Liver and Cherry

[DanaC]

Went over to see Sundae today Gave her all your well wishes. Had a nice visit and she seemed in good spirits overall.

[xoxoxoBruce]

Thanks for representing us, Dana, I'm sure you did us proud.

[fargon]

Originally Posted by xoxoxoBruce

Thanks for representing us, Dana, I'm sure you did us proud.

Ditto.

[limey]

Good oh!


Sent by thought transference

[Sundae]

I went to rehab.
Everyone was very kind, decent, determined to save us all.
This does not seek to mock them or belittle their efforts in any way.

But cheez-Louise, if you don't laugh you're going to cry, right?

We had Music Therapy every week.
The "child" of my key-worker - a great person and a good session. I learned more in that session about the other two people in my intake than any other.

To some people it was a joke, a blag. To us it was quite important and special, because none of us really REALLY liked music.
So knowing the others didn't either, I just chose what suited me and what matched the theme, I'd have been far more choosy if it had been a musical set of people.
I was stymied - actually we all were - by having no CDs and no portable music playing devices with us. Not music people, see?
Turns out my mini DVD player (from Mum, love it) plays CDs just fine.
So I'm off spending a whole week trawling the markets and second hand shops of Leeds just looking for the song I've decided on.
And five minutes before the session, two-tooth Mark is checking out the CD rack in the communal pool room.

Tcha.

I win though.
Of course.
I don't tell you the stories when I don't.

Because I made them listen to a song in French.
And Monty Python's Galaxy Song (for "Uplifting")
And when it was "Our Song" I chose one about the group, because I didn't have anyone else. Which made them a little sad. Given all the time and resources in the world I'd have played them The Doctor and I of course, to take in Limes, Dana, Bri, Arran, pantomimes and the Cellar in general. But you know, world enough and time and all that and everything.

Talking of Dana, she is excused this class because I told her all about it in enormous length and girth. And of course then we danced like totes amazeballs.

More exciting instalments if I get the chance.
Some of which may encompass the ridiculous food we were served.
Ridiculous in portion size I mean - I've been poor and hungry and I'll never scoff at a free meal. But no wonder I'm so huge now. I ate half of Yorkshire while I stayed there.

[glatt]

Originally Posted by Sundae

And of course then we danced like totes amazeballs.

Awesome! I haven't danced in ages. Not officially anyway.

[Sundae]

Dana's house is the best venue.
Me, You, Her, Carrot. Tomorrow.

[Sundae]

Okay, this is not a Christmas story.
It is not uplifting and does not as yet have a happy ending.
Please do not read today if that is what you are hoping for.

So anyone who took an interest knows I got myself kicked out of rehab for a single drink.
It's policy, and a policy I signed so I am apportioning no blame, just making it clear I didn't go on a two day bender or something.
Gutted at the time, because despite minor grumbles (I will always have those and to be fair I think many people do, I just record mine for posterity) it is the happiest and most stable I have been in YEARS, except on Arran).
Hung drawn and quartered afterwards because I simply couldn't cope coming out, finding out Diz was dead, losing my meds, my routine, etc etc.

So yes, that's when the bender really started.
No apologies. I am not an unrepentant alcoholic, but an alcoholic I am.
I can actually control it when my life is stable. But you know me and stable. The Baby Jebus is better acquainted.
Put myself in hospital again.

Woke up in the early hours of the morning - I've never really written about rehab but while there I had night after night of uninterrupted, peaceful and beneficial sleep. So this was a shock to the system.
Anyway I had the shakes SO bad, despite only having had a drink hours beforehand. My heart was doing a tarantella, my breathing was shallow and my skin was so sensitive that even during my intermittent freezy periods I could not bear anything touching it. By the time it was light I could see I was once again bright yellow with the old goldeneye, and I don't mean the song by Tina Turner.

So this time I avoided the GP as they had been so very difficult while I was in rehab.
No, really.
If I had the energy and inclination (criminal) I'd have torched the place.
Luckily I have neither.
Or the bus fare.

So off to St James's Hospital A&E.
This time I knew it would be a longer stay, so I packed more useful stuff.
Like a bag to vomit in. That's about it.
Alcoholics + planning = shit, unless it's planning more alcohol.
I was expecting the usual interminable wait in A&E despite it being pretty much the first bus into Leeds and a weekday besides (do NOT go in at night or at the weekend, or during any amateur sporting event. Or at all) So I asked for one of the pretty cardboard hats to be sick into. Finally a good decision.
I was.
In my usual fashion - noisily and ridiculously dramatically. Have done since I was a tiny mini-me (Mum says, "Why can't you just be sick normally like your sister?) Nope. Always a drama. Nothing like the rest of my life at all.

Anyway, this bumped me up the list because I was polite, articulate, considerate, Southern (sorry, it's true, we get different treatment), yellow as a banana and could probably have Ebola or something. I spoke to a lovely treatment Doctor (himself a Southern emigree - Eltham, don't blame him) who was kind enough to compliment me on being the first drunk he'd ever treated who behaved in a civil fashion. Must have been my fashion sense, as puking in A&E, even in a cardboard hat, is hardly civil. Maybe he liked my purple coat.

Off again to SAU, where I went last time before they got me into rehab.
Where all the Nurses spend their time doing admin jobs, trying to get beds for everyone - which means pretty much everyone not bleeding or dying. Oh and fitting canulas and checking no-one has shrunk since they were last admitted. This hospital obsession with height, I swear...

I got a bed pretty quickly this time, only about 12? hours.
Shame it was on such a lacklustre ward. Still...

Long post already.
Will continue.

[Sundae]

I arrived on the Gastro ward via orter at about 01.30.
No-one on the desk, but the porter (nice chap) had my bed number and delivered me.
This meant I had no introduction and in fact had to ask other patients for minor help like where the loo was etc.
Found out days later there was a Day Room including a free TV (you have to pay something RIDICULOUS for TV and phones on wards now. I think it's £5 an hour) And it had BOOKS IN.

Slept most of the day thanks to Chlordiazepoxide - necessary for detox, not their fault - then stayed awake all night because I was on a ward of 4 old biddies who couldn't work their call buttons and kept shouting "Nurse! Nurse!" So nice to hear and smell someone sharting into a cardboard hat.

Aside from food, I had no treatment, no questions, no assistance.
Well. fair enough, I put myself there. There are real people with real problems after all.

Oh except a lovely lady on the SAU. 50's I'd say.
Limey's attitude.
Yes there are rules but if you've broken them it doesn't mean you're broken yourself.
She told me I was less trouble than what I termed people with "real" problems because some of them drove too fast, or ate too much sugar or put themselves in as much danger as I had. And for goodness sake I was polite about it. Never saw her name badge, wish I had. I'd send her a thank you card without details.

So off home.

Guess what?
Nothing had changed!
Diz was still dead. My flat was still a health hazard. I was still in financial trouble, and the pubs were still open.
Well, well, well.
Let's see if we can work out what happened next boys and girls?

Now don't get me wrong.
I did make some sensible phone calls, did some things I was scared of and faced up to. I also went to Leeds for an appointment, rode a big cock (Cellar link safe for work) and the Dickensian festival in Otley made me smile an awful lot. And cry, because the carol singers were marvellous (proper choir I say, mixture of ages and genders, not all pre-pubescent boys). The choir master asked for requests and after 5 seconds silence I couldn't stop myself any longer. " Adeste Fideles please!" His face lit up. Then dropped. "It'll be in English I'm afraid" he said. Oh bless him. "But will you still have the descant?" I asked. Again he was a picture - he was speaking to a lady who knew her stuff. "Of course!"

It was beautiful and I leaked a bit at the eyes.

And there were proper Mummers.
I gave them some money I couldn't really afford because they'd obviously worked really hard at what they did. Anyway, I'd only have spent it on a "real pork" hot dog

Photo is me being all non-yellow after treatment. Which will give you an idea.

[Sundae]

So.

I had a few mugs of mulled cider at the festival (barely alcoholic actually, because it's heated) and came home in the dark.
To find a note wedged into the door from my Landlord.
I'm paraphrasing here, but not by much.
It told me that unless I responded by return he would consider my occupancy terminated and my belongings would be disposed of. I didn't know this was illegal - a formal eviction notice has to be served.

After a little bit of vomiting, I braved a text response explaining I had been absent and was trying to work through some mental health issues. I was seeking advice regarding my situation. Because even I know you don't make financial promises in writing.

I then received FIVE text messages in quick succession, each more threatening than the last - sadly I started deleting them after the second. And then a couple of voicemail messages, ditto.
But it proves that the time I called Dana and Limey in a panic when I thought he'd entered my flat was actually true, because of details he included in the second text.

Anyway, no sleep for Cherry that night.
Some of what I owned was still stored in rehab with no way to get it back on a single bus trip - although they have been very good about the whole thing.
I was about to be made homeless with everything else I owned destroyed.
I had a box of ashes instead of the furry love of my life.
I was in debt.
I couldn't go home - and although I love Otley more than Aylesbury, home is still where my family live.

Radio 5 told me it would freeze that night. And it was obvious from midday it would.
I saw a way out.

I planned reasonably well.
Escaped the flat for the day, making sure I was good and cold.
Used the last of my paper money to buy a bottle of vodka - alcohol raises skin temperature without body core temperature.
I even took sandwich bags and toilet paper so if I had to do the necessary I wouldn't defile the forest.
Oh, by the way I decided on death by exposure because even though I thought my landlord was A PIG he was actually a businessman and did not deserve to find a body in his flat. More of that later, he is actually A PIG.

So, after spending my last pennies on half a pint in an old giffers' pub to give me courage, and to have a wee, I set off on the two mile climb up to the Chevin.

I made some big mistakes though.
Firstly, do not wear flip-flops. Yes, you will stop feeling your feet very quickly but you will also not be able to leave the main path, which is actually very unfair to early morning dog walkers. Wear stout shoes and take them off.
Secondly take Lola's lovely little torch (which I still use and is usually in my bag) or you will not be able to leave the main path and be very easy to find.
Thirdly, do not call a Dwellar. Even though having no word at all from Brianna broke your heart and you know this Dwellar will be awake at that time. Step forward if you'd like to BTW, I am only preserving your anonymity out of respect to you.

Good thing though, I heard my first ever real owl. How cool is that?

Anyway I removed my clothes down to my underwear - my dead mottled minge is not something I think anyone by a Coroner should be subjected to.
Then had a good ol pull on the voddy, forgetting about the whole I-don't-drink-neat-spirits thing and so promptly threw a fair amount back up again. What? I'm writing about a suicide attempt here, I might as well give all the details.

Anyway. I thought I was all canny and clever when I talked to the Dwellar.
As if.
Said person worked out enough to call my Mum.
One or other of them got in contact with the Police.
I'd only been there a couple of hours when a Police helicopter turned up, searchlights on. Then the blues and twos, lights flashing. At this point I knew I couldn't compete. They had proper boots and lights and everything. I'd already lost a flip-flop in the dark, I could hardly outrun them.

It was at this point I was struggling back into my clothes (one final indignity I wanted to spare my family) that I fell face forward onto the forest floor.
I've broken two "insignificant sinus" bones and am blind in one eye. Although they expect sight to return partially or even totally.

And that, folks, is why you don't take your dead cat's ashes out to a dark forest with you.
I'll tell you the unedifying story of the second hospital ward they put me on, and the nuthouse I am now in (well - I'm on leave at my parents' for Christmas) later.

But two interesting addendums:
After all the threats and unpleasantness from the the PIG, the Chief MALE member of Nursing Staff from the nuthouse called him and he said said, nice as pie "Oh no, she still has the tenancy, nothing has been removed blah blah blah" So my glasses, which I have trouble seeing through my good eye without, my phone charger which meant I was friendless for ?six? weeks, and my underwear which meant I had my arse sticking out of a backless hospital gown for the same amount of time are all waiting at "home" for me. Which is nice.

And the same with my post, meaning the letter from the DSS saying I needed to contact them with further information is just sitting in the hall. So guess what they did? Like any agency anywhere they assumed I didn't need the money and stopped my claim. I borrowed money from a very kind person just to pay the (exorbitant!) bus fare from Oxford to Aylesbury and finally buy some deodorant.

I know, half blind and still moaning about money.
A least I have Diz. Even if he's a bit crunchier than he was.

[DanaC]

So it was an actual suicide attempt?

Ach damn, I didn't know that. I knew you'd taken Diz's ashes and gone up the Chevin - didn't realise you had no intention of coming back down alive.

*hugs*

Ahh honey. It's a rum old life.

[Clodfobble]

I'm glad you're still with us, Cherry. And extremely grateful to the Dwellar who managed to get in touch with your mom.

[Carruthers]

As the Dwellar mentioned in Post # 280 above, Sundae has invited me to make a contribution to the thread and this is posted with her approval.
I’m not breaching any confidences but it will allow me to place things in context and express thanks to those who deserve it.

It’s probably best to start with my mobile phone. The main reason for having my phone is so that aged Dad can get in touch with me in the event of some domestic calamity occurring on the few occasions I’m out of the house and he’s on his own.
It is usually switched off when I am home but on this occasion I had left it on and noticed that there was a missed call from Sundae made at about midday.
I tried calling back but it switched to voice mail so I sent a text. This was at bedtime on the Monday evening so I decided to leave the phone on for a few minutes in case she called back.
As it happened I went to sleep so the phone remained on which, as things turned out, was fortunate.

At about 0015 a call came through from Sundae and it was immediately evident that she was in a distressed state. Over the next several minutes I managed to work out where she was, the weather and how she was dressed.
Please bear in mind I live about 200 miles from Otley so it was a bit of a shot in the dark working out her location. Although conversation was difficult we spoke for ten or fifteen minutes before the phone cut out.
I thought that the Police would be unlikely to place much credence in a call from somebody not related and a considerable distance away, so I rang her Mum who lives in Aylesbury just a few miles away from me.
I had no idea if the phone would be answered at 0030 but fortunately it was and I effected an introduction and gave an account of events and suggested that she phoned the Police.

At 0149 I received a text message from West Yorkshire Police asking me to call and quote a Log Number which I did. This allowed me to pass on details of Sundae’s call and prompted another call from an Inspector in the control room at about 0200. He was remarkably switched on and I don’t know how he did it at that hour. I think I spoke to him twice (memory a bit hazy) and on the second(?) call he said that he could see the output from the helicopter TV camera and somebody had been spotted in the woods. Fortunately, it was Sundae. At about 0230 the Police phoned me back once more to say that Sundae had been found and that she was OK but cold and in the care of the Ambulance Service. The rest you know.

The Police put a remarkable amount of effort into finding Sundae and they deserve our thanks as does the Ambulance Service.

[glatt]

Sundae, I'm sorry you were/are hurting so much. I'm really glad that you reached out to Carruthers and that he orchestrated your rescue. I would really miss you if you succeeded. When the holidays are over and you head back into the program, I hope that you give it your best shot. I'd like you to be healthy and I want to see you posting here for years to come.

[Gravdigr]

Sundae, please don't ever try that again. Please.