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Cola Diet Other CHAPTER IV: Phoenix REDUX

Tags: doctor nurse
Here is the reboot of my favorite chapter of my memoir. Again, minor changes.

Click HERE for Chapter I REDUX
Click HERE for Chapter II REDUX
Click HERE for Chapter III REDUX
Click HERE for Original Chapter IV

This is a work of memoir. It reflects the authors present recollection of my experiences over a period of years. Certain names, locations and identifying characteristics have been changed, and select individuals are composites. Dialogue and events have been recreated from memory, and, in some cases, have been compressed to convethe substance of what was said or what occurred.

Chapter IV


“Alright, what’s the heartbeat?”

“Down to 31 beats per minute and dropping.”

“We can’t go much lower. Go find out if his family has a history of heart disease and ask his mom exactly how many lithium he took and at about what time. You, go order a thyroid and kidney test, I’ll have them do an ultra sound and another EKG in the morning.”

“Yes Doctor. Doctor, I think he’s awake.”

“Good, go get the charcoal, quickly. Tyler… Tyler. How are you feeling?... Do you think you could vomit for us?... Do you know where you are? Do you know what happened? Can you tell me who I am?..... Tyler?”

The blackness ended, life had managed to best me and the sudden rush of light and noise jolted me back into conciseness, mocking my ever-beating heart and cackling at my every exhale. While hoping to wake up and be in the presence of Jesus, my grandpas, Howard Hughes, and my dogs Archie and Kibbles, or at least back on the bathroom tile due to some miscalculation, I instead opened my eyes to see myself in a hospital bed and at the center of attention in the middle of a crowded room at the Beaver Dam Community Hospital ER. There was an unusual chill in the room, I looked down and found, to my horror, my entire naked body covered by nothing but a paper-thin hospital gown and hospital footies. Fucking fuck. I looked down the neck hole to make sure, still in disbelief that mankind would do something like that to a man. My junk was supposed to be on lock-down from everyone like Pandora’s box until my wedding night. I found not only that I was indeed mysteriously missing all of my clothes I had on the last time I was awake, but that they had also glued metal electrodes all over my chest and stomach that were capped with red wires that lead out my left sleeve to a computer. After settling down from the shock of being practically total-ass-naked, I realized that I had a thin tube running along my face, pumping oxygen into my nose, and looked down to see my entire right forearm covered in blood and an IV plugged into the middle of it with yards of tape holding it on. I stared at all of the blood, bewildered and thinking hard if I could really be fucked up enough to actually believe I swallowed pills when in reality I slit my wrist when a nearby doctor who must have noticed my confusion queued me in on the situation. “Oh, I’m sorry about that. At first we had our student doctor insert the IV, but he couldn’t find your vein and after a few tries I just did it. Boy, you have got some hidden veins! Don’t worry though, I found one.”

I gazed around the room and saw half a dozen random doctors and nurses, my family physician Dr. Miller, barely recognizable in sweatpants and a Green Bay Packers sweatshirt, and a sheriff talking to a doctor just outside the room dressed in the instantly recognizable iconic brown jumpsuit and thick black belt with hundreds of pockets. The fear, guilt, self-loathing, sadness and surplus amount of meds in my system overwhelmed me, and my thoughts began to scramble.

“Shit, oh shit, a sheriff!? Wait… oh fuck, suicide is kind of like murder, murder of myself. Am I going to jail? They’ll stick it up my butt for sure!”

“Why can’t Dad hunt? This would have been so much easier if Dad just fucking hunted and was packing heat.”

“That nurse is kinda cute… Oh God, did she see my wiener??? She’s obviously been around, how did mine compare? How big is the average peepee? Oh shit, nobody’s supposed to see it until I’m married. I’m done, I might as well have dangled the little fella in front of my webcam on a streaming broadcast for the World Wide Web. I’ll never be the same, I’ve been violated.”

“How the hell did I get here? Ambulance? I always wanted to ride in a speeding ambulance; too bad I was out cold. Did Daddy carry me to the car? I wonder if Daddy could lift me.”

“What’s going to happen now? Can I go back to school? I miss school. Can I see my dogs? Oh God, I’ll be under surveillance 24/7 from now on, this was my only chance to die and I fucked it up. Wait, am I going to get punished?”

“That male nurse is obviously a queer. Oh shit fuck, did he fondle me while I was out!?”

Dr. Miller interrupted my rambling thoughts with the rundown. “Tyler, I don’t know what’s going on but I’m just a family doctor so talking about this isn’t exactly my… expertise. So I’ll just take care of the health aspect the best I can. You swallowed a lot of pills Tyler, you need to understand the seriousness of this. You’ll get out of this now but if you were smaller or your parent’s wouldn’t have found you for a few more hours, there’s a very good chance you really would be dead. We can treat you for all of the Prozacs and Clamipramine you managed to swallow, but the lithium is where we’re concerned. Even if you get out of this, there is still a lot of damage done and just because of this one mistake of yours all that lithium is going to give you a greater chance of heart attack, heart disease, and heart failure for the rest of your life. We’ll keep working on this of course, but there is no quick fix for lithium. Right now they’ll have you swallow some charcoal and run a few tests, and then you’ll be transported upstairs to the ICU for the night as soon as a room becomes available. Your parents will be talking with the doctors, the sheriff, Dr. Josey, Dr. Green, and myself and we’ll determine where we go after you get discharged. But for now just worry about getting healthy. These are all great doctors and nurses, and they will be taking care of you from here on out. I gotta get back to bed, haha. Hang in there Tyler.”

My actions summoned him to work at three in the morning and I saw a Dr. Miller I had never seen before with scruffy hair, bags under his eyes, 5 o’clock shadow, and nothing in his attire worth more than a hundred dollars. He’d been my doctor since I was a baby, he’s the one who stuck a popsicle stick in my mouth and had me say “Aaahhhhhh”, he’s the one who gave me suckers and stickers after shots, he took care of every flu and common cold I’d ever had, and here he was now. What did he think of me, after 18 years of watching me grow and fixing any health problems only to see me now attempt to end it all? Before I could thank him or apologize he was out the door and headed back to his bed and lonely wife.

Soon after getting my suicide status quo a doctor came rushing through with door with what looked like a value-sized tube of toothpaste and made a beeline straight to me. “Here, you need to swallow this now. It’s been too long to be able to vomit it out, and this is the only way to clear your system of the deadly amount of drugs you put into your system. This is charcoal; it’s going to bind with all of the molecules of medicine you swallowed to prevent it from being absorbed by your body and causing serious damage. In about 4 hours the clumps of charcoal combined with the medication will come out in your BMs. It tastes terrible and looks terrible, but I figured you’d prefer it to the only other option of sliding a tube up your colon and vacuuming the pills out.”

It didn’t sound like too much fun, but I had failed at death, they caught me, and there had to be consequences. Not to mention I wasn’t too fond of the idea of them forcing a Dyson up my ass. I took the mysterious tube, noticed the “7oz” label, figured it couldn’t be so bad and unscrewed the cap unveiling the unholy abyss that lie inside containing a pitch black paste with the same consistency of a shit from a Chihuahua halfway between diarrhea and a turd. 7 ounces might as well have been 7 gallons, this was the type of shit that not even Lindsey Lohan would want to have all over her chest.

After realizing that swallowing some black shit was better than losing my penetration-of-the-butthole virginity, I slammed my eyes shut, tilted my head back and squeezed the entire tube into my mouth. I never took the name “charcoal” into account until I tasted it, I just assumed that it was some clever label given to a medical elixer. The taste was something similar to that of a piece of pool cue chalk dipped in a giant tub of fondue consisting of everything inside every ashtray in the state of Wisconsin, Great Aunt Betty poured in from her urn, the exhaust from an 18-wheeler, and a dash of char scraped off a metal grill after a smoky BBQ. Hoping to down the whole thing with a smile and come off as a badass, I instead started to gurgle, gauge, and involuntarily regurgitate. My cheeks swelled up attempting to contain it and either side of my mouth began dripping black goo until two streams formed flowing down my chin, jaw, and neck. While exerting every possible bit of willpower I could muster I took a massive gulp and managed to hold down what was left.

“Okay, good, but you lost a lot of it. Let’s try this.” He took a scissors and cut along the side and the bottom of the tube, unraveling it into a metallic foil rectangle covered with the black substance. He grabbed a Dixie cup from by the sink, formed a cone inside of it with the tube, and used a scalpel to scoop every last drop of charcoal into it. “Here ya go, hopefully this will be enough. Thank you for your cooperation.”

“Good. Now take these, you might want to clean up. And since you’re 18, we couldn’t legally allow your parents in here without your permission; they are in the waiting room. Would you like to let them in?”

“What!? Of course.” He handed me a moist toilette and a hand mirror. I wiped all the charcoal off my neck and face, and then looked into the mirror and smiled. Dear Lord, there was black shit stuck in every single crevice of my teeth, and my tongue and gums were tinted gray. I quickly closed my mouth and tried to forget what I just saw until I could get to some water or a toothbrush. My parents walked through the door, both hunched over with their arms around each other, both crying, the first time in my life I’d ever seen my dad cry. In that moment I forgot all about my nudity, my teeth, the taste lingering in my mouth, the hospital, the doctors, the nurses and felt my heart drop deep into my stomach, turn to ice, and shatter into a million pieces. And not because of the lithium.

Half of me wanted to grab a shotgun and finish the job, save them from the cunt son that couldn’t possibly be the result of their sacred unity. The other half of me wanted to rip out the IV and wires, run over to them and hug them both with every ounce of energy I had. Apologize for everything, tell them that I don’t deserve them, tell them it wasn't their fault. I wanted to work my damndest from that moment on at being the best son and brother possible, start giving them money for all of my medical bills, take over cleaning the litter box, picking up the dog shit, doing the laundry, I’d start going to church with them every Sunday again, and most important of all I’d put family above OCD and eat dinner without going apeshit on my dad for chewing with his mouth open, burping, or licking his fingers. I needed to earn at least a fraction of the right to call them my parents and to live in their house. But somehow I knew that no matter what these drastic changes could never be achieved, I was a selfish piece of shit and would remain so .

“Tyler… did we fail you?" Her voice was a soft whimper, a somber tone that took the remaining pieces of my broken heart and put them each to the cheese grater. " We love you so much, why did you do this?”

“Mama, you didn’t fail me. You’re the best parents ever. I failed you. And… it’s complicated. I’m so sorry Mama.”

“Tyler, I know I’m not in your life that much, and I’m sorry for that. Mom hasn’t, but I really have failed you as a father and I truly am sorry. But thankfully we found you in time, you’re alive and maybe we can work on our relationship and eventually become buddies. Listen, I really really want to be here with you but I need to go now, I have to leave for work in an hour. I love you so much Tyler, always remember that, and I’ll be praying for you all day. Goodbye, I love you.”

“I love you too Daddy. I’m sorry for treating you like crap. Bye.” My mom and everyone else had been telling me my entire life, but for some reason it took me until that moment to finally understand that my father was a truly amazing man. The big house, the clothes, the pets, the shoes, the TVs, the videogames, the computers, Amy and Timmy’s college and cars. We lived rich but my dad, bringer of the bacon didn’t have a white collar job, didn’t have a high paying job, he didn’t even go to college. But he loved me and my family so much that he refused to not give us the best, refused to deny any of us our dreams, and refused to have anything less than the biggest fucking Christmas’ imaginable. Therefore he had three blue collar, manual labor backbreaking jobs he worked from 3 am to 11 pm every day except Sunday when he had either band practice, band concerts, or lead worship at a church. I sunk into my bed while recollecting the countless fights I started with him for walking around barefoot or being just a little bit crabby from his lack of sleep. But, as always I was destined to remain the prick I was and my adoration for the man soon became hatred when I overheard him talking with my mom while she stepped back to say goodbye to him.

“Eileen, he is not going to be fine. He needs to get admitted to a hospital and evaluated. What will happen if he gets off this time? Tomorrow he might swallow five hundred pills and hide in the forest where we can’t find him alive, or try to get the neighbor's gun. Think about our house: cords, rope, bathtub, tons of knives, saws, hammers, drills, who knows what he’ll find and want to use. He’s sick and he needs help. I don’t know, you know him better than I do, you do whatever you want.”

The doctor walked up to me and started talking, preventing me from hearing my mom’s side of the disagreement. “Alright, good news Tyler, a room up at the ICU just opened up, and everything here looks stable so we’ll transport you upstairs, but first someone would like to speak with you.” A colossal, husky sheriff with a massive handlebar mustache walked up to me very cool, calm, collected, and put his hands on his hips.

“Mornin’, my name is Deputy Hanson of the Dodge County Sheriff’s Department. What were you trying to do here, son? I’ve seen far too many young kids throw their lives away over some little gripe. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you, why would you go and do a thing like this? Girl problems? Kids picking on you at school? Tell me something, do your parents abuse you in any way?” Asshole. I took a moment and tried to recollect as much as I could from The Royal Tenenbaums, Thirteen, Wristcutters, Harold and Maude, The Virgin Suicides, Full Metal Jacket and came up with the most stereotypical suicidal answer possible.

“Well officer, I am bullied awful bad at school, I asked this pretty girl out and she said no, I’m failing all my classes, I don’t have any money or friends, I’m 18 and still a virgin, my OCD is real bad, and… this one time I saw this kid’s arm snap in half and I’m still kind of haunted by it.”

“Well son, none of those things are worth ending a life over, and it’s deputy, not officer. A lot of people have it a lot worse and you don’t see them trying to kill themselves. If it were up to me I’d put you in handcuffs and take you out to a cell in the county jail for a week or two where we know you can’t harm yourself, and legally since you’re 18 now we could do that. But lucky for you you’ve got some people in your corner who are looking out for you. I’m going to go now, but listen to me: there are cameras all over this hospital and they can see every move you make, and if you try to escape they will call me, I will come down here and I promise you I won’t be as nice as I am now. You will get locked up in a tiny cell with just a cot and toilet, no soap or sink, I know you wouldn’t like that. And then I’d see if we couldn’t charge you with something. Got it? So don’t get any ideas and do as the doctors say. Now I have to go prevent robberies and assaults that you just distracted me from. Good luck to you, hope you learned a lesson.”

“Okkaaay. Looks like we can go up to the ICU now.” Three nurses came to join the doctor and the four of them unplugged everything, grabbed all the machines, the EKG machine still attached to my chest and began pushing the bed and wheeling the IV out of the emergency room. My mom joined us in the hallway and remained at my side the rest of the way. We went down the hall, through automatic doors and into an elevator the size of a small motor home. It was like a first-person view of a TV medical drama, and was kind of fun. As fun as fun can be while being a suicide atemptee. When the bell rang for the second floor they wheeled me down a hallway filled with rooms until we reached my room: 350. Great number, and I viewed it as a change of fate. While peering into the other rooms on the journey I was surprised to find that none of the other patients appeared to be under 70. I was halfway hoping that I’d come across another suicide failure, a hot, young thing who’s destiny was bound to mine with whom I would share sob stories throughout the night with and maybe even make kinky love while scooting through the MRI machine.

After plugging in various confusing machines and computers making various sounds, everyone left, leaving me alone with my mom. The room was tiny, but very nice and resembled a hotel room with sponged green walls, oak ceiling trim, and a flat screen TV. “Tyler, why’d you do it? Is it something at school, or with girls? What about friends?”

“I don’t have any friends Mama, none. I don’t know. A lot of things that just built up. I miss Timmy, a lot. He was the only thing I had in my life that let me be social. He’s only an hour away, but he never comes. And yeah girls, mainly girls, but you wouldn’t understand.”

“Tyler. We’ve been over this. Timmy’s an adult now, he has his own life in Milwaukee, he makes his own decisions, and he decided…"She starts a deep inhale "he decided to forget all about his family and replace it with friends."Followed by a long, exasperating exhale. "You think I like that? No, I hate it too, but there’s nothing we can do. Tell me about girls. I’ll try my best, I mean, after all, I’m a girl, hah.”

“I don’t know Mama. I don’t know how to describe it without just sounding shallow, horny, like a pervert, like my hormones are crazy, or like I just want to have sex or see some boobies, it’s not like that at all.”

“Then what is it like?”

“Mama. I don’t know. I’m lonely. No, I’m something 5 billion times more than what lonely means, something they don’t even have a word for. I don’t have any guy friends either, but it’d still be exactly the same even if I did. I’m a hopeless romantic, I'm Bohemian, it’s impossible to explain but it needs to be a girl. And that’s where everyone starts thinking, “oh, this kid just wants some pussy” but no, it’s not like that at all, girls are just… better. Sure, it’d be nice to get that kiss but that’s not what I need. I just need a girl to be friends with that I could hug. Like I swear to god even if I became best friends with Jessica Alba, I wouldn’t try anything and wouldn’t even look at her in that way unless she wanted me to. Everyone is just like “dude, they’re just chicks” or “she’ll come eventually” or “just watch porn and jerk off” but no, none of that does any good. They are not just chicks, they are everything that is good and holy in this world, and yes she might come eventually but I need her NOW, I needed her two days ago to come and save my life, and I’m not going to look at porn because it’s wrong, degrading, does terrible things to the image of what a woman is, and touching myself is just gross, disgusting, and wrong.”

“I’m sorry honey. I know you can’t see it now, but the one who’s right will come eventually, and when she does waiting 18 years will be nothing, she’ll be so perfect that you would have gladly waited 500 years in hell just to have her. I’ll keep praying for you and this subject. It’s going to get better Tyler. But I’m exhausted, I’m going to try to sleep in this chair. Wake me if you need anything. Goodnight, I love you.” She pulled her jacket up around her shoulders, crossed her legs and shimmied her hands warmly between her thighs.

“Goodnight Mama, I love you.” She was truly a goddess.

I took a deep breath and she started putting all of my clothes I had on into the closet when another nurse came in to welcome us before she could even try falling asleep. “Hello, you must be Tyler! My name is Bob, and I’m the head nurse tonight. My only job is to make sure that your stay here is as comfortable as possible. Is there anything I can get for either of you?”

“Well, I’m kind of starving.”

“Right! Of course! The kitchen is closed until breakfast at 7 but I’ll see if I can find you something, and I’ll bring a few glasses of water.” "Thank you." He left and the room was silent for ten minutes until his return when both of us were deep in thought. He handed me a Styrofoam cup of water and a ham and butter sandwich. I lifted the bun up to see a half-inch thick slice of ham with lines of white fat running throughout. I would have rather eaten an elephant dick but Bob was nice and didn’t have to get me anything, so I took a bite, smiled, and muttered “thank you.”

“Excuse me, do you know anything that’s going to happen?” While he turned to address my mother’s question I frantically spit out the lump of ham sandwich into the puke basket beside the bed.

“No, ma’am, they don’t tell me much of anything around here, haha. All I know is that they want to do an ultra sound in the morning. Yep, all I need to worry about is if the patients are happy. But I can tell you interestingly enough that there has been an increased number of people we get in here that attempted suicide. Sad, really. Although females are usually the ones who swallow pills, males more often go the route of cutting themselves or something more along those lines. Well, anyway, you two need some rest, goodnight!” He left the room, and while starting to get pissed that he just called me a Nancy for not trying to kill myself in a more grizzly fashion, I remembered that Marshall Bruce Mathers III also swallowed a handful of pills in a suicide attempt when he was my age that also resulted in a trip to the ER, and anything that The Real Slim Shady did could never be viewed as Nancy.

“Mama, tell me what’s going on, do I get to go home soon?”

“Well, after talking a lot with Dr. Green and Dr. Josey we all feel that you can handle outpatient care, so hopefully. But it’s ultimately up to the doctors here.”

“Alright, thank you. Goodnight, I love you.” The second time I said it, and often OCD had me say it to my parents many more times before I could sleep at night. A robber might jump in their window at night and spray them down in their sleep with an AK-47, North Korea could drop an A-Bomb on Wisconsin, they could take a trip in the night and drive off of a cliff, or millions of other horrible things could happen while I lay asleep, and if they did I could always have the peace of mind for the rest of my life knowing that the last thing I ever said to my mom or dad was not something from a stupid, insignificant fight or talking about some dumb movie, but were “Goodnight, I love you.” My motto, my insignia. She took the one extra blanket on top of the dresser, curled up in a ball and fell asleep almost instantly, still in her pajamas from when she found me on the bathroom floor. I looked in awe at the woman I got to call Mom, and then turned on the TV and watched SpongeBob until I fell asleep as well.

I woke up at 5 to something stuck in my ear and boobs dangling in front of my face like two luscious, fleshy speed bags levitating and bobbing up and down from the suspension of a white bra, so close I could have motorboated them. The two flawless beauties were almost completely visible under the loose V-neck scrubs a nurse was wearing while leaning in beside me, feeling my forehead. I closed my eyes and resisted until two seconds later when the temptation took over, I opened them back up and gazed in awe at the two Holy Grails hanging inches from my face. I would have given all my video games, my MacBook, and my left nut to have been able to vanish that white bra into oblivion and behold the heavenly treasures: her nips that lie beneath, even if I’d be blinded by the sight afterword. I started to hate myself, I felt terrible, like a pervert, but still I couldn’t look away. For me it wasn’t just about satisfying my teenage hormones’ thirst for flesh, they were interesting. It was like getting the chance to examine a recently discovered endangered species off the coast of the Congo.

You see, being raised in a Christian home and going to a small country elementary school, both of which condemning sex education caused my curiosities about the opposite sex to rise at an early age, and later in my life the promise to myself that I’d never watch or look at porno just grew those curiosities into a full-blown constant fascination of girls and exactly what the fuck they looked like under it all.

The cluttering of my stupid and simple mind began when I was seven at a family reunion when my cousin Scott told me that no, they did not put those two plastic lumps on my Princess Leia action figure's chest by accident, no they were not grenades, no they were not tumors, no Princess Leia did not have cancer, and yes, every woman I ever knew had them, they weren’t just wearing baggy shirts.

I was petrified to the point of tears a few years later while on vacation in Arizona when I witnessed a woman breastfeeding in public. Before I knew what was going on I thought some psychopathic lady was sitting on a public park bench, tanning her dirty pillows and was trying to covertly suffocate her baby with them at the same time. After I learned what was going on I was confused and didn’t know if girls had to squeeze out their milk daily like pee, if they could take a quick sip when they got parched, or if the things would pop if coming into contact with a thumbtack.

But the complications really began in fifth grade when Timmy told me that girls did not have penises, they had sort of... pita bread things. It took him three hours to convince me he wasn’t joking, and another hour to calm me down and stop my crying, reassuring me that they were born without them, nobody chopped them off. I was horrified at first, after solving the mystery of their lumpy chests I thought I had it all figured out, and now I was just learning something huge like they didn’t have wieners. I didn’t know if it was vertical or horizontal like a smiley face, if it was connected to their butts, how they peed, or if it needed to breath, but I didn’t care I just wanted to run up to my bed, curl up in the fetal position and never talk to my sister, mom or any girl ever again, they were like freaky, wienerless aliens.

I found some solace in hearing that girls still had butts and they didn’t have any other holes or body parts they were hiding, and after a while it started to make sense, but that didn't stop my fierce curiosity at hopefully catching a glimpse of the slippery devils. I did know babies came from when a guy and a girl hugged a lot inside a bed, after all my GameBoy never worked when I put the two double A batteries in with the two plus sides touching, it always had to go plus-minus.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I needed your temperature but didn’t want to wake you."The Mammary Siren says, "We did manage to get the EKG without waking you though.”

“What? Oh, That’s okay.” She leaned back and smiled at me. She was a brunette, tan-skinned, slender drop-dead gorgeous nurse in her early 20’s. My cheeks began to blush, I started to sweat, I couldn’t look at anything but the floor, and I started to ask myself the same question that Jim Carrey does in Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind: “Why do I fall in love with every woman I see who shows me the least bit of attention?”

“Morning! My name is Rachel, my shift is just starting. Your temperature looks good, I’ll be right back with the ultra sound. Hang in there kiddo!” Oh my God, I wanted to be nursed back to health by her for the rest of eternity. She was fine, and as she left the room my thoughts began to stir, conjuring up the always inevitable battle of contradictions between the two factions of my brain: the horny part that wanted to fuck anything that could walk, and the guilty part, the part that was disappointed in me because it knew I knew better, the part consisting of the last bit of Christianity I had left in me.

“Oh dear Lord, look at that ass. Quick, where’s a pencil, I need to “drop” it and get a better look at that baby. Pencil, pencil, pen, not on the desk, shit there’s nothing. Wait, what’s this pokey thing? Oh shit, it’s attached to the wall.”

“You pervert, why did God curse this planet by giving you a second chance? You should be in hell right now with the only possibility of any ass action in the form of being forced to give Adolf Hitler a shiny new rim job.”

“I wonder what her stomach looks like, I bet it’s sexy as fuck. I wonder what everything else looks like. Left hand totally bare, no rings. Her name is Rachel, like from the Bible, maybe she’s a virgin too! Ha, fat chance of that. She’s so damn hot she’s probably one of those new-age expert type people that treats sex like yoga, practicing three different positions four times a day.”

“You asshole. Don’t be so fucking shallow. Just because she’s attractive doesn’t automatically mean she knows her way around the shaft. And even if she would be nice enough to get with you, you wouldn’t deserve it. If you took the offer you’d be taking advantage of her, she deserves much, much better than you. And the only person you deserve is yourself, you pitiful selfish bastard fuck.”

“Ooooo, I wonder if she does physicals. Maybe she does, maybe she could give me one, and then maybe she’d let me return the favor. Like Fight Club, you can never be too careful in the frequency of searches for breast lumps.”

“No. Listen to yourself, you sound just as bad as Howard Stern and every other womanizing prick you love so much to hate and point fingers at. Remember The Passion? Yeah, that’s exactly what you deserve you sick son of a bitch: To be kicked, beat up, spit on, laughed at, cut up, forced to carry your 200 pound splintery grave uphill barefoot on gravel for a few miles, whipped with shards of glass, have a bunch of razor sharp thorns jammed onto your head, penetrating your skull, nailed to a cross, put up in the air being held up by nothing but the tissue and muscle in your feet and hands, and then stabbed in the ribs with a spear. Except for the part where he stopped breathing. That’s a luxury you don’t deserve you perverted sick fuck, you deserve to linger in that last moment alive on the crucifix for five thousand years in the middle of all that pain and agony.”

And so on and so fourth.

In the midst of my attempt to make myself feel less bad about peeking at her jubblies and thinking lustful thoughts about her body, she came back into the room wheeling a machine I’d only ever seen in Juno.

“Alright, we need to do a scan of your heart to see how much damage the lithium did. This is going to be a bit chilly.” She rolled the machine over, and began unbuttoning my left shoulder sleeve. She pulled it down and started applying the cold blue gel. First I get a glimpse at her flawless breasts and now she was rubbing my man-boobs with the same stuff they use on pregnant women. Whipped cream and strawberries would have been one thing, but this was just embarrassing. I looked over to the black screen and saw a throbbing blob making a dull maw every time it expanded.

“Okay, here’s some towels to get that gunk off of you, I’ll go take the results back to the doctor.” I cleaned up my breasticles and buttoned my sleeve back up when another old, not-so-attractive nurse came in.

“Breakfast is in an hour, what do you want? Here’s a menu.” I skimmed through the variety of options, listing off what sounded good and she said they’d bring it up around 7. My mom remained silent for the next hour, perhaps second-guessing her parenthood or fishing for any missed clues she should have noticed that could have prevented this, and I day dreamed about the food to come. Finally, at 7:15 my breakfast had arrived: a cheeseburger, an omelet, hash browns, tapioca pudding, pancakes, French toast, a chocolate chip muffin, and grape juice. By 8 o’clock I was just finishing off the hash browns when the doctor who would decide my fate came in.

“Alright, Tyler, how are we doing today?”


“That’s good! Now, tell me about what happened as a result of this little event.”

“I have learned so much, doctor. I learned that there is so much to live for no matter how hard or bad life gets. I learned that I have been taking my parents and everything I have for granted, suicide is very selfish and if I would have died a lot of people would have been sad and missed me. This experience really has opened my eyes. I’ve changed so much.” The right answer, but not entirely the truth, just a ticket to discharge.

“Well, that’s great to hear! Now originally we wanted to send you to a mental hospital for a week or two, but we have been talking with your parents and your psychiatrist and psychologist and we all think that you have learned your lesson and are ready to go back into the world with outpatient treatment. You will start seeing Dr. Green once a week and Dr. Josey once a month until they decide otherwise. I’m glad we found you in time. We’ll discharge you at noon because we want a few more hours just to make sure that your heart and everything else remains stable.”

“Thank you so much, doctor!” I was a lucky son of a bitch, getting away scott-free, and managed to fall back to sleep until I was woken up by my mom at 11:45. She gave me my clothes and I realized that someone had taken out my IV and detached all of the wires while I was asleep. I made my mom close her eyes while I ran to the bathroom with my clothes in case of a wardrobe malfunction and shut the door. My legs felt a little odd and I had to end up leaning on the sink, I figured they had just fallen asleep. I looked at the “Pull for Help” rope hanging beside the toilet and laughed to myself at the thought of Rachel coming in and dressing me. I ripped off the wretched gown, jumped into my boxers and slid into my plaid shorts. My wiener was safe once again. I pulled on my shirt and my fat was covered once again. I slipped on my Jordans and left the bathroom to find another nurse waiting with a wheelchair.

“Mkay, your mom took care of the paper work and you are ready to get discharged, lets get you downstairs.”

I sat down and she pushed me all the way downstairs to the exit. I didn’t understand the use of the wheelchair until I got out and started walking towards the parking lot door. My legs were stiff and numb, and I was still drowsy from God knows how many different meds in my system, and the two resulted in the inability to walk five feet without wobbling, tripping, or stumbling. My mom rushed to my side and let me use her as a crutch until we reached the car. We both got situated in our seats, she started the car and the Christian radio station started playing. Normally I would have plugged my iPod in and prevented her from listening to what she wanted to, but this time, for some reason unknown to me I just let it play. A song started to play I had heard in the background hundreds of times before but never really listened to until then. I started picking apart every lyric, and while doing so my curiosity began to rise on a subject that had been cast out of my life for almost ten years: religion.

Little girl fourteen, flipping through a magazine
Says she wants to look that way
But her hair isn't straight her body isn't fake
And she's always felt overweight

Well little girl fourteen I wish that you could see
That beauty is within your heart
And you were made with such care your skin your body and your hair
Are perfect just the way they are

There could never be a more beautiful you
Don't buy the lies, disguises, and hoops they make you jump through
You were made to fill a purpose that only you could do
So there could never be a more beautiful you

Little girl twenty-one the things that you've already done
Anything to get ahead
And you say you've got a man but he's got another plan
Only wants what you will do instead

Well little girl twenty-one you never thought that this would come
You starve yourself to play the part
But I can promise you there's a man whose love is true
And he'll treat you like the jewel you are

So turn around you're not too far
To back away be who you are
To change your path go another way
It's not too late you can be saved
If you feel depressed with past regrets
The shameful nights hope to forget
Can disappear they can all be washed away
By the one who's strong can right your wrongs
Can rid your fears, dry all your tears
And change the way you look at this big world
He will take your dark distorted view
And with his light he will show you truth
And again you'll see through the eyes of a little girl

Cheesy, yes, but it seemed to be speaking a long lost truth. I thought maybe God really was what I needed all these years, but that start of an epiphany quickly vanished when the car turned into my cul-de-sac and my big blue home came into view. “Alright, you have the rest of today off to play video games or whatever you want but it’s back to school tomorrow. I’ll be home all day with you today if you need anything and to make sure you’re safe.

“Okay Mama, thanks.” I stepped out of the car onto the driveway, happy to see that my balance had restored during the trip back home. I took a deep breath, looked up to the bright blue sky, spread my arms out and took it all in, experienced the world in a way I never before had, in a way I never before could without having gone through what had just happened, exactly how Natalie Portman did after her eye-opening experience in V for Vendetta. After soaking in all of the beauty and atmosphere I walked inside and was instantly bombarded by kisses and whines from Juno and Cleo, as if they thought I had died. After settling them down I ran upstairs to my room, grabbed the first three seasons of Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, seasons five and six of The Cosby Show, came back down to the couch with Pip and Cleo, put the discs in and began my healing process. A healing process I thought I was at the high-tail end of, for I was still naïve, still green and unwise to the ways of Roger’slooming in the shadows.

This post first appeared on Tyler, Ink., please read the originial post: here

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Cola Diet Other CHAPTER IV: Phoenix REDUX


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