A brief period of life - 1. Chapter 1

My head hurt, not like it would if I'd been hit but It hurt like hell. As for my stomach it felt sore and tied up in knots, like stomach cramps but worse as if something was trying to break out of it. If that was bad it was nothing compared to how my arms and legs felt, god was I trampled by a herd of elephants? I tried to get out of the strange bed only I couldn't, they felt heavy and I couldn't lift them. I could just about move my head to check out where I was. White walls, three other beds each with a whiteboard over them with names written on them and a curtain around each one. This started to look familiar and when I noticed the metal stand with a bag of clear liquid hanging from it I finally realised that I was in hospital again. But this is not where I was meant to be, it was supposed to end different to this. I didn't belong there and had no right to be there.

When the nurse came in he spoke to me gentley and told me that it was a close call, the drip was to give me the fluids that my body needed and medication to ease the pain, not that it felt like it was working. Everything had gone wrong, if things had gone the way they were meant to I wouldn't be here and wouldn't be feeling like this or feeling anything at all. The nurse was a good looking guy but why did he have to be so bloody cheerful, especially when he said that the doctor would be in to see me in after I had a bed bath. I didn't want to see the fucking doctor and definitely didn't want to be here, shit I'd failed and now I was suffering for it. The nurse cleaned me up and yes the nurse had a different mess to clean up off my stomach, he laughed as he told me that his husband said he should take this reaction as a compliment when it had happened with other patients.

Later the doctor came in, yes it was a shrink, he asked a lot of questions, my name, where I lived and the circumstances that led to me being admitted to the hospital. I didn't want to talk and tried to ignore him but somehow he got me talking. Then I was re-living my life all over again.

We talked about my childhood, or more like the lack of it, being ill through most of it didn't give me the chance to have much of one or make friends. No don't go feeling sorry for me or giving me your pity, I definitely don't want it, I didn't miss out any of the material things in life or being surrounded by a loving family I had all of that and a good education.

My life started to change when my kidneys were finally failing and I had a transplant. I remember coming round from the anaesthetic and looking into my dad's eyes, the love that was there will always stay with me. My mom was holding my hand and my brother and sisters were stood around my dad's bed. We both had drips on us, mine had medication to help prevent my body rejecting my dad's kidney.

We both healed from the operations dad was discharged from hospital first, I went home a couple of weeks later and we both had to take it easy for a while as we recovered. Dad went back to work and I started to go to normal school instead of being home taught by visiting tutors. My brother looked out for me as I settled in and carefully watched to make sure that nobody got rough with me. He is a good brother and my second best friend, second only to my dad. I finished school with good grades in most of my exams, first GCSE's and two years later A levels. I didn't go to college or university, I went to work with my dad and became a pawnbroker.

Although sometimes I had a few problems with my health growing up I made one or two good friends and had a couple of relationships that soon fizzled out till I accepted that I was bisexual. Then life began to take on a new meaning. When mum and dad divorced none of us kids took it well until we understood that it was nothing to with us and that mum and dad were still friends, their relationship had come to a natural end and they both had to lead their own lives. When mum died we all took it hard but dad was heartbroken, although they were no longer in love they both still loved each other and were close. Soon after dad started to work less and do more of the voluntary work that he enjoyed.

Then my health started to deteriorate again and everyone focused on me, dialysis became a part of my life again. None of us noticed that my dad's health was getting worse, we just accepted the way he was and put it down to his advancing years. How wrong we all were, silently he was suffering and shrugging everything off secretly seeing the doctor and visiting hospital for tests without our knowledge or support. When we found out the cancer was terminal and he hadn't got long left with us.

We all found it hard to accept and had to deal with it in our own way, I started to spend more time with my dad and tried to help him as much as I could. We all met Josh, a young man that he met through a befriending/mentoring program that he volunteered with. I could see how close they had become, I have to admit I did feel a few pangs of jealousy at first but I got over it and could see they were good for each other. Dad was a father figure to Josh and Josh gave dad a new purpose in life. Dad asked us to embrace Josh as part of the family, that was easy as he was very likeable and quickly fit in.

As had become habit I picked Josh up before going to dad's one day, we were joking with each other when we let ourselves in dad's apartment until we heard him groaning in his bedroom. When we saw him semi conscious on the floor Josh froze as I went to help my dad and dialled 999. Those minutes that it took the ambulance to arrive felt like hours while I tried to help my dad. When the paramedics arrived they tended to my dad while I calmed Josh who, like me, was in tears. It wasn't easy following the ambulance to the hospital, trying to calm Josh, call the family and drive was difficult to say the least.

When my brother and sisters arrived the doctor took us to the family room and explained dads condition to us, he was on life support in a coma following a major stroke/ heart attack. Although we knew this would happen one day we were all inconsolable, we never expected it to be that soon. We knew what dad would want so we agreed that if nothing changed in forty eight hours then life support should be removed. Nothing changed.

After the funeral I moved into my dads apartment, within days Josh gave up his flat and asked if he could move in with me, I agreed and he took the spare bedroom while I slept on the pull out in the lounge. Soon after I started to go through dads things and try to get everything ready to sort out, it's not an easy task but it had to be done. Strangely it felt comforting and I felt close to dad, having Josh there was both a comfort and a burden if that makes sense.

When I started to go back to work some days Josh would have a meal ready for when I got home, other days he would be in his room crying. Then the unthinkable happened, I came home one night to find Josh couldn't take it any more, when I called the ambulance I had flash backs that tore me apart. He didn't make it the paramedics pronounced him dead, he was gone when I found him. I still remember the note he left apologising and telling me how much he loved my dad, I wish I still had it but the police have never released it.

My health, both physically and mentally was getting worse. Yes I was getting counselling I had good days and bad days, but I was getting worse I couldn't see it but my brother and sisters could. Now I know that through their grief they were trying to be there for me but I couldn't see it at the time. The increasing frequency and length of dialysis was getting to me as were the feelings of guilt, guilt because I felt I had my dad down and not looked after Josh like I promised and guilt because I felt that my dad would still be here if I hadn't taken one of his kidneys. I was a complete mess.

I was then diagnosed as suffering from severe depression and PTSD. Physically I was lucky and received another chance when I had a further transplant, mentally I was on a steep downward spiral and spent a few short spells in the psychiatric wing of the hospital. I tried to come to terms with everything that had happened but I couldn't. I was going to sell my dads apartment and even put it on the market, but when I received a serious offer I couldn't sell and withdrew it.

I don't know what the final straw was that broke this donkeys back, but what ever it was it happened and I couldn't stop it. I had never drunk alcohol before but there was still some of dads wine and brandy here and I had tablets, painkillers and anti-depressants. The brandy burnt my mouth and throat I remember spitting that out, the wine was easier on the palate, so the more I drank, I remember taking some tablets but that's it. The next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital, it seems that my brother and sisters had a feeling that they needed to see me and found me unconscious. Well I Hated them I wanted to die and be free of my pain. After I woke up in the hospital they convinced the doctor to have me transferred to a psychiatric clinic where I spent a few months receiving therapy.

I don't hate my family, I love them and don't know what I would do without them, they love me unconditionally and I am a very lucky man to have them. Thanks to them I'm in a better place emotionally and mentally than I have been. Sometimes we don't realise how lucky we are and have the people around us that are there, I fall into that category. I'm really sorry for hurting them in ways that I can't begin to explain and hope I can make amends for that.

I'm still receiving therapy and have a long way to go before I can say I'm 'cured' of my problems, I may never be 'cured' but I hope to be able to cope better than I have before. One thing I am sure of is that suicide is not the answer.