Kevin's Story by Kevin S (online e reader .txt) 📖

/> 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 to keep the meds flowing. A O2 tank. So they loaded me up onto two wheel chairs, and away we went, both nurses smoked so they weren’t mad. They did ask me to turn, off my O2 so I wouldn’t start my head on fire. Shortly afterward I was back on solid food and could make my way down to the smoking lounge (outside) by my self. When the whole thing hit me. Some one, someone I loved wanted me dead. I was such a piece of shit that they felt I need killing. I was so bad no one wanted to even come seem me not even my kid. The one visit was duty, not because she cared.

Life at the Hospital and alone


I got real depressed. really fast, then I wished that Michele would have finished the job. My life wasn’t going to get better; it was still steadily going down hill. The nurses must have been looking for that to happen, because they, (RN, NA even candy stripes) were all over me, I was rarely left alone; they always wanted to talk about something up beat.
More than once I woke up in the middle of the night with my hand being held. I would look at her, see would say softly, you were dreaming again, and would stay and hold my hand until I fell back to sleep..
I have nothing but praise for the nurses; They treated me like a king, and were all ways in a good mood around me even when I was less than a model patient. As an example about three weeks in, the chest tubes were coming out, ALRIGHT! The next day they had to go back in. They did it right there in my bed, The Doc did one side and a student did the other. It took three of the bastards to hold me still, and that was with me trying to hold still. If I ever hear a Doc tell me “we are almost there” again, I think I will rip his lying tongue out by the roots.
They cut a slit in your lower ribs, ALL the way through, then take this ½ inch plastic tube and shove it up under and all the way to your shoulder. I think I was less than pleasant to just about everyone in the room, in the hall, their mothers, and any one else I could think of. AND to make it worse, my regular nurse came in laughing at me and the things I told the Doc he could do with his tube. People didn’t talk that way TO HIM, fuckem!
When they were ready to discharge me, they found out I lived alone with no one to help me, they kept me another week. I don’t think I was ready to go even then but no insurance.
In some way the following is the worst part, you may want to stop here.
They put me into a cab and home; to the hotel I went no choice. Even the cab ride was, very painful; I had to ask the driver to pull over a couple of times so I could get my shit back together. But that pain was nothing like what was coming.
When I got back to the room it was tore all apart. The police had taken the sheets away; I had a bare mattress blood soaked of course, and a blanket. The mattresses was soaked the walls were smeared, the head board and the carpet soaked with dry blood. I could really smell it, I was so tired from trip home I just laid down and pulled the blanket over me. Except for meals on wheels I just laid there for two days.
Then Katie and Betsy came over, they put on new sheets, tried to wipe up some of the blood. I could smell the blood through the sheets. But I was so drugged on pain meds, that I thought I didn’t care. I didn’t care then. After about A week the nightmares and the flashbacks started, I would wake up screaming knowing I was getting stabbed, I could feel the knife again. It would take along time to convince my self it was a dream, it was so real.