Life Still Goes On

Chapter 7: Mental Breakdown

September 1992

God, why was I in so much pain? I started to develop continual headaches as time went on, and I honestly don't think I could have survived without painkillers. Okay, that was probably an overstatement, but I was in a lot of pain.

I started to worry. Was this physical agony a sign that the baby would be born soon? No- at least that's what Dr. Jenkins told me. I was only in the sixth month, and although my daughter had health issues, she was expected to arrive on time: in late December.

Every day upon arriving home from work, after relaxing on the sofa and watching television, Nathan and I spent lots of time talking about our child. The spare room had been converted into a nursery, the beige walls painted a pale pink. We decided that for the first few weeks of her life, Regina would sleep in the bassinet in our bedroom, and transfer to the crib when she grew a bit more. We even set the date for our baby shower: November 27th.

I felt especially dreadful on one day in particular, both emotionally and physically drained. There really was no easy answer as to why, but it just so happened that I was incredibly upset. That day was September 5th. It would have been Freddie Mercury's 46th birthday, had his life not been cut short by AIDS.

I wanted so much for him to come back, as if he could return from death. But that wasn't possible. I had to learn to go on without him, even though he never left my mind. He'd been a part of me that would never die.

I barely made it through the workday without crying. I tried telling myself that I was too strong to cry, but in my mind I was crying. Furthermore, my body ached all over, and my head burned like a furnace. Nathan showed concern for me- real empathy.

"Ella, I know that today is meaningful to you. I know that you were good friends with Freddie Mercury. I wish there were something I could do- like take away your pain. Let's invite Roger over. Would that help?" He kissed my hand as I nodded.

We didn't have a full-scale dinner with Roger, just a little chat, as it was late in the evening. He kept us entertained with his bubbly persona and humorous stories about his past experiences with the band. I was still slightly upset as we sat at the kitchen table, Nathan and Rog sipping beer as I drank a glass of water. But hell, all I wanted was alcohol to drown my depression. I found a bit of courage as I lifted my glass in a toast.

"For Freddie," I mumbled.

"For Freddie." Nathan and Roger's drinks clinked together with mine.

September 9th was my 28th birthday, but I didn't have a party or anything, just a little get-together at my house with the Mays, the Deacons, Roger, my parents, Nathan, and I. I got to open a few gifts, which was fun. John and Steph had chosen a beautiful pair of crystal earrings for me, my parents gifted me with a set of wine glasses, Roger gave me a simple red dress to wear after my pregnancy, and Brian and Elizabeth gave me a china teapot. It was that night that I was asked if I knew what I was going to name the baby, but I decided to keep everyone in suspense, much to their disappointment.

One day at work in late September, my boss had told me to do an IV for a patient, a young man named Michael, who had AIDS. Things seemed to be going well as he lay down on the cot with the needle in his arm as I took notes about his blood pressure as the medicine dropped into his arm.

Michael was a bright, exuberant man in his early twenties who tried to make conversation with me. I told him about my pregnancy, and it seemed that he was very interested. Then, all of a sudden, I felt a rush to my head- and I vomited on the floor- then fell down, extremely dizzy. That was the last thing I remembered before my eyes closed...

"Dr. Miller? Ella?" I heard, echoing. What had happened?

I looked around. I was in the clinic's emergency room. My co-workers and husband circled around me. "What happened?" I croaked.

A tall man I recognized as Dr. Wilkinson, the E.R's lead doctor, spoke. "You were supervising Michael Foster's IV when you vomited and fell unconscious. I think you hit your head on the floor too hard. You should be alright. Just breathe." He held a plastic mask to my face, and I took a few gasps of air before he removed the mask.

"But... Why?" I asked, dazed, clutching my stomach. "Is my unborn child going to be alright?"

"Most likely. It's going to be fine," he announced, but somehow I doubted Dr. Wilkinson's words.

Nathan drove me home after the incident. I was so embarrassed and helpless. I felt like I had failed at my job, so I started to break down in tears. "Dammit. Damn everything. I can't handle it anymore."

My husband looked at me. "I'm sorry you feel this way, sweetheart."

I started to smile faintly. "Thank you, Nate."

When he dropped me off at my house, the first thing I did was change from my work uniform into my pajamas. I thought about killing myself just briefly, but the thought was soon replaced with exhaustion. I dragged my weary body to the bed and fell asleep, immersed in the sheets, although it was not even 3 pm yet.