This week, a few days before Thanksgiving, I’m still trying to come to terms with how I ended up in a coma and then a coma-like condition.
I was 16 years old, living in the same neighborhood as my dad and my mom, both of whom were alcoholic.
The couple had been divorced for almost 20 years.
They had an older son.
I’d been working at a local bar in the neighborhood when my dad came home from work one day to find me crying on the couch.
I told him I needed help, and he gave me a bottle of alcohol and some aspirin.
I started drinking again and was drinking a lot more, my mother says.
I’m pretty sure that’s when I fell into an even more bizarre situation.
She says I was taking alcohol and antidepressants to combat my anxiety.
But I wasn’t drinking as much as she thought.
I couldn’t stop it, and I was doing it, my father says.
In those days, the family home was just a three-bedroom house.
The only thing the family owned was a house in an apartment complex on the other side of town, with a garage.
My father says he’d driven to the apartment complex from work, because he knew that’s where he could get the alcohol and the medication.
My mom says she and her boyfriend had a plan.
My dad had gotten an appointment with a psychiatrist to talk to her.
She said she’d call me when she got home, and we’d make arrangements.
I woke up in my bedroom and the lights were on.
I said, Dad, are you okay?
And I was really scared.
He said, yeah, I just want to talk.
I’ve never been in a panic before.
He says, Mom, I need to talk with you about this.
I’ll drive to your place and you can come over.
We’re just going to talk about what happened.
My mother says that when she left the house, I fell asleep in the bedroom, and she said, Daddy, you can’t do this to me.
That night, I woke to my dad crying on top of me.
He told me that my heart just stopped.
I had this horrible, bad feeling in my chest.
I remember going to the bathroom and crying into the sink.
My stomach started to hurt.
I just couldn’t feel.
My heart was racing and I could feel it in my head.
I thought, Daddy.
Daddy, please, I don’t want to die.
My brain was just blank.
I wanted to stop and I wanted my mom to come over and talk to me, but she said she couldn’t.
So I didn’t say anything. I wasn