Have you ever noticed that the point-of-view of a suicidal person is
never expressed in the mainstream media? Usually, suicide is presented as one
of the random mishaps of life, as something roughly similar to traffic
accidents and adverse weather events. Friends, families, and employers often
expressed shock and disbelief at the event, and then go on with their lives,
providing little or no insight into the nature of the event. As to the suicide
event itself, little is said about this, except the method that was used or
contemplated. Even less is said about the follow-up medical treatment and the
experiences of the suicidal person in the hospital. Almost everything is left
to the public's imagination.
Consider what happens when there is a suicide attempt by a drug
overdose. What happens afterwards? There is a stream of both objective and
subjective events within the experience of a suicidal person. Because each
suicide attempt is unique, it is difficult to make generalizations,
particularly regarding the subjective experience. Most people assume that the
subjective side of suicide is a horrible experience - in fact, this is not
necessarily true. Quite recently, I overdosed on the antidepressant medication,
Effexor. Contrary to most social stereotypes of this event, it was a rather
pleasant experience. The dying process itself did not disturb me. On the other
hand, the medical treatment of the overdose and the recovery process were
rather unpleasant, but transitory in their effects.
#file_1#
Within a few minutes after swallowing 20-30 tablets of the Effexor, I
began to feel less depressed than usual and more buoyant. As I was being driven
to the hospital, I felt calm and relaxed. Twenty minutes later, while
approaching the emergency room, my mood was the best it had been in over 10
years. There was an enhanced sense of consciousness and greater attention to
detail. My problems with depression had largely faded away. It is not entirely
clear if this improved state-of-mind was the result of the incipient effects of
the drug, or the catharsis of the suicide attempt. At the counter of the
emergency room, the staff examined my prescription bottle to determine the
number of tablets that were taken, and began asking questions about the
medications that I was taking; whether or not I had any drug allergies. In a
short while, I was led to a bed and asked to lie down. The side-bars of the bed
were raised so I wouldn't fall out.
As the overdose began to take effect in earnest, I began to feel
rather drowsy or sedated. I felt very calm and didn't move a muscle. An
emergency room physician examined me, and told me that an overdose on Effexor
would cause sedation and profuse perspiration. He prescribed the appropriate
treatment to the head nurse and her assistant. My blood pressure and heart rate
were taken. By this time, my heart rate was over 100 beats per minute. A fine
needle was inserted into a vein of my arm, and I was given IV fluids. The head
nurse then appeared with a large plastic tube and some equipment. She explained
that it would be necessary to pump my stomach out. I opened my mouth and she
inserted the tube down my throat into the stomach. This activated the gagging
reflex and was an extremely unpleasant experience. There was an orderly
standing by to hold me down against the bed in case I struggled. On several
occasions I gagged and was gasping for air, but did not throw up. After several
minutes, I began to feel more sedated by the drug overdose, and gagged less
often. The assistant of the head nurse stated that I was far less trouble than
the teen-age girl who had overdosed earlier - apparently, she had put up a
violent struggle.
#file_2#
Even though I was taken to the hospital and treated quickly, few of
the tablets were recovered from my stomach. These were tablets of the
fast-acting form of Effexor, which are porous and crumbly. They are absorbed by
the stomach very quickly, and the medication enters the bloodstream within a
few minutes. After they gave up removing any more tablets, the head nurse
injected a solution of charcoal down the tube leading to my stomach. Charcoal
absorbs dissolved chemical compounds, and often induces nausea and vomiting. A
second injection of charcoal contained a laxative. The tube was then removed
out of my stomach and throat. It was such a relief! By this time, my heart rate
was 150 beats per minute and I felt hot and sweaty, even though the emergency
room was rather cool. I felt very sedated, and drifted in and out of
consciousness.
As a result of the overdose, some reflexes and functions of my body
had largely ceased to function. I became incapable of nausea and vomiting; the
motility of my digestive tract had stopped, with the charcoal remaining in my
stomach. By this time, my bladder was full, but it was several minutes before
the urine was discharged into a container that was held by the orderly: It came
out at a trickle. The emergency room staff became concerned that I would go
into cardiac arrest because of the high heart rate. I was hooked up to a
machine that monitored my heart on a continuous basis. An alarm would be
sounded should heart failure occur. Periodically, the head nurse examined me to
see if I was okay. I told her that it was becoming difficult to follow what she
was saying, as I became more disoriented and drifted more frequently into
unconsciousness. I continued to lie in bed impassively, and didn't move a
muscle for several hours.
The Recovery Process
Begins
About 12 hours after I was admitted into the emergency room, I was
transferred to an acute care ward of the hospital. A nurse remained with me in
the hospital room on a 24-hour basis. Apparently, this was to make certain that
I did not attempt suicide again, and to enable a fast response to the first
sign of heart failure. It was a weird experience, having a nurse watch me all
of the time. I asked her if she would be watching me if I had to urinate again.
She laughed at this question, and told me she would not watch. Later that
night, as the drug began to clear from my system, the reflexes and functions of
my body returned with a vengeance. I became nauseated and vomited up charcoal
frequently. I began having liquid bowel movements consisting of charcoal. My
heart rate decreased to about 100-130 beats per minutes. I was able to stand up
and go the bathroom without any assistance. The recovery process had begun!
I was then transferred to the psychiatric ward, where there were about
a half-dozen people who had also attempted suicide by drug overdose. We could
have formed our own suicide club. In all cases, the suicide attempts were a
reaction to unacceptably high levels of stress - an all too common problem
in our society. The aftermath of the drug overdose left me feeling profoundly
washed out, like all of the energy from my brain had been drained. This aspect
of the recovery process was also unpleasant, and persisted for about a week. My
appetite was initially very poor, but returned to normal as the nausea
dissipated. While my mental reflexes were a bit slower than usual, I was
discharged from the hospital by the end of the weak. I was ready to go
home.
