I'm glad I'm writing all of this down.  It'll help me remember.  I keep wondering whether all of this will encourage or discourage anybody else from trying it.  All I can say about that is to be careful unless you really are trying to kill yourself, which I wasn't.

Anyway, this is probably the last I'll write about it.  I just wanted to finish up what happened after I passed out and eventually woke up in the hospital.

My immediate impressions were that my mother was there with me, I had an IV in my arm, and I had a huge headache.   My mother was obviously relieved that I woke up.  She said that I'd been unconscious for three days.  Maybe I was in a coma, she wasn't sure.  But anyway now it was Friday morning.  It took me a little while for my head to clear out and begin to remember why I was there.  But when I finally did remember, I realized that my mother must know what I had done to myself.  Oh, no.

I asked her how I got there.  She said that she'd found me in my bed and called 911, and then she frowned and turned away from me, bringing her hand up to her mouth.  She was really upset.  I can just imagine what I must have looked like.  I felt really bad for having put her through that, but I didn't know what to say to her except that I was sorry.  She asked if anyone had done this to me.  I shook my head no.  And then she did something I didn't expect.  She suddenly seemed relieved and didn't look so upset anymore.  And then she kind of zoned out and stared out the windows for a little while.  As she was zoning, I began to notice all of the stuff i was hooked up to.  I have no idea what it all was, but there seened ti be little electrodes and tubes everywhere on me.

I was feeling way better later on that day, and my mother and I were communicating again.  I'd found out that I was in the ICU because the infection was so bad my kidneys had begun to shut down.  I had gotten toxic shock syndrome, which I'd heard of but only in relation to tampons.  Apparently that can kill you.  I didn't know.

I got to go home from the hospital a couple days after I woke up.  I lost my job.  My mother and I agreed that if I'm going to continue living at home, I would have to start seeing the psychiatrist again, at least for a while.  My father doesn't know everything that happened.  He just knows I got sick.  Right now it's October 8th, and I think I'm completely recovered.  I even have a new bed.

I had a lot of time to talk with my mother while I was in the hospital be adn since I've been home.  I don't want to go into too much detail about what we've talked about, but I will say I don't have any more secrets between us.  She knows everything now.  The weird thing is that she seems to understand it all way too well.  I'm beginning to wonder about that.  Like maybe she's got some secrets too, you know?
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