, travel to Florida to live with family members I have not lived near in years, and that if I did not do this, I would be sent to a "state hospital", despite being completely rational and not suicidal at the time. You don't have any legal rights in psychiatric hospitals or units. I was injected with drugs, given pills, given more drugs, and I complied and did as told. In order to leave this situation I did get back to Florida. The only way I was able to do this was to have my brother fly up to make the trip back with me. The hospital would not let me leave otherwise. My brother holds that against me to this day and has barely had anything to do with me ever since, because he didn't want to have to do that.
So the next time I went to a hospital for a psychiatric reason was when my mother, who herself loves psychiatry and the great enjoyment people can get out of being labeled lunatics, thereby assuming they no longer have to take responsibilty for their own lives and can now feel sorry for themselves for all of eternity, would rather believe that I have some mental illness than believe anything else more rational. So in this hospital, Morton Plant in Clearwater, Florida, I was locked up again. And that was a year ago. And I was made pregnant at that time. And after the nightmare that I've lived with every day since then and everything that I've tried to try NOT TALKING ABOUT THIS, I am now mentioning it here without caring much that everyone who reads this will happily assume it could not be true. It is, sadly, very true. I was given ultrasounds, I have seen the babies with my own eyes (they were twins), I have heard their heartbeats, I have been told in so many words by multiple medical professionals that it is a baby (or two babies), and simultaneously, I get to be told pregnancy tests are negative. Bear in mind here, I'm not healthy at all. I can't carry a healthy child, anyone in their right mind who knew what my body was like would know that much. I'm also very petite by nature, and generally was wearing size four being 105 pounds which is my normal weight, before I was made pregnant. I am now size 12; I weight 120 pounds, my stomach carries a nice big pouch that cannot be ignored or denied by anyone who knows what my body looked like last year. I don't fit into any of my clothes. I'm physically very sick, exhausted, and the baby/babies, are obviously sick to the point they cannot deliver at all or they would have kept growing and come out on their own.
So, here's what I've been through with that. I had no car, so there was no way to get to an abortion clinic, not that I was stupid enough to assume one exists where I would be treated humanely with the situation I'm in. My doctor, by the way, on OBGYN, Dr. Jose Pagan, informed me that I was pregnant and he was telling me the "backwards way" LAST SUMMER. That's about a year ago now. You might want to imagine what a body is like after it's been carrying around a sick infant for a year to understand why I am now desperate enough to want to die. I live in SEVERE, CONSTANT, CHRONIC, UNREMITTING PAIN every single day of my life from my pelvic area to the upper abdomen, from the right rib cage to the left, and including my back. It hurts like hell.
I've been to Dr. Pagan repeatedly to get a 'real" (not the "backwards") news that I'm obviously pregnant. And in the year 2005, after women have fought for equal human rights for a few thousand years, the news that I get told every single time (and this has been going on for over a year), is that the test is negative and my pain must be from something else.
Ok, then, the pain will be from something else. So I said fine, it's endometriosis then, lets TAKE OUT the endometriosis, and finally after multiple visits, this madman decided to do surgery for "endometriosis'. The surgery was supposed to include "if necessary", a "CESARAEN SECTION CUT" which is called a laparotomy. Do you want to guess just how "necessary" that is??????? It's called life or death. I will DIE without that surgery. Anyone with any knowledge of medicine would understand this much. And so he proceded to do a minor "laparoscopy" and then let me wake up without ever having that "laparotomy" which I need to survive. In other words, I woke up and was told essentially the doctor decided not to take the baby out and save my life, he was just going to let me suffer a slow and painful death because he can.
I've gone to a pregnancy center. Their urine test did not show pregnancy, probably because after about 9 months with an ABNORMAL pregnancy, no urine test is going to show anything normal going on. I've had blood tests, and I've gone to an abortion clinic, pain four hundred dollars and was then told that they would not do the abortion because even though I AM SHOWING BECAUSE I AM OVERDUE, they urine test shows no pregnancy.
Think for a minute, and please try to do this without the easy notion that someone writing this must be insane. Just think for a moment if you were in this position, it actually was happening, you were not insane, and you knew no one in the medical establishment would help you. What would you do? Cut yourself open to get the baby out? Not really possible.
I decided to kill myself last November, because, frankly, there is no other way out of this nightmare. I took my mother's car, crashed it at 50 miles per hour into the concrete side of the Skyway Bridge, hoping to careen over the guardrail, go down the 150 foot drop and die. I didn't careen over. I lived. They told me I needed surgery and wouldn't do the surgery. The baby was kept inside me and I was sent home. That was at Bayfront Hospital. They have xrays there that will show my pregnancy.
In December I went to the emergency room at Morton Plant Clearwater, out of desperation. Okay, you watn to use people to breed babies in psychiatric hospitals? Please then take the babies out when the person agrees to cooperate, don't leave it in there. This was not what was done. I went in because I am pregnant. I said I want an abortion. I was told this was an unfortunate leak and was promptly committed to the psychiatric unit where I was kept for two weeks even though I was not suicidal at all. I was given a sonogram there. It showed a baby. I was told "go ahead and breed" (kind of hard to do when YOU CAN'T GET THE KID OUT OF YOUR BODY).
I went into that emergency room for severe physical pain, nothing was ever done the entire time I was there about the pain. No abortion was done. The transvaginal ultrasound which showed the baby was done and then I was told that pregnancy test was negative. If I was not so terrified of repercussions, I would have gone in there screaming about being pregnant, but when you've been threatened and mistreated as much as I have, you don't do that type of thing. I was very cooperative, and eventually they sent me right back out in the same shape I was when I came in the door, except that on top of everything else I was now homelss and most of my belongings were in the garbage since while I was locked inside and committed against my will, I was not around to pay my landlord my rent, so I had nowhere to live.
In February I went to a different hospital for the pain. This is before the surgery with Dr. Pagan. This is Morton Plant Mease, and at this hospital, they did not tell me that I was pregnant either. But they also do not have a psych ward there, so I was admitted for the pain to the regular hospital. Multiple tests were done; I eventually lost my job over the time that was spent in that hospital, five days. No doctorss admitted I was pregnant. They tested me for gastrointestinal and gall bladder problems. It's not a big surprise to me that my gall bladder is abnormal, considering I am in unremitting abdominal pain 24 hours a day, I have no waist anymore, I fit into none of my clothing, and I feel as though I am dying.
They sent me home and said to come back for gall bladder surgery. I got the endometriosis surgery, hoping the doctor would take the baby out. He didn't. Why bother with gall bladder surgery? It won't help. This problem is quite obviously not my gall bladder. Dr. Pagan's recommendation is to "get pregant" or take "Lupron" to cause Menopause, down Vicodin, and know that I "will be in pain".
Dr. Pagan is not only unethical and inhumane, he's a sadist who deserves a horrible death himself and a long time in some circle of Dante's inferno. This man has KILLED ME, and I was polite and kind to him the entire time. Every doctor I have seen who has looked at this "biforcated uterus" (read: you are pregnant with twins), and has DONE NOTHING has killed me.
What exactly have I done that require the death penalty? Let me see, oh, I get Medicaid and Medicare and disability benefits. Newsflash, I also work, I pay for my own bills, I receive no help of any kind from any family member, I obey the law, I do not do illegal drugs, I don't own a weapon, I've never threatened anybody in my entire life, I have a college education and I've spent more time in libraries and bookstores in my life than any place else, I go to church, and I am one of the kindest people you'll ever meet, believe it or not. I've done nothing to deserve this nightmare. Nothing. And I know that I'm not the only person this is happening to. I'm just writing it down now because I've carried this secret around with me for a very long time, and I don't want to die. I know that I am going to have to die, since I've been left with no option. But I don't want to die. I want to keep working, to keep dating people (believe it or not most people who meet me have no idea of anything I've written here), to get married and have a child, to survive, to be able to afford to survive, to get a decent car, etc.......
But I'm dying. I'm dying because I don't have the social and financial status that this society requires for one to be treated like a human being who deserves to live. I'm dying because it's very easy for someone who "looks" relatively healthy and tells you something that sounds bizarre to be labeled mentally ill when she's perfectly sane and when her physical health is the problem. I'm dying because I'm poor, more than anything else. If I had a car that could drive half an hour, I'd go to a different town, I'd find a different doctor who's not affiliated with these hospitals, I'd have my baby, and I'd live. I don't have a decent car; I don't have the money to do all these things, so I'm going to end up dead.
EDIT: October, 2011 - I came back to this original post to clarify that everything, absolutely everything, written here was derived from delusions due to the fact that I was flagrantly, floridly psychotic when I created this blog. I was never pregnant, was not raped inside hospitals, and was not told I was pregnant by anyone. I know that if you are new to this blog and you read the above it could be quite confusing, but it is an example of what psychosis does to the mind. After I started taking antipsychotic medications later in 2005, I stopped believing these things had happened to me. I now have completed a two-year college degree, am working on a BA, have lived in the same apartment buiding for five years, have a job that I've had for several years, and take medications religously because I do not EVER want to get back to the point I was in when I wrote the above delusions.