It was Friday morning, and I’d been out of the intensive care unit since Wednesday. Once again, I’d mixed my psych meds with a fifth of vodka and several beers and wound up back in the ICU, tethered to a ventilator. To my mind, it wasn’t technically a suicide attempt; it was just another case of let’s do this and see what happens.
Since I came off the ventilator and arrived in the psych ward, I’d endured the typical, albeit extremely uncomfortable, symptoms of alcohol detox. For the last few...