A Glass of Water - Memoir (and)

I filled a glass of water to the brim, and then carefully walked to my bedroom and rested the glass on the bedside table. I lay on the bed and stared at the brand new bottle of five hundred generic aspirin, the bottle of Sine Off and the allergy medication. It was not much to work with, but I figured it would do the trick.

I hadn’t prayed in about six months, so I figured now would be a good time. God and I had been strangers since the end of my sophomore year. Somewhere in my own anger, I decided there was no meaning. It was all nothing, a big black void. Since there was no God, why should I care? Why should I be nice? What difference did it make if I cursed?

My junior year of high school should have been better. I was on the varsity cross country team, but lost to teammates I had beaten last year. I trained hard over the summer, but my job with the Natural Resources department, coupled with the training, had taken its toll. My legs just didn’t have their natural speed. Things weren’t coming together. And there was this girl I didn’t have the nerve to ask out. I hated my shyness; I hated myself. I couldn’t live with myself. I said quietly, “God, I am sorry. When I am dead, I hope you’ll forgive me.”

I popped some Sine Off pills into my mouth. I opened the aspirin, took out the cotton, and poured a handful into my right hand. The sharp bitter taste almost made me gag. I quickly drank a large swig of water to wash them down. They dissolved into a pasty sour soup. I picked up the glass and gulped more water, lay down, and waited.

My curtains were open, and an elm tree stood outside the window. Most of its autumn leaves were dead and withered on the grass below. The remaining brown and dull yellow leaves hung onto the tree. Slowly the light faded and the tree disappeared into the dark. The glowing red numbers on the clock showed an hour had passed, and I felt no different. I turned on the bedside lamp, opened the aspirin bottle and poured out another handful, and finished off the water. The wretched taste. I got some more water and repeated the same procedure, except this time I added the allergy pills.

Time went by. I felt groggy, but it was not working. Dying was not quick. I decided I needed to finish the whole bottle, but the taste made me retch so badly I had to spit some out, and I was out of water again. I needed water.

Mother told father to slow down as they drove me to the hospital. I lay on the cool back seat feeling nauseous. The doctors and nurses demanded answers.

What did you take?

Do you want to go up stairs and be hooked up to a machine?

How much do you take?

I didn’t know, I just wanted them to leave me alone. They gave me some medicine, and later I had this terrible feeling I was going to vomit, which I did, right in my bed. I apologized to the nurse. The next time I made it to the bathroom.

I woke up hours later in a hospital room with a view of a blank wall. I was strapped into my bed and had an IV attached to my arm. I drifted in and out. My mother asked why I had done it, and I turned my head and ignored her. The nurses kept taking blood tests to monitor the aspirin. Dr. Lester, our family doctor, who lived across the street from our house, came into check on me during his morning rounds.

“Oh wild Bill,” he said with a smile. “How are you doing today?”

“Fine.”

“You aren’t still taking aspirin, are you?”

“Oh no,” I assured him.

He wanted to know because the levels had continued to rise. He told me a story about how his father was in the hospital, and the staff was confused as to why he had so much aspirin in his blood stream, until they figured out he had a bottle of aspirin in the night stand next to his bed. Then Dr. Lester asked me what happened.

I spun a story about how I got confused because I was taking medication for my hay fever, and antibiotics for my acne, and then calcium because I wasn’t eating dairy. I got them out of order, that’s all. He listened sympathetically and asked if I’d mind taking a test in a day or so. There wouldn’t be any grade, just a test that I would have to complete all in one sitting.

The next day I sat and wondered what everyone at school would say? I wanted to get up and go to cross county practice and pretend it never happened. It felt strange to be in bed while it was sunny outside.

A day later a nurse brought in a test, which I took on an upright table. It was just like a formal test at school, I had to use a Number 2 Pencil and fill in the circles, except the questions were to determine if I was crazy. I did about half of the test and tossed it aside. A nurse came in and said, “You can’t stop. You have to finish it.” I went back to the stupid test and read the dumb questions. True or False, Is there a burning sensation on top of your head? True or False, Are your hands cold? And I thought, no, my head’s fine and so are my hands. Then a question would be repeated two pages later. I began to wonder, am I consistent? Am I saying the right things? Will they lock me up?

The psychiatrist came next. He had dark hair and a serious expression. By the time he arrived, I had this terrible ringing in my ears. He sat next to my bed.

“How is school?”

“What?”

“How is school?”

“Fine.”

“Are you getting along with your classmates?”

“What?”

“Your classmates, are you getting along with your friends at school?”

“Oh yeah.”

“How are things with your family?”

“What?”

Irritated, he said, “Do you always say what after each question?

“There is this ringing in my ears.”

“That’s the aspirin. It will stop after awhile. How are things with your family?”

“Fine.”

And so the conversation went, for a long time. I lied. I just wanted to go home and go for a long run.

After three days, they unhooked the IV. My mother and father asked if I wanted anything. I asked for some real food, like fresh fruit. The hospital Jell-O and potatoes were dull. We couldn’t say much, we didn’t know how. We’re not an emotional family. This was something that was not understood by me or them.

I left the hospital in a wheelchair, which I found embarrassing, but it was hospital policy. It had been five days since I had been outside. When the orderly rolled me out of the door and onto the sidewalk, I wanted to get up out of the chair and bolt across the parking lot. It was sunny, and I saw the trees, and the leaves were down. Everything was bare.

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