Sometimes you just have to stop and bitch about the roses.
6 months later...
I have been debating how to resume blogging, how to explain what I have been through, in a clever and creative way. But I have been unable to. Block. So I've decided to plainly state the facts and put it behind me. Than I can deal with what is ahead.
September 6th, 2004 I was taken to St. Vincent's Hospital. I was at a party, accepted a dose of GHB in spite of the fact I had been trying to stay away from the "Gay Partying Culture", and that dose turned out to be more than I could deal with. I passed out, vomited and aspirated my vomit, causing a lung failure. By the time I got to the hospital I could not breath on my own, was put in a ventilator and under an induced coma that lasted 2 months. I've been told that in several instances my chances of survival were minimal.
The next 4 months were spent in a hospital bed. Recovering.
Today I was discharged from Physical Therapy. The last session was a stroll in the park outside the hospital (Goldwater in Roosevelt Island). It's a beautiful sunny day in spite of the fact it is the middle of February. Hopefully I will be leaving the hospital by the end of this week.
And that's that.
At least, in general lines, for now. I'm sure I'll address all of it but for right now I just needed to state the facts and move forward.
I have been debating how to resume blogging, how to explain what I have been through, in a clever and creative way. But I have been unable to. Block. So I've decided to plainly state the facts and put it behind me. Than I can deal with what is ahead.
September 6th, 2004 I was taken to St. Vincent's Hospital. I was at a party, accepted a dose of GHB in spite of the fact I had been trying to stay away from the "Gay Partying Culture", and that dose turned out to be more than I could deal with. I passed out, vomited and aspirated my vomit, causing a lung failure. By the time I got to the hospital I could not breath on my own, was put in a ventilator and under an induced coma that lasted 2 months. I've been told that in several instances my chances of survival were minimal.
The next 4 months were spent in a hospital bed. Recovering.
Today I was discharged from Physical Therapy. The last session was a stroll in the park outside the hospital (Goldwater in Roosevelt Island). It's a beautiful sunny day in spite of the fact it is the middle of February. Hopefully I will be leaving the hospital by the end of this week.
And that's that.
At least, in general lines, for now. I'm sure I'll address all of it but for right now I just needed to state the facts and move forward.
