It’s another Saturday night. Of me not working the evening shift. Another Saturday of me not getting aggravated with the bozos of the day shift that have left work all up to the high heaven because they decided to leave it for evening shift. No longer am I burdened with the calls of the nurses and doctors who want their results from 2 pm because it is now 6 pm and why is it taking so long. Of having to explain to them I am just getting to their sample now because some lay brained idiot left it where it was hidden under a basket or transport missed it in the last pick up and it is now arriving now. No longer am I responsible for taking shit from these air brains and stuffing it all inside leading me to want to kill myself. Every Saturday night.
Every Saturday night for about the past year I had been thinking about taking my life after one of these horrendous shifts. It wasn’t something that came one day out of the blue. It had been brewing for sometime until I found the perfect place. What better way to say fuck you to an institution that you hate than to take your life in it. Least that is what I was thinking. Now we’ll never know if I will go ahead with my plans though I have gotten the means and left the means in one of my lockers. It was a safe place to have these things in there and knowing I could act at any time. My therapist knew all the while I had the loaded gun so to speak and was ready to pull the trigger at any time. I just never got the courage to actually go through with it for fear of there being security cameras where I wanted to do it. I thought that if I went up there in the late hours of the morning and got caught on tape, my job would not only be over but I would be taking some quality time in some psych ward for some period of time. Psychiatrists don’t like to let someone loose when they know they have attempted or near attempted suicide. I don’t miss the wondering and the planning. For months I had this plan and just when I couldn’t take things anymore, there I had my plan. All nice and detailed. All I had to do was learn to make knots. But I figured if I went that far, I would be in deeper trouble. The plan would go from thought to preparation and that was more serious. And dangerous. It was a step closer to ending my life.