My Dying Wish

A brief scenario entailing my misfortunate encounter with being suicidal.

My Dying Wish

By Scott Thompson

 

            As I lie rather uncomfortably on the examination couch sutured together with black leather and wooden buttons, I face the painfully bright ceiling lights in dreadful anticipation. I fidget nervously, desperately trying to ignore the dreariness of the position I was in. I glanced at the ornate desk in the corner of the room and at the dusty decorative plants that seemed to be scattered everywhere as to add some sort of natural theme. The room was terribly frigid; however it possessed little impact on what was dwelling within my mind. My thoughts were swarmed with waves of guilt. All of my mistakes were re-playing through my mind: the intense sorrow, my overwhelming fears, and the thought of losing all that I have come to cherish and love. The clock on the wall seemed to waver and slow as I glared at it with such mal-intent for making me realize how long I must endure in this bleak silence. My skin began to creep into the sunken couch and at that point, my anxiety became almost unbearable. The world stood motionless as I anticipated the return of Dr. Weintrup, my psychiatrist. At last, a moment of splendor had arisen within me when I heard his voice boom from outside the door. He was speaking with his assistant. My excitement quickly transformed into a sudden sickness. My heart began to flutter with a nerved flux. I began to feel the beaded droplets drip from the length of my bangs. The immense pounding within my chest made my body seem as if it were trying to cage a colossal drum that would increase in tempo as the door had opened and he came closer and closer with each step. The moment was delayed even further as he slowly approached and stared down at his clipboard of notes. I could see that the talk he had prepared for me was bearing at his lips. Although he seemed to maintain a professional smile, it was perceptibly uncomfortable and almost crestfallen. I glanced upon his face as he turned away and mildly paced around to his desk where he grabbed his chair that had matching black leather and wooden buttons. He drew the chair up to where I was now sitting. He began with a brief greeting, even though the questions I had, singeing the inner lining of my brain, remained unasked and unanswered. But to my surprise, I was okay with how he began to approach the situation.

    “Hey Scott, how are you feeling today?”

    I sputtered the words in an act of impulse, “I am doing alright.”

    “That’s good. Now Scott, have you told your parents how you feel yet?”

            I looked down at the floor with shame. Having another human being privileged to my personal information was downright dreadful. At that moment I wished that I could vanish into the glacial ventilation vent and escape the seemingly awkward tension. I knew that I would have to tell my parents eventually, but the realization of actually following through with it seemed frightening. All the years of collected loss and struggle have brought me to the will of my own demise. My failures have become my lesson unending. My fears have driven me to a place of doubt and solitude. I willed myself a swift and painless death wish. I wanted to end my life. As of yesterday, that wish was only a mere fantasy that I could play in my head. My parents see me as a manic depressed soul looking for a new source of happiness. Little do they know that their perception wasn’t skin deep. I had told my psychiatrist that I attempted to end my life. The shame that I feel because of this wish made me want to commit to the same fate evermore. My psychiatrist was bent on figuring out why it was that I wished to end my own life.

 

   

    “No, I can’t tell them. They wouldn’t understand.”

    “You would be surprised how understanding a person could be when it involves someone they care about and love.” 

Later on that afternoon, right after the session had ended, I exited into the front office of the east side of the building. As I walked, my mind was seemingly blank. I walked through the empty lobby and down the square, swiveled staircase to the first floor. As I looked around the empty area, I spot my father waiting for me near the foyer. He looked to me and smiled brightly. I, then of course returned the smile, not sure what to think. We walked outside onto the cracked pavement. The weather was dark and it seemed as if it would rain. The air was thick and almost sweet. There was a surprisingly low amount of cars in the parking lot. I walked solemnly next to my father to our vehicle. I entered the passenger side and slowly fastened my seat-belt. He started the car and looked to me to see if I wanted to share anything that had happened to me today. I mildly turned my glance to the brown-stained dashboard and down to my trembling hands. As we began to drive, I looked outward to the scenery. As I peered at all the passing objects and people, everything began invoking my notice. I started noticing the trees. As I looked further and further, I noticed the grass on the sides of the pavement. As we neared to a stop, I could hear the rumbling of the cars around me. I could see the vibrant colors of the billboards. I could see enormous buildings and people walking. I could hear prairie dogs barking in the distance. I was in amazement at what I was sensing. My dad interrupted this moment in my life with a question.

    “What did Dr. Weintrup �"?”

            I tuned out of his question in sense of utter bewilderment. A similar way to describe how I currently felt could be how a child would feel when they discover the news that their parent has passed away. I suddenly felt like weeping. I had an overwhelming sense of awareness. The bitter realization that, I would be leaving behind everything. I would leave behind a world of beauty and love. The words of my psychiatrist made sense to me. This feeling felt like it hit me with the force of a heavy brick. I was mortified and sick to my stomach. I looked at him confused as to what he was saying and felt like I was in an inescapable daze that was spinning in a continuous circle. I then began to hurl on the carpet beneath my feet. I could now look back and say that my morning breakfast secretly had a roundtrip ticket. We were finally home and I wanted to lie down. My dad insisted that I receive medical attention, but at every offering I refused. This was no ordinary illness. I felt a guilt stronger than any other that I have ever experienced. I hurriedly stumbled my way into my room and lied down on my bed, not even caring to shut my door. I hadn’t the strength to stand and close it, for I was stricken with crippling levels of contrite. I knew in my heart that leaving my friends and family behind would create even more suffering at the expense of ending my own. I know now that ending my life would have been for naught. Had I chosen to fulfill my selfish desire, I wouldn’t have known what it would have felt like to live and experience my true intent and purpose.

  

             I woke up on my bed feeling empty and cold. I wasn’t sure what I was doing or where I was going. I instinctively went upstairs to the dining area because it had become evening already. I noticed my younger sister setting up the table and looking to me with delight.

    “Scotty! You’re awake. How are you doing? Dad said you threw up in the car.”

    “Yeah, I am alright. Just a little bit dizzy.” I said wearily.

            My mother and father had finished placing everything on the table by the time I returned from washing my hands. The table seemed to be full of food as if we were celebrating some sort of occasion. I sat down in my usual place and as if some ghost had pulled me away from my conscious body, I was able to see what I was doing and how I reacted to the conversations passed around the table. I began to appreciate the things I had taken advantage of. My mother began to speak about one of her friends that had recently been diagnosed with cancer. I knew this person she spoke of. She was the bank teller at the family’s federal credit union. I never knew her actual name, I always referred to her as BB. (BB was forty six when she passed. She was diagnosed terminal and was said to live three months. She only lived forty four days after she was initially diagnosed with malignant brain cancer.) After dinner, I was dead silent. I piously did all of the dishes. As I filled the sink to wash, I thought about what BB must have been feeling. Her diagnosis with a possible death. I longed to somehow alleviate her and take away her illness. As I neared the end of my current task, I felt waves of guilt.

            Within the next few months, I felt displaced and afraid. With the news of BB’s death, I couldn’t help but wonder what impact she had on all of us. Her loss resounded not just within her own family, but all throughout people that knew her. After the day of her funeral service, I imagined myself in her coffin. I didn’t like the thought her fighting to live when I so willingly wanted to end my own life. I began to become aware of what an injustice had been performed. She deserved to live and had her life robbed by illness. This realization made me feel petty and angry that I would wish for something like that. From that point on I rationalized my desire for death with the struggles of others who were fighting to stay alive. I felt I had no right to make such a truncated choice.

In the waning days that followed, I began to realize a value within my own life. I asked myself the questions that every human asks when putting human existence into a reasonable thought. I looked to why life was precious to me.

            It had been months since my appointment with Dr. Weintrup and today was the first day of summer. I woke up and began my daily activities. As I walk outside to my backyard, I casually grab a glass of water on the way. I walk across the rickety wooden deck to the stairs that lead down to the grass. On my way down, I stop and rest on the shaded stairs. I look up to see my sister’s bedroom. Her tarnished window was sealed shut. It was early, and she is also on her summer break, so she is presumably still asleep. I close my eyes and feel the cooling wind upon my face. I began to question if I still longed for death, or if that part in my life still existed. I was for the most part happy. I pondered as to what made me feel happy. I came to recall a euphemism that could possibly explain why people were happy. “Life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react to it.” I decided to entertain the notion. In my life, there have been extremely saddening aspects that have drawn me to low points. Be it, deaths, failures, or a simple lack of importance in. Each event, I have reacted normally. I know now, that I let myself become depressed. I chose to react negatively. It fed me a sort of stimulus, but at the very same time, pushed me to a place of doubt and sadness. I look to the events currently and feel that I should not decide to waste my life. The key realization that I have come to understand is that we are granted one life here on earth. Life’s grand design is to challenge and place obstacles in our paths and our job, as part of being alive, is to make a better understanding and live with the ups and downs. Not everything, that I have experienced so far, stays low for very long. I have learned to adapt to life’s challenges.

            As I recall the visit with my psychiatrist, I am, admittedly, enormously frightened of how close I had come to an avoidable death. In my growth as a human being, I have determined that my fate should be left to something other than myself. I should endure life with a passion. However, I am almost glad that I have experienced a near death experience because it made me realize what value and meaning life has. Life is beautiful and has so much to offer; my only dying wish would be that everyone would see it in its true light and value every day that’s given.

Reviews

[.Em.]

I love this!... I loves how you started very vivid... and the ending was perfect!

[TLK]

"I chose to react negatively."

As a psychologist, I would dispute that.