Epiphany

Last week I helped take care of a patient who had come in through the ED for a drug overdose/suicide attempt. 47 years old, his wife of 17 years had divorced him, and the legal proceedings were final. To celebrate he broke his 8 years of sobriety, got very, very drunk, and started downing pills. He took everything from Lexapro to Ativan. He quite nearly succeeded in killing himself. He had called his ex-wife to tell her his final goodbyes and she could tell he was slurring his words, became concerned and went to check on him. She found him unresponsive and called 911.

He'd been down for bit--his pH was 7.18, his pCO2 was in the 70s. By the time we got him, he was pumped full of charcoal, vented and restrained. I try hard not to be judgmental, but this guy was a character. He had an obvious metro-salon haircut, an elaborate nipple piercing, and his toenails were professionally painted. With daisies on his big toes, and zebra stripes on the others. People are only human, and we humans are some strange birds sometimes. When I inserted a foley on him it was obvious he had some kind of penile discharge--and not the kind you get from a monogamous relationship. So who knows the rest of the story regarding his marriage.

There were other qualities about him too; qualities I'd be envious of. He's a good looking guy--that body type that allows one to wear all the trendy fashions. Think J Crew or A&F. Based on his hygiene and personal effects, he was pretty affluent. He's clearly a guy that people gravitate towards, judging by the crowd that came to visit him. Probably the life of the party.

And in the quiet moments when we kicked his visitors out to suction him or clean the charcoal impregnated shit (one would think that charcoal shit would be odorless since charcoal is used to filter odors, but sadly, it's not) out of his bedding, I had a very harsh epiphany.

**If I'm not careful, I could very well be him in a few short years.**

I've alluded to wanting out of my marriage--that I've felt it's so stagnant that I feel I'll smother if I am required to bear any more hurt and insult. But the sad truth is, if my wife left me, I'd be devastated. And I don't know that I'd have any reason to keep on. I don't want to go so far as to say I'd be suicidal, but I can certainly foresee getting to the place where that might seem a viable option.

And what a horrible, horrible option it would be.

It seems the only truly viable option is to love her now. To love her the way she wants to be loved, not the way I think she wants to be loved. Even if I have to give the whole of myself away, isn't that a better option than splattering myself across the wall or ending up a shit burrito in some LTF somewhere? And maybe somewhere in the process, my love for her will set us free enough to allow that love to be returned.

I think there's a better chance of that in the here and now than if I were laying in a puddle of charcoal impregnated shit with a nasty green penile discharge 10 years from now.

I can change Ebenezer, I can change!