The Millenium...and Beyond
New Years and winter 2000.
It was the closing of what seemed like the best year of my life, and the beginning of something new. I can't claim that the events that I'm about to recount are of either my best or worst times. They are a little of both, but I have since found greater joy and greater sorrow, proving that you never know what the future will bring.
It was the first and last New Years where I could get drunk, and drunk I indeed got. The celebrations took place (where else) at Weber and Wes' place. Wes ordered a keg for the event, and I brought my favourite spiced rum and a litre of coke. The whole time (sober and drunk) I was either doing my impression of Fat Bastard from Austin Powers 2 or reciting the DX New Age Outlaws mantra. Some of us (ok most of us) were heavily into the hard stuff.... I'm talking WWF here (that's right I refuse to call it WWE). So we got into the spirit (or should I say spirits). Neil pedigreed me onto the concrete floor. I wrestled Shephard who twisted me into submission. I even took a chair shot. That's right, some drunken arsehole took it too far. This drunken arsehole was a guy who was only loosely invited to the party and will forever be known as Jeff the masturbator. I took the chair shot like my hero Mick Foley, with whom I share a similiar likeness. I took it, didn't fall down, didn't wallow in pain, I was like " Oww! What the fuck's wrong with you?" Everyone was stunned, but not stunned enough to let it happen twice. The chair was confiscated and the offender didn't trouble anyone until later that night (or early in the morning according to the clock) when he was seen masturbating to porn in Weber's kitchen.
The countdown was another scene etched into my memory. As the New Year was officially announced, Chalmers and I cheersed each other spilling a few drops of our respective drinks on Aleks and his then girlfriend Kristine, understandably annoying them. Wes, seeing this as Chalmers standing up for himself against Kristine, said "Good for you, Chalmers" and emptied his beer on the hapless couple. Following Wes' lead, Neil poured his FULL beer on the pair. Chalmers suffered two beatings for this. One from Kristine, and one from....Aleks? No. Sean (the white rage as he was known). Aleks found out who the real culprit was and chased him out Weber's door...and landed on his ass as he slipped on the ice which Weber neglected to remove from his front step. Wes, "Rock-bottomed" Aleks and proceeded to put him into the sharpshooter, gleefully inviting Aleks to "Tap, tap!"
Neil, Weber, and Wes, feeling that the occassion required them to do something new and exciting, decided to streak....in the minus 10 degree January night. Kristine, speaking of Weber's Richard Johnson "Small, small." "Shrinkage, shrinkage," was Weber's reply.
It was a good time.
Now I recount what followed. My first real fall. I need not go into detail about the nature of my illness. That has already been done, but I want to give an account of my hospitalization. I thought I had defeated my demons but I guess in retrospect, I was just ignoring them. I was getting into sci-fi again and I suppose I was bound to get into trouble doing that. My mind raced until I could think of nothing else. Every avenue of thought led me back to my delusions and distortions. I've never been as close to ending my life as I was when it struck early in January 2000. I took a butcher's knife from the knife rack on top of the fridge, and held it tip first against my chest, intending to plunge it into my heart. My indomitable will to live and survival instincts kicked in and I put the knife away, deeply terrified at what I had been prepared to do.
It wasn't just my demons that led me to suicidal thoughts, but also that I had come so far. I had previously never been so happy and now I was at the brink of despair. I didn't know how things could possibly be right again.
Weeks past and it worse and worse until I was finally admitted into the psyche ward. For the first few days I did nothing but eat, sleep, and take medication. I was in constant fear, not of anything external, but of interior terrors. I was put on risperidal which made my thoughts foggy and froze my joints. I was quickly taken off that drug and put on olanzapine which I still take.
I met some intersting people there. I met the singer who sang the polkadot door theme, a paranoid yet gregarious young man named Chris who taught me some invaluable lessons on guitar playing, and shy Roy who heard voices. I played pool with Roy, but hanging out with him in the ACU got me into trouble once. A highly delusional woman followed me back to my room and claimed that I was her husband. The nurses`were all in a meeting so I called upon the aid of one of my fellow patients. She got the nurses and my 'wife' was taken back to the ACU, and I only rarely went back there again myself. I also met a girl named Amy. She was your typical crazy girl (sort of like Britt only 500 times more attractive and 50% less likely to give you an STD). She told me to go with my fears. What exactly this meant, I still don't know but it sounded like sage advice. She started dating a guy in the hospital who, Roy informed me, was faking schitzophrenia.
The 3 things I looked forward to most during my stay at the hospital were meal times, chaperoned walks, and visiting time when my parents and grandmother would come. I would otherwise play the guitar my parents bought for me, listen to music, play pool with Roy, or pace up and down those depressing hallways (a popular pass-time believe me). Meal times were highly anticipated because of my medically induced increased appetite, and I'm wont to eat alot when I'm anxious. The walks were great because apart from them and weekend passes, I rarely got outdoors. And seeing my family naturally felt good. My brother and sister never came. That always troubled me but I suppose there were good reasons they didn't come.
I eventually got out and I spent most of my time at home sleeping and eating. My brother called me "The guy on the couch" (referring of course to the movie half baked). My strength eventually returned but the ordeal weighed heavily on my young heart.
It was the closing of what seemed like the best year of my life, and the beginning of something new. I can't claim that the events that I'm about to recount are of either my best or worst times. They are a little of both, but I have since found greater joy and greater sorrow, proving that you never know what the future will bring.
It was the first and last New Years where I could get drunk, and drunk I indeed got. The celebrations took place (where else) at Weber and Wes' place. Wes ordered a keg for the event, and I brought my favourite spiced rum and a litre of coke. The whole time (sober and drunk) I was either doing my impression of Fat Bastard from Austin Powers 2 or reciting the DX New Age Outlaws mantra. Some of us (ok most of us) were heavily into the hard stuff.... I'm talking WWF here (that's right I refuse to call it WWE). So we got into the spirit (or should I say spirits). Neil pedigreed me onto the concrete floor. I wrestled Shephard who twisted me into submission. I even took a chair shot. That's right, some drunken arsehole took it too far. This drunken arsehole was a guy who was only loosely invited to the party and will forever be known as Jeff the masturbator. I took the chair shot like my hero Mick Foley, with whom I share a similiar likeness. I took it, didn't fall down, didn't wallow in pain, I was like " Oww! What the fuck's wrong with you?" Everyone was stunned, but not stunned enough to let it happen twice. The chair was confiscated and the offender didn't trouble anyone until later that night (or early in the morning according to the clock) when he was seen masturbating to porn in Weber's kitchen.
The countdown was another scene etched into my memory. As the New Year was officially announced, Chalmers and I cheersed each other spilling a few drops of our respective drinks on Aleks and his then girlfriend Kristine, understandably annoying them. Wes, seeing this as Chalmers standing up for himself against Kristine, said "Good for you, Chalmers" and emptied his beer on the hapless couple. Following Wes' lead, Neil poured his FULL beer on the pair. Chalmers suffered two beatings for this. One from Kristine, and one from....Aleks? No. Sean (the white rage as he was known). Aleks found out who the real culprit was and chased him out Weber's door...and landed on his ass as he slipped on the ice which Weber neglected to remove from his front step. Wes, "Rock-bottomed" Aleks and proceeded to put him into the sharpshooter, gleefully inviting Aleks to "Tap, tap!"
Neil, Weber, and Wes, feeling that the occassion required them to do something new and exciting, decided to streak....in the minus 10 degree January night. Kristine, speaking of Weber's Richard Johnson "Small, small." "Shrinkage, shrinkage," was Weber's reply.
It was a good time.
Now I recount what followed. My first real fall. I need not go into detail about the nature of my illness. That has already been done, but I want to give an account of my hospitalization. I thought I had defeated my demons but I guess in retrospect, I was just ignoring them. I was getting into sci-fi again and I suppose I was bound to get into trouble doing that. My mind raced until I could think of nothing else. Every avenue of thought led me back to my delusions and distortions. I've never been as close to ending my life as I was when it struck early in January 2000. I took a butcher's knife from the knife rack on top of the fridge, and held it tip first against my chest, intending to plunge it into my heart. My indomitable will to live and survival instincts kicked in and I put the knife away, deeply terrified at what I had been prepared to do.
It wasn't just my demons that led me to suicidal thoughts, but also that I had come so far. I had previously never been so happy and now I was at the brink of despair. I didn't know how things could possibly be right again.
Weeks past and it worse and worse until I was finally admitted into the psyche ward. For the first few days I did nothing but eat, sleep, and take medication. I was in constant fear, not of anything external, but of interior terrors. I was put on risperidal which made my thoughts foggy and froze my joints. I was quickly taken off that drug and put on olanzapine which I still take.
I met some intersting people there. I met the singer who sang the polkadot door theme, a paranoid yet gregarious young man named Chris who taught me some invaluable lessons on guitar playing, and shy Roy who heard voices. I played pool with Roy, but hanging out with him in the ACU got me into trouble once. A highly delusional woman followed me back to my room and claimed that I was her husband. The nurses`were all in a meeting so I called upon the aid of one of my fellow patients. She got the nurses and my 'wife' was taken back to the ACU, and I only rarely went back there again myself. I also met a girl named Amy. She was your typical crazy girl (sort of like Britt only 500 times more attractive and 50% less likely to give you an STD). She told me to go with my fears. What exactly this meant, I still don't know but it sounded like sage advice. She started dating a guy in the hospital who, Roy informed me, was faking schitzophrenia.
The 3 things I looked forward to most during my stay at the hospital were meal times, chaperoned walks, and visiting time when my parents and grandmother would come. I would otherwise play the guitar my parents bought for me, listen to music, play pool with Roy, or pace up and down those depressing hallways (a popular pass-time believe me). Meal times were highly anticipated because of my medically induced increased appetite, and I'm wont to eat alot when I'm anxious. The walks were great because apart from them and weekend passes, I rarely got outdoors. And seeing my family naturally felt good. My brother and sister never came. That always troubled me but I suppose there were good reasons they didn't come.
I eventually got out and I spent most of my time at home sleeping and eating. My brother called me "The guy on the couch" (referring of course to the movie half baked). My strength eventually returned but the ordeal weighed heavily on my young heart.
posted by The Doctor at 3:57 PM
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