Recovery

Posted on January 26, 2005 in Pulmonary Suicide

I don’t have a dramatic rescue tale to tell this time. My lungs worked like the hands of a fisherman who was dragging a net filled with a Hummer. For therapy, I tried to walk and kept tiring out at short distances which kept getting shorter even as I rolled down a hill. I finally stopped and sat on a log long enough to call my wife. She came and brought me to South Coast Medical Center where I waited out my recovery until yesterday.

April 6, 2009: This was a cover story. I was in the hospital for a very different reason — a mixed episode which threatened to end my life. Had I had a little less shyness about cutting open my wrist, who knows what would have happened? It is time that I came clean.