// the scariest day, 6-26-03, part 2
| 06/27/2003 - 10:48 a.m. |

11:35pm--How dumb I was 5 hrs ago. Believing the worst was over?!

It unbelievably got infinitely worse, infinitely scarier.

So I finished the IV, blood test came back just fine...

but D!!!!, that hypocritical fucking can't-come-up-with-a-name-thats-not-too-good-for-her, pushed to have me hospitalized anyway. Didn't even ask to speak with ME either for the record.

So Mr.-aw-shucks doc comes to tell me this. I burst into disbelieving tears. He goes off having told me he'll try and see if I can talk to the !@#$%.

Mr. Nursey comes by to take out the fucking IV and says, oh, doc is already filling out the 5150.

OH MY FUCKING GOD.

He leaves. I pull my freaking self together, glance out into the hallway, walk quickly and as-casually-as-possible out the door, and make a run for it.

To my car, drive home, run around like a maniac grabbing my dear Tweety and a few other essentials, throw it all in the car, and I'm off again.

To where I have no idea, but where the cops can't find me. 3000 miles to my mom? Ok, well just head east--get out of this damn state. Oh fuck, just get out of the county--have to call mom, let her know I'm ok, especially because who knows who the hell has already called her.

I've got a bunch of messages on my cell, but the battery is low and hell, I can never get any reception on the useless thing besides.

I stop at a mall to use a pay phone. Can't find my wallet! Apparently managed to leave it flung on the bedroom floor in my mad dash.

Finally figure out a way to get through a call to mom. Are you sure the cops are looking for you?? Sounds ridiculous I know, but who'd believe they'd be showing up in my doc's office this afternoon?

Thank you *someone*, she is genuinely on my side, promises me I can trust her, she will not let them do this to me. I know she is scared, worried about my safety, medical and otherwise, and doesn't understand any number of things about this present insane predicament nor the full ugliness of what I've been going through lately. But she GETS that this is just so very WRONG.

Even with her backup, I still wanted to hide out in a motel room for the night, but still can't find my wallet, so I head back to my house. I had only gotten a 1/2 hr or so on the highway.

Checking everywhere for cop cars. Creep in like a burglar, turn on only a light not visible from outside. Yes, wallet is in bedroom. I toss it in backpack, still ready to run if need be.

Start checking my voice messages, a bunch from earlier in the day, including a few from J., but I skip through without listening.

The last 2 are from D. and the BPD. Hospital just called and said you left, oh this must be so terrible for you (PUKE!), the cops will indeed be looking for you, call me at home, blah gag blah. Yes, we're out looking for you. You can just call and tell us you're ok and want us to stop--yeah, I'm gonna believe that! as I huddle out of sight of windows and every little sound is of someone coming to get me.

Call mom. I told you the cops are looking for me. I'm a fucking fugitive of unspecified lunacy. I give her the #s, she gets the "case" closed with the PD--I'd been declared a fucking missing person, officers in every town in the county and at transit stations looking for me. Lets D. know I'm ok or whatever.

I so don't give her nearly enough credit for all the ways and times she World Series-game 7-bottom of the 9th-2 outs-GRAND SLAM comes through for me.

We talk for a while more, she wants me to get the right help, feel better, we'll start figuring it all out tomorrow. Well, today has certainly done nothing to give me the least bit of hope towards that, and it's fully crushed my trust in D., the entire medical profession way more than ever before, and pretty much any and every person in the entire universe save her. But I just tell her thank you and I love you as many times and as heartfully as I can. Due to my hero, at least I can sleep in my own bed with my tweety, in my own cage maybe, but not like a brainless, humanless animal in someone else's.

Had a CIB for her. Oh yeah, still haven't broken my (liquid) fast. Some pretty pathetic irony, eh.--6-27-03, 1:03am