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2006-07-15 - 2:57 p.m. Meltdown This week I had a severe physical and mental breakdown. It was a sure thing coming. Somewhere mid-June I awoke with a dead rat in my bed. Probably that was a good-morning gift from either the dog or the cat. End of June, and Peter my long-time bf of like 9 years, began packing to move back to Canada. I went to visit him on Sunday, came back to my apartment...the pipes of the old victorian pull-chain toilet had snapped off, and amazingly, the floor had collapsed, and the commode was now...in the basement. I called the Dead Slumlord's son who lives three states away in Connecticut, and is going through his own problems - his wife is starting chemo for cancer. He couldn't make it down to NYC any time soon. I began to master climbing a stool, and turning to prop my butt over the tiny kitchen sink to pee. One of the other tenants turned on the water in the abandoned apartment upstairs, that has no lock on the door and no electricity...so, in the dead of night, I had to get dressed and run upstairs with a flashlight if I had to go the other way. The Dead Slumlord's Son came down two daya later and dragged the commode up from the basement and left it in thr middle of my kitchen. The sewer exhaust pipe of the entire building had snapped apart with the plunging of the toilet, so whenever someone took a dump or ran their portable washing machine with bleach...I lived with the stench for over a week. The boiler is also just below that hole. When the Son came, he stuck his head into the gaping hole in the floor and then stood up, sweating, and said, "I can't take the fumes any more" and left. Forth of July weekend he came back and re-connected the commode(more fumes - who puts a contrete floor inside a living space ? A garage, maybe?) This was the weekend Peter was coming over to say his goodbyes. He was leaving Monday. He took me out Sunday night and we had a great time. I was the typical magnanimous Italian Good Girl..."Oh,yes! I understand you miss your family! I understand you must go back to Canada!" This week my psychopharmacologist told me NO. I must remind Peter that was your family you grew up with - what do you think I am now? I AM your new family. He also ragged on me for heading to work that day. I had been throwing up for 8 hours straight, had bruises all over my legs. I stopped at a doctor's office near where I worked and became incoherent, and couldn't stand up - they called the police and EMS and got me to a hospital by ambulance. They put me on an IV and kept me there and admitted me and took blood every few hours, did EKG's and X-Rays, all that fun stuff. I called work with my cellphone before it lost it's signal and my boss contacted my sister in North Carolina and my bf in Canada. Doctor after Doctor came in, asking me questions..."Are you on heroin? Have you been in detox before? Would you like to speak to someone about a living will, in case, you know?" Two days I kept begging for water. I was given no food except the second day, bland chicken broth - I am right handed and that's where my IV was connected. So, I tried best I could to get 2 teaspoons into my face with my left hand. "Finished?" said a nurse. "No, I'll try a bit later", I said. "Alrighty then!" she said, and whisked the tray away. The old lady next to me coudn't deal with the nurse's call button, so she kept me up all night whining, "NURSE! Gotta go PP! Nurse! Nurse!" I finally got out whan a social worker stopped by. I told her and one of the doctors that I had a German Shepherd at home with no food or water for two days now, and I had to get home. The doctor had a dog of his own and sympathized, and the Social Worker got my paperwork done. When I got home, Peter had come down from Canada. He came in with flowers, and Vitamin Water, and held me close and I felt so very not alone. I told him, You are my knight in shining armour. I'm crying now, writing this. It meant so much to me that oh god, Peter was there for me when I felt so very alone.