I vaguely remember trying to end my life when I was in the hospital. It was night. There was no window, and I could not turn my head to see the clock on the wall beside me.
Even if I could see it, I wouldn’t have been able to read it. I knew it was night because it was quieter than usual. There was still the beeping of machines, and the occasional nurse’s voice that wafted through the open door of my darkened room.
But the electric hum of doctors, nurses, technicians, and visitors going about their business had disappeared. I was having difficulty breathing.Read more on themighty.com