New here. My story is a bit longer as I'll try and give the method I used and the reasons for failure.
I became type 1 at age 23 - almost unheard of. I'm a big guy and that the time of my attempt I was nearing 300 pounds. I'm also "insulin resistant" meaning I have to take a higher dose than others to correct my blood sugars. I was 52 when I attempted and wished I'd have used a gun instead. Now they have taken all those away and it just means It's harder to find release from this life.
I prepped by buying four vials (10 ml, U-100, Regular short acting insulin). Walmart sells old skool insulins (Regular and NPH) for $25/vial, no prescription needed. Novolog and Humalog are slightly faster acting but over $300/vial and require a prescription. I got some big bore syringes (lab supply stores mail order them direct, even here in California. Regular insulin syringes are also available via mail order - no prescription). The injection technique was my mistake which I'll explain later. I filled two 10ml/cc syringes with 2-1/2" needles for deep muscular injections, and then used six 3m/cc with 2" needles I had laying around for testosterone injections. If pulled clear back to the stop, they hold 3.35 ml/cc's. So in short I had 40 ml or 4,000 units loaded. Before injecting, I ate ice cream sandwiches and chocolate - two things I missed for so long - and did blood sugard readings every few minutes till I hit 550. I didn't want to start injecting and pass out before the full load was in, so that's why the high blood sugars. I stared by taking one of the needles and poking my skin everywhere so that they couldn't see an injection site and cut it open to drain out the insulin. I've heard this done before. I drove in the big ones first and then the smaller ones next. This happened quickly and I can tell you I have never felt greater peace in my life than at that moment. I was at peace at a soul level.
I was in a motel room, and had laid down plastic sheeting everywhere as I didn't wan't the cleanup crew to have to deal with more that they should have to. I put a sign on the doorway and taped in heavily in place so that then the door opened the tape would stop it and the sign would be exposed. I didnt want to ruin in the maid's day.
I laid down on the bed and nothing was happeneing. So I got back up and decided to record some data for science purpose. I mean, why not leave some good behind? I got out my blood sugar meter and watched the numbers descending pretty quickly. Over 15 minutes or so - even with all the sugar I had just downed - it finally got down to 100 or so, then 50's, 30's and I stopped at that point and laid on the bed. A short time later I went unconcious.
I came to when it was light outside and I was laying on the floor naked with cops and ambulance tech's all around. It was very difficult to understand their questions. At some point I has stripped my clothes off and in the midst of convulsions (I think) I had voimiteed and shit myself. I was given Glucose Emergency Kit shots over and over. They kept asking me why I did it and what else I took. They put me on a gurney and wheeled me out to an ambulance. Both the cops and the abulance people were looking at me and talking to me like I was a really horrible person, 'how could you do this to your self," etc. I got to the hospital and the doctors and nurses were nice but still wanted to know more about dosage (not hard to figure out when they had the four empty vials). I kept fading in and out and so the doc had one the nurses pull outt his monster sized metal syringe and stick it in the IV. When they put in IV it's usually D5-W (glucose) or Saline Solution (basically fluids with a salt balance). The syringe was full of D-500, basically like pure sugar. I remember the psychiatrist come in and ask my why I did it. I got really pissed at her - "why did you try and harm yourself?" "Hey I didnt try and 'harm myself,' I tried to kill myself and if you can't speak English, I have nothing to say to you." She looked furious, and there was no second Psychiatrist - as required, even though it was signed off by two. After awhile they wheeled me into ICU and put me on the coolest bed ever. It was constantly moving under me - liike a gentle massage. I had another doc come by and ask more questions and then a nurse came by, stuck a syringe into the IV and the lights went out.
A couple days later I awoke in a dark room with a nurse by my side. She hit a button and asked how I was and if I needed anyting. I almost laughed but asked for a shower. She took me into a baathroom with a shower and let me shower, never closing the curtain. I found that odd, but it was just the beginning of my stay - I was 5250'd which is the California Code for an involentary two-week stay in the psych ward. I guess that's what happens when you piss off the psychiatrist. They wheeled me into the psych ward handcuffed to the gurney. There was a cop walking in with me as well. They stuck me in a room by myself with a nurse stationed inside the door. Whenever. I went to get up to use the restroom, she'd stick to me like glue. Shower, the same. They call it a 1-1, meaning one on one supervision. It's a psychological trick to let you know *they* are in charge and you will do as you are told. Over the next few days they let me spend more time in general population (it is prison, make no mistake about it. You are given a number and there are no unlocaked doors or way to escape.)
I eventually got out without being forced to take anti-depressants, which was an epic battle. I still look back on it as the worst experience of my life - the coercion, the being put in prision with no access to a lawyer, no constitutional rights whatsoever and being subjected to mental torture. I mean, they walk into your room and shine a light in your face every 15 minutes "to make sure you are ok". That is the very definition of sleep-deprivation torture. You can't sleep at all. There were genuinly dangerous people in there - when I was finally setup in a shared room, my "roommate" was a guy that had done two five year sentences at Avenal State Prison for attempted murder.
Mistakes: I left my cell phone on, and my best frend came to his office very early, found my note and then my phone location (he's a world class hacker) and this was 10 years ago so there werent the "find me" things like on modern cell phones. Second mistake, using insulin instead of my 9mm Glock. I was afraid of a bullet exiting the back of my head and still having enough power to kill or injure someone else. This is my life I'm trying to end, not someon elses. Third mistake, deep intramuscular injections. If injecting 1cc, the fluid goes into your blood stream over a couple hours. If you use more than 5cc, it forms the "depot effect". The fluid presses hard against the muscles causing the capilaries to flatten and the fluid justs sits there. Over time it will slowly wash into the blood stream but it really takes alot of time.
People kept tellling me afterward "keep trying, thing will get better." It's 10 years later and things definitely didn't get better.
So I'm sitting at the bus stop, looking to find the next best way out.
Thanks for listening.