Kevin's Story by Kevin S (librera reader txt) 📕

the whiskey. After a short while I started to fall asleep, I was ready to go. There was no doubt in my mind that this was what I wanted. My wife got this feeling that she had to get home now! She left early and came straight home; the plan had been for her to go the store, after work. She found me just barely breathing; in fact I stopped on the way to the hospital. I was in ICU for three days before I came around, I was not happy; I had taken my final step in making my pain stop.
After wards I made promises to Michele (the ex) that I wouldn’t do it again. I never tried it again, but I gave up on everything, My life was going to be full of pain and there wasn’t shit I could do about it. So I just gave up, on everything. I just didn’t want to care about anything. After that my drinking really started to get bad, why try to control it. It didn’t take long before we were both on the streets, just a couple of months. After a few weeks on the street Michele found a room she could rent, they told her I wasn’t allowed to be there... So I stayed on the streets, working day labor when I was not too sick And getting paid at the end of the day. First stop the liquor store, for a bottle and some cigs was all set to stay drunk for the next couple of days. I would give Michele money when I had some. But I would run out of money and booze, and go back to the day labor, repeat for the next couple of years. I would go into find work so sick from withdrawals; I would be sneaking off to throw up.
I found out somewhat later that Michele was fucking the landlord, no wonder he didn’t want me around. I found out about it, and my dumb-ass took her back. But she didn’t move out of the house. I had gotten angry and had beaten the shit out of the guy. He was bigger, younger, and sober, But I still kicked his ass downstairs, he ran up to his room. He then started to talk about, not giving the old drunk, me, a break if I didn’t leave the house. I took that as a challenge, so up the stairs I went. Michele was yelling in my ear to stop, I’m not sure who she was trying to protect. Any way I kicked his door down and then kicked ass down the stairs again, out of the door he went. Again Michele was yelling for me to get out, that I had screwed up her place to live, and sure as hell she was not joining me on the streets. I left.
For your information, homeless in the winter in Wisconsin really sucks. I would stay in the men’s shelter when I could and when I could stand it, it smelled very badly in there. But you could only stay in the shelter for 45 days per year. So I slept outside in the winter, where I slept, I was at least protected from, the snow, wind. But not the cold.
After about a year and a half, my Aunt tracked me down. She knew what I was, but still would not let me stay on the streets, so she put me up in a very cheap hotel. I was warm and dry; I even had a TV to stare at while drinking... Now Michele wanted to move in with me, I had a place to live. I let myself be convinced that she had been with the landlord, so that she had a place to live. And how much better a lover I was and what a little dick he had, and she wanted nothing more in this world than for us to get back together. FYI, it was not the first time I had caught her. You must remember that I was the lowest piece of shit on earth; I knew very well what I was.
Anyway I took her back. Because I’m sure you know, any love is better than no love,
We were in the motel for about six months, really just drinking.
One night we were working on a 1.75l of vodka. About 9-9:30 I fell asleep, not pass out for a change, she kept drinking.
About 1:30 am she decided that I had to die, why? She claims long term abuse, I don’t remember ever hitting her, but I don’t remember a lot of things from that time so I couldn’t argue. She grabbed a steak knife, 6” serrated, and open me up from the sternum to my belly button, before I got my eyes opened and focused, she had stabbed me in the left side of the chest, As I reached for her arm I felt the stab in the left again, but this one I heard/felt the blade grate off my rib. I don’t how, but she got me one more time, before I got a grip on her arm. Then she switched hands, and before I could react had buried It into the right side. This one seemed to happen in slow motion. I saw her arm coming down I felt the blade sink in, no pain, and the worst part I could hear the air hissing out of my lung. She got me twice more on the right side, before I threw her off. She hit the end table, I hit the floor. Somehow I had the knife, in my hand. She took it away from me and started to stab me in the back. I was begging for her to stop. After 3-6 more wounds she did stop, I didn’t have the air to yell for help. This part is almost funny, smart ass to the end, I looked at her and asked if she was going to watch me die or was she going to call me an ambulance, I’ll never forget the look on her face, it was blank.
She sat there for a few seconds, then got up and left the room. As she left I lost color vision, I heard her dial 911 then all sound became garbled, I laid there for who knows, seemed like a long time to me. When she came back into the room, everything started to go black, like going backwards down a tunnel. I had enough time to think I’m going to die. My last thoughts were “oh shit here we go”.
I woke up, sort of, two days later in ICU I remember screaming, with a nurse holding my hand and making calming sounds. I have no idea what she may have said; I had no idea where I was. I didn’t know what had happened; I just knew I had to scream. I don’t know if they did anything but I sank back under in just seconds. I really came awake 3-4 days later, still in ICU. I was still very confused but it started to come back. I started to freak out. Again There was a nurse holding my hand and trying to calm me. I wasn’t awake for more than a few minutes, and off I went again.
The time after I died and the time I woke is a small story in and of it’s self. I have talked to everyone I could about it, I just had to know.
When the police got there, they thought I was dead so they went into homicide mode. Then I moved and they freaked. I was in such bad shape that a police officer drove the ambulance. The EMTs were busy trying to plug holes and get air into me, by the time they got me to the ER, both lungs had collapsed.
When they drove me away the police left at the scene were sure I would never make it to the hospital... When I did make it there, the EMT and the nurses thought I would never make it out of surgery. I don’t know what the doctors thought.
When they took Michele to detox, yes where I now work. They told the nurse on duty to keep a close watch on her because she was going up on first degree murder charges.
Any way back to the hospital, I don’t really remember much.
I do remember they took me to a different room, one where they check you every 15 minutes, instead of always. I was there for just a couple of hours; again I had help remembering this. I do remember that I couldn’t get any air. I remember Drs and nurses running around, it was like it was happening to someone else. I remember them running down the hall. At least I thought they were running. Then a Dr. was in my face telling me that they had found a mass in the bottom of my left lung, and they had to go back in to take it out, was that okay with me.
The one thing that stands out about this little bit is that the Dr. was holding up a fist when said a mass.
When I woke up this time it was 5:15am, I know that because there was a clock right in front of my eyes, and I couldn’t see much else. This time I was in restraints, and I had one of those tubes down my throat. Again there was a nurse holding my hand, trying to explain what had, and was happening to me... Every Dr. form every department wanted to look at me before they would take the tube out. I was in and out all morning. I would come awake, and in seconds, it seemed, another shot and it was nap time. At 1:30 pm they said we are going to pull the tube now, I was very happy to hear that, because I was gagging the whole time, or so it seemed. But before we do you have some gunk in the bottom of your lung, I was thinking AND....
And we are going to have to get it out. She grabs a long tube, and slides inside the tube that was already there, OK not so bad.
Then she squirted water down there to flush it out, have you ever sucked in a big mouth full of water and thought you were going to drown, yes well then you know how if felt. After a few hours (seconds) they stuck another tube down and sucked the water and some really nasty looking “gunk”out of my lung. Wow well that’s done, But up came another tube and more water, they did it five times. By the end my legs were drumming on the bed, I really thought I was going to drown, I couldn’t think straight at all, complete panic. That was the worst thing I went through.
Out came the tube, and I was moved out of the recovery room.
The next week or so is sort of a blur, at some point Katie and her mom, came to visit, they brought me some orange roses, god they were beautiful. They came to see me just that once, and no one else came to visit... After a couple of weeks I wanted a cig. I wanted one bad. I drove the nurses crazy, to the point that they gave in. Picture this; I have two chest drains in one on each side. I have to wear an O2 mask at all times, the lungs weren’t working all that well. I had a bag for the tubes to drain into; I had one of those pumps