But Did I Die — Still In The Fight
But did I die — still in the fight Posted on [insert date, e.g., February 19, 2026] Sometimes I wonder if part of me did check out back then. 17 years old, serotonin syndrome slamming me like a freight train after antidepressants piled on whatever neurotoxin bullshit started it all. Heart rate screaming past 280, 300+ bpm—alarms lighting up the ICU like a casino gone wrong. The monitor's beeping turns to constant wail because it's not beating anymore; it's spasming, fibrillating, barely moving blood. Docs rushing, nurses pinning me down through massive seizures that felt like my body short-circuiting from the inside out. The Nights That Almost Ended It And then the nights after—drugged out, half-conscious, someone stationed right there watching my chest rise and fall. Not leaving, not blinking, because if breathing stopped in that fragile reset phase, that was it. No second chances. I remember the weight of eyes on me, the quiet "stay with us" vibe, the ...