To die for

He felt really good. It was Friday night, his favourite time of the week. Work ended and two days at home ahead. Alice was home too, no overnight stays this week. He sat on the settee, Jane on one side, Jason on the other. It was unusual for Jason to sit still long enough to join them for the reading session. He was determined to enjoy it. Jane had chosen two books from the bookshelf and had just finished reading the first of these. It was getting dark outside and the kids were in their pyjamas in readiness for bed. Jane was reading superbly as always. Plenty of enthusiasm, emphasis and interpretation, she was quite a little performer. He put his arms around them. He felt really good, he felt very cosy, relaxed and contented. This was what he liked best; them all at home together as a family, sharing a few cosy family moments. There was nothing for him that could beat it.

 

Alice sat opposite, curled up in the armchair in front of some banal Friday evening T.V. programme. She was wearing a black fluffy jumper with a voluminous roll neck. She looked very warm and cuddly. He felt a sense of great warmth. He felt relaxed. It didn’t get any better than this, he was where he wanted to be. No need for nights out with the boys, this was living. The three people he cared for most in the world together in the same room at peace. This was his idea of a loving relationship; it was all he needed to get him through life.

 

Jane was well into the second book. He thought ahead to the meal they would have when the reading was done, Jason was in bed and Jane falling asleep in front of the Friday night sitcom. He glanced up at Alice. His heart stopped. She had a pained expression on her face. Something he had never seen in over fourteen years of them being together. He felt a panic rise in him but Alice’s face melted into its usual soft and sweet countenance and he focussed again on the reading as Jane prodded him for attention. When Jane had finished Alice stood and lifted Jason. She had him kiss Jane and John and took him up to bed. When she came back down, she went to the kitchen to start on the evening meal while he made the tea before cuddling Jane. The risotto was up to Alice’s usual high standard. They sat on the floor eating and watched “Faith in the Future” with Linda Bellingham. Jane and he always watched it as she was allowed to stay awake later because it was Friday. More often than not she would drop off before the end and he would carry her up stairs and tuck her gently into her bed.

 

Jane in bed, they finished their meal and drained the bottle of red wine. Alice wanted to watch something else on T.V. It was sometimes a source of annoyance to him that she had the propensity to sit in front of the box each evening. Of late he would sometimes go up and work on the computer, sneaking in the occasional game of “Doom”. They went off to bed together at about 10:30. He hadn’t fallen asleep on the settee this time, which was unusual. He had forgotten the pained look for now. They were undressing on opposite sides of the bed. He glanced up at her and saw the pained look again wash suddenly over her face again. He stood transfixed and in terror and turned toward her.

 

“Alice what’s up?” He asked urgently “There’s something seriously wrong, isn’t there?” He said

 

She didn’t answer and she couldn’t meet his stare.

 

A cold reality suddenly dawned upon him. He was struggling with his disbelief and the facts before him but he knew it to be true. His mind was in turmoil, a dissociation of thoughts. Alice the trusted and loving wife and the unthinkable; the betrayal.

 

“You’re having an affair… aren’t you? He ventured hoping beyond hope that he was wrong.

 

“Yes” she answered.

 

He twisted in pain. He was beside himself with disbelief and grief. He didn’t know how to react. He paced back and forth for a few seconds and then knelt on the bed beside her. He asked her who it was. She asked if that was important, resisting for a moment, but she seemed to take great pleasure from telling him. She couldn’t meet his pleading and wounded eyes. But she had wanted him to know. There was a half smirk of satisfaction on her lips as she revealed who it was and told him that they had been having an affair for the past five months. She had brought him home to share the table with them and play with their children. And she had only started bringing him to the house after the affair had begun. She told him that she loved the b*****d and that he loved her. She told him she was leaving him to live with the b*****d in Yorkshire. He was in disbelief of what he was hearing but it all fitted. He fell to his knees. He asked her not to go. He went downstairs. He had nowhere else to go. He didn’t sleep at all Friday night. They had talked back and forth until early in the morning and then gone to bed where he had held her tight. Afraid to let go, he had not dared close his eyes. He was in a blind panic. He felt a closeness that they had not enjoyed for quite some time. He felt hope but was still in shock, disbelief and panic, Alice, unfaithful, never. But he knew it to be true. Throughout Saturday and Sunday they talked back and forth between dealing with the demands of the children. He was in a state of despair. He sobbed uncontrollably between fervent discussions. He sank to his knees on and off in total abject despair and submission. He delved to find the reason why this was all happening only to find almost fifteen years worth of resentment dumped upon him. He felt so low, so evil. He could not believe what he was hearing from the woman he wanted to grow old with. He knew that their relationship had gone off the boil since the kids had come along and the last three years of Alice and her business had been very difficult. But he always put his faith in their love. It was something he had always depended upon. She had stuck by him and his moods and always loved him through it. Although unhappy with the way things were such a split never entered his mind, he thought it was forever and he saw this year being the turning point. It couldn’t be ending now. Even the difficulties in bed had been forgiven, or so it seemed at the time. Now it felt like revenge time as she turned the knife that she had plunged deep into his heart.

 

She spoke of giving him three weeks. They would go away for a few days to Derbyshire. No not to Cornwall, once their favourite place, and where they had spent their honeymoon. No, even years of that she had managed to sully with a distasteful memory of one episode during one holiday of one of his moods. He would take the three weeks of course; it was a lifeline. Anything to cling to; any hope to ward off the unthinkable. Alice, unfaithful? Life without Alice; but somehow her eyes didn’t seem to be agreeing with what she was saying though and as he probed for the truth she admitted just trying to let him down gently. His world had come apart. He had not seen this coming, had never suspected. She spat at him that he should have known. That he should have realised that she didn’t want to continue the way things were going. But he had only seen hope and had put his faith in her love and patience and the vision that things were about to improve when Jason went to school. He suddenly realised that his faith was in his own love for her and not as he had thought for years, in her love for him.

 

On Monday morning they readied themselves for work and the children for school. He went through the motions. He hadn’t slept for three nights and had eaten one half of a baked potato since their evening meal on that terrible Friday evening. He was about to leave and asked her again if she was serious about giving him a chance or if she was just saying it. She confirmed the latter to be true. She said she was definite about leaving him and that her new relationship was not the cause. She had decided three years ago to leave him. She had said she wasn’t sure what her new lover’s plans were. She told him the children didn’t have any part in her plans. Her coldness frightened him.

 

Life would not be worth living without her. How could he face his beautiful children knowing he was the cause of them losing their mother and denying them the comfort of family? How could he comfort them in their grief with such guilt on his conscience? He felt dirty and evil. He stopped at the village open all hours store in Great Glen High Street and bought two packs of Paracetamol. He drove to the office in a fog of emotion, confusion and blind panic. He felt unreal, like he was watching a movie. He couldn’t concentrate on work. He picked up the phone and dialled her lover’s cell phone number.  He answered in his usual deep drawl.

“What are your intentions with my wife?” he blurted. There was a brief pause.

“Well as I’m sure Alice will have told you, we plan to live together” he stated coolly.

The words echoed in his head. No doubt there, none what so ever. Why had she lied, and how many other lies had she told? He was devastated. This confirmed his hopeless position. She knew all along of her intentions. Why had she pretended otherwise? Why be so cruel? She was twisting the knife and it hurt.

 

He had gone to the office because he had an important report to finish and a couple of important clinical issues to deal with. He felt as if he was in a tunnel. He was going through the motions, getting the job done. But he was detached from it and in a blanket of emotional smog. He didn’t feel as if he was there at all and he could not engage in trivial conversation, other than by nodding and smiling blandly without feeling. By lunchtime he had completed these tasks and couldn’t take any more. He drove home feeling detached and certain that the only way out was through the release of death. Then the kids would not lose their beautiful mother and he would not have to face life without her. He wondered why he had taken work so seriously all these years. What was the point? He wished he had done things differently. Why had things become so bad between them when he loved her more than life itself? He must be mad or evil or both.

 

He had said that he would go and see his parents-in-law. She had suggested it, and as they lived half a mile from his office it would have taken little effort. He had wanted to because he believed that they could persuade her to give it another chance, but after what she had said and the b*****d had confirmed their intentions over the mobile cell phone, he had given up hope. He arrived home and felt incredibly alone in the world. He dialled his parent’s in law’s number. He told them he would not be popping in and of how hopeless he felt. His father-in-law was adamant that he would make his daughter see sense.

 

He thrashed around the house trying to get his thoughts straight. He was in turmoil. He felt incredibly tired and physically sick. The kids would be back home in a couple of hours, and they would return to this. He lay on the bed and curled his legs up. He felt cold and so alone in the world. He resolved to kill himself. He felt so washed out. The pressure of work and now this final blow had taken its toll. She was away in Scotland overnight so he planned to spend a last evening saying his good byes to the children whom he adored. Tomorrow, he would see Jane off to school and Jason to nursery before going elsewhere to die. That way Alice would be back and they would have her to look after them when he was discovered. He had been lying on the bed about twenty minutes when he heard a car pull up outside. It was an hour and a half since he had spoken to his father-in-law. He jumped up and went to the window. His heart soared. It was Alice’s car and his mother and father-in-law were with her. They had been as good as their word. They had brought her home to him. He had a chance. He rushed to the top of the stairs as Alice opened the front door. She looked radiant, apart from the strained expression over her face. He stretched out his arms and she came towards him. She moved slowly up the stairs her arms half raised at her sides and her fingers clutching with anguish. He took her by the hand and guided her to their bedroom. He hugged her. She told him she was leaving there and then. The blow was almost physical. She moved as if to depart. He thought of kids. Of opening the front door in half an hour to them and having to explain that their mother was gone, and it was all his fault. He panicked. He rushed down stairs blindly. His father-in-law, who stood guard at the bottom of the stairs, met him as he descended the penultimate flight. He shoved him roughly with his outstretched arm and said roughly.

“Mister she’s leaving you”

He couldn’t take it in. What had happened to the gung-ho attitude of less than two hours ago when he was determined to make his daughter see sense? His panic grew. He barged his way to the cloakroom, grabbed his jacket and his shoes. He was aware of his mother-in-law being nearby but he just wanted to escape before Alice left him in the unacceptable position of having to tell the kids that it was all his evil doing. He rushed to the kitchen and took his car keys from the hook behind the kitchen door. He rushed back up stairs and took his work briefcase from the spare room. She tried to stop him, asking what was in the briefcase; the briefcase that he had prepared that afternoon for the following day. He didn’t answer. He didn’t want to tell her about the Paracetamol he had bought in the little store in Great Glen, his night-time boxer shorts, the children’s pyjamas and her big woolly jumper he had packed for comfort. And he couldn’t tell her about the three letters that he had written on the computer that afternoon. He pushed his way from the house, threw his briefcase into the back of the car and sped off. He had decided to go to a Travel Lodge. Ironic really, as that was where she had committed her first adulterous affair, a Travel Lodge in Livingstone, where she had given herself to that b*****d. He hated the world of consultancy and overnight stays; the world of deceit, of motels and of mobile phones; the tools of deception.

 

He drove at speed through the country lanes, stopping only to buy a bottle of Cinzano at the store in the next village before driving on to the motel and checking in. He had been slightly disappointed that all they had was rosso, when he preferred bianco. He wondered how he had such trivial thoughts at a time like this. He felt calm and detached, determined. It was early evening. He paid by credit card and took the key offered to him and went to the room on the ground floor. The room was warm and calm. He could hear the gentle drone of voices in a nearby room but in the dusk light it was a soothing sound, a sound of human contact. He undressed and put on his boxer shorts, folding his clothing neatly over the back of the chair of the dressing unit. He placed his briefcase on the window ledge and opened it, leaving the lid up. He arranged the letters and propped them against the inside of the lid. He took the Paracetamol and the bottle of Cinzano and placed them on the bedside table. He took the children’s pyjamas and the sweater from the briefcase and climbed into the bed. He pulled the little tops and trousers the children had been wearing in bed close around his naked torso smelling the scent of his beloved children. From his days as a psychiatric nurse he could hear all the rehearsed arguments about the damage and selfishness of such an act. But he felt he was in a Perspex shark tunnel, all the logic and arguments were gnawing and snapping at him but he was dissociated from them and focussed upon what he knew he had to do. The journey he had to make.

 

He held the sweater close to him. He buried his face in the soft folds of material and smelled her perfume. It was a rich smell, sophisticated like her. He loved her so much. He didn’t know how things had gone so far. He felt so responsible. His heart was breaking. He could not believe that in a matter of days his safe secure life had been torn apart in a cold and calculated act. He had to die. He unscrewed the top of the Cinzano and took a strip of Paracetamol tablets from the box. He looked at his watch. He wanted to take them over a period of time to lessen the risk of simply vomiting them up. They had to stay down. He didn’t want to waken again. He popped six from the foil covered plastic strip and washed them down with a swig of alcohol. He took another swig. The drink would have been more pleasant chilled but who cared a damn. He lay in the double bed and thought of her in just such a room. He recalled that when, just before Christmas, they had shared a Travel Lodge room-the same Lodge in Livingstone-while visiting his parents in Glasgow-they had discussed how up, and down the country, all travel Lodge rooms were uniform; so much so that it was possible to forget where you were if you did a lot of travelling and happened to have a heavy night the night before. He thought of meeting him in the car park and saying goodbye to her as he was about to set of for the airport with the kids. They had arranged the visit to coincide with one of her business trips. She was staying on. He couldn’t believe that when he and the kids had left that she had jumped into bed with him. He felt betrayed. He felt sad and angry and very, very out of control. There was nothing he could do. She was so cold and matter of fact about everything.

 

Half an hour had elapsed so he took the next batch of pills. He suddenly felt the need to have contact with her. He wanted to reach out for her comfort. He jumped out of bed and dressed quickly. He left the room and went to the reception area where he had seen the sign for the telephone. He had to go to his car to get the old Truprint film pot in which he kept change.  He dialled his home number. She answered. They spoke, covering old ground. He wanted to be in her arms. Warm tears flowed down his cheeks. She pleaded with him to tell her where he was. He knew that there was little point as she would not change her mind. She pleaded with him to let her come to him. There was no point. He said no. Suddenly he heard the Sergeant Major voice of his father-in-law bark at him down the telephone. He slammed down the receiver. He couldn’t take the harshness. He felt angry. He went back to the room, undressed and slipped back into the welcome warmth of the bed

 

He had taken another strip of pills and lain thinking of the kids that he loved so much. He was very close to Jane and he would have become just as close to Jason. He listened to the low drone of voices from an adjoining room, the occasional bursts of laughter so distant and so remote. He wondered that these faceless people did not know the pain he was going through within a few feet of where they were. Half an hour later, he was about to take the next strip of pills when there was a knock on the door. He didn’t answer. It must be a mistake. He was angry at the intrusion into his private grief; again the knock.

 

“It’s the police” A mans voice announced at the same time as a key slipped into the lock and a male and female in uniforms pushed their way into his private world.

 

He felt devastated by the intrusion and hated himself for making the mistake of telephoning her. He was always disappointed with himself that Alice was up to date with all the modern facets of telephone network products whereas he struggled. She had obviously used the 1471 facility to check where he had phoned from and then alerted the police.

 

He just wanted to escape into peace. To leave the pain behind, end the nightmare. They were not prepared to leave him too it, no matter how much he pleaded and argued his rights.

 

The ambulance crew arrived and more police officers. He stood his ground and protected his cache of pills for three-quarters of an hour, until the officer in charge produced the motel manager and went through an elaborate scenario of asking the manager if he wished McPherson to be removed from the motel. The manager said yes and then the officer made it clear that the choice was to be removed voluntarily or by force. He wasn’t in the mood for a fight, he just wanted to let go; he chose the former and went with the ambulance crew. He felt cold. He felt cheated; a futile and degrading blue light escort to the local casualty department. He was discharged home later in the evening into the care of his neighbours who had come to the hospital with his son who had rushed up from Surrey. He had refused treatment. It all seemed such a waste of time. Why could they not have left him alone? The doctor told him that he was certain to die most unpleasantly if he did not accept treatment.

 

The house was empty when they returned. Alice was gone. Taken the children and as much personal belongings as she could to her parents house. He crawled into his bed with her jumper and his children’s pyjamas. He could not believe what was happening. He wanted to be left alone to die. He didn’t think of the stress he was causing to all around him, his mind was fixed upon just letting go. His neighbours, a friend with whom he’d played rugby and his wife and his son pestered him every few minutes to return to the hospital for treatment. The doctor had said sixteen hours and then the overdose would have fatal results. He had described the break up of his liver, hepatocellular necrosis, and the failure of his kidneys, renal tubular necrosis, the pain and the sickness. While his minders were out of the room trying to decide what to do next, he took the plastic bag into which his clothes had been put at the hospital and pulled it over his head. He hid his head beneath the covers and waited for unconsciousness to overtake him. The doctor had told him of the nausea and the subcostal pain. The false hope of a recovery as his body seemed to recuperate for a day or so until encephalopathy, haemorrhage, hypoglcaemia, cerebral oedema, and a terrible and painful death would face him. He already felt nauseous and vomited profusely every fifteen minutes, greenish bile exploding from a spasm torn stomach. He just wanted the sickness to end, to slip into the relief of death. He had been nursing officer at a psychiatric unit in Oxford when a woman whom they had been caring for nine months, often under constant observation, had put a Tesco carrier bag over her head. It took minutes for her life to be extinguished. They would not let him be. His neighbour came back into the room and became suspicious; he pulled back the covers and ripped the bag from his head. He felt cheated. He felt a sense of failure. He felt very sick. By dawn he knew he faced the scenario predicted by the doctor who had seen him in the casualty department. His brother had been on the phone from Scotland and had contacted the on call General Practitioner who arrived and began patronising him. An ambulance was called and he was urged to return for treatment. As dawn was beginning to seep in through the curtained window he decided to end the sickness. He would find some quicker way to end it all when they had left him and he felt less wretched. He was ushered to the waiting ambulance. The street outside in the cul-de-sac was still in darkness. As he approached the rear of the ambulance a group of police officers appeared from the other side of the vehicle. They had been standing by just in case. The street looked like it was under siege. With several police officers, two police vehicles and the ambulance intruding on the quiet stillness of the otherwise suburban street. He felt so distressed and helpless. They had control and herded him like an animal into the back doors of the white van with the large green lettering “Two Shires Ambulance NHS Trust”.

 

In the casualty department a cannula was inserted in his hand and a Parvolex infusion begun to try to protect his liver from permanent damage. This usually had to be given within ten to twelve hours of ingestion but had been known to be effective, with expert supervision, up to twenty-four hours afterwards.  He was admitted to the short stay medical assessment ward. They put him in a corner bed with the screens drawn. He felt so wretched. The vomiting was worse. The foul bitter taste and stench of salicylates filled his nose and mouth and pain racked at his stomach, which convulsed and fought to expel the white chalky poison. 

 

Between episodes of vomiting he had plenty of time to think, time to think himself into the spiral of defeat and hopelessness. He was helpless and still felt cheated. He was still determined to die. He felt bad that his neighbours and his son might think that they had succeeded in preventing him from dying. That their effort and persistence had paid off. He just wanted to be gone. They were making it easy for him. The fact that the bedside curtain remained drawn at all times made the planning easy and cut him off from any other contacts that might divert his thoughts. They became all consuming thoughts. He noticed the sturdy electric connecting cable on the blood pressure machine. He knew it was possible to hang one self without having to be strung up or suspended from a great height. Michael Hutchins lead singer with INXS and lover of Paula Yates, had hanged himself from a door handle. The case had made news for weeks. Others had done it from wardrobe rails. He decided to do it using the hospital bed-head. Between bouts of vomiting and sleeping he tested the cable in various positions to get the best compression of his neck and he visualised how to secure the cable to the rails of the bed-head. He dared not test it out in case someone popped their heads round the curtain and discovered his plan. He was angry that the hospital staff were so naïve as to allow him the opportunity to kill himself considering the circumstances of his admission. He thought coldly of the need for training in dealing with suicidal people. It was a wonder that there were not more people killing themselves in the hospital given the way they approached his care.

 

His son spent a considerable time with him but he was so worn-out that he was in a daze and sat and slept in a chair by the bed or wandered to the hospital canteen to get something to eat. He decided to wait until nightfall when staffing was reduced and activity at a minimum. He would be alone and could get on with it. He was resolute.

 

When the staff nurse told him they were moving him to a medical ward upstairs he felt cheated yet again. He was angry but there was nothing he could do. He secreted the cable in his ski jacket, which was in the bedside locker, hoping to carry out his intentions if the opportunity presented itself. To his relief he was again put in a corner bed and was allowed to draw the curtains. Some of the patients on the medical ward were far more alert so it would be more difficult. In the early evening his son told him that his brother would be arriving from Scotland later and would be visiting. He was overcome with emotion. He said that he didn’t want to see his brother. He tried to persuade his son that his brother should not visit until the next day. He didn’t want the emotional trauma of seeing his big brother he just wanted to die. The tears flowed as he felt he was to be cheated again.

 

His brother breezed into the ward at about six in the evening. He was loud and bold as always. He was forthright and gave his frank opinion about what was happening between John and Alice. He was brutal in his condemnation of Alice, which he and his wife had discussed. It was as if a dam had burst. He suddenly felt the burden of guilt lift from his shoulders. His big brother, who had come to his rescue whenever he was bullied in the playground when they were kids, had rescued him from Alice’s bludgeoning. They talked at some length. When eventually his brother left to get a coffee from the canteen he no longer felt so unsafe. He still felt very desperate but he did not at that point want to kill himself. When the staff nurse came to take his pulse and blood pressure she was kind and sensitive. He pulled the cable from the bedside locker and tears of relief streaming down his cheeks as he handed it to her. His brother stayed the night, propped in a chair beside his bed. He felt safe again for the first time since Alice told him she was leaving him. His sleep was fitful, whenever he awoke he saw his brother and felt guilt about having caused so much turmoil. He felt sad that his brother had to sleep in a chair beside his bed. He was so frightened about the future he dared not contemplate it. He had no real idea what was going on beyond the hospital walls, what was in Alice’s mind; if she would really leave, or was it a shot across his bow?

The next night after his brother and his wife and his son had taken it in turns to stay with him throughout the day he sensed something was going on. He didn’t know what but they were treating him in a very sensitive manner; especially when he insisted that they all go home and get some sleep that night. He told them he felt much less likely to do anything silly. In the early evening he had been seen by a psychiatrist, a senior registrar who was not very good. He had little respect for psychiatrists and this guy reaffirmed his feelings. His own knowledge of mental health and mental health legislation intimidated the chap. He had tried veiled threats of being forced to go into hospital. McPherson merely informed him that he could not do so as there were no grounds and no symptoms upon which to base a medical recommendation as required under the Mental Health Act 1983. He had retreated and mumbled something about getting advice from a senior colleague and left the office that was being used for the interview. McPherson returned to his bed and to his utter annoyance overheard his case being discussed at the other end of the ward by the psychiatrist. The senior registrar came to his bedside and informed him that there were no grounds to detain him against his will but asked him to consider some voluntary help. After twenty-five years in the job he knew the bottom line. The strength had to come from within. There was no magic bullet, no miracle cures in such cases. You either sank or swam. No half measures. Drugs caused more problems than they alleviated. And admission to an acute psychiatric ward would be enough to tip anyone into madness.

Reviews

[Southern Cross]

A heavy dose of soul here..the importance of family, happiness and life. I am reviewing before I continue on anxious to read more. So well written though veiled in such gloom. It's a hard place to be cold and alone .A world of total numbness when in a suicide mode. Hard to scrape away the cobwebs that cloud the light. Sometimes the "saving" is the hardest part

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Many thank yous for even reading such a tome.

[Claire Twinn]

Words fail me here, I can't begin to say how terribly sorry I am you felt such pain. I've always felt deep down that people who commit suicide are selfish to subject their loved ones to such grief, but now I can see how it is their suffering that makes them unable to see beyond the pain.

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Thank you Claire.