The Last Six Months of Dying

August 6, 2014 8:30 PM

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The Last Six Months of Dying

It wasn't the cold, sticky vomit beneath my cheek that woke me up. It was feeling my bladder let go and watching the yellow of my urine slowly spread across the white tiles that got my full attention. I was lying on the floor in the bathroom hallway of my home. It was the summer of 2006 and I was 51 years old. This was the beginning of the end of a self-chosen ride into dying. I was drinking too much, abusing prescription drugs and was a bulimic who did not know my eating disorder was self-hatred in action because it had been going on since I was 12.

Lying there soiled and shivering wet, I remember thinking, "If I can just get some sleep and rest a bit, I can fix this thing." I actually thought that I could get a handle on what was happening to me if I just tried hard enough and used my willpower and my wits. I was not ready to admit to myself t...

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