Well that was interesting - not. I took a handful of my amitriptyline tablets (about 10-12 50mg tablets) last night in the hope that I wouldn't wake up this morning, which as I'm typing this obviously failed. The first that my husband knew was when I could hardly walk this morning, so he called the ambulance service. Paramedics were nice and kind and said that given the time I'd taken the pills that I was past the worst but they did say that as I had very low blood oxygen levels, combined with the state I was in when they arrived that I must have stopped breathing at some point during the night and that, depending on the view point I was either very lucky or very unlucky!
A ride by ambulance to the new Royal Infirmary later and I'm admitted to the A&E department, where I spent most of the day. A whole battery of tests were done, including an ECG (apparently amitriptyline can cause heart failure), and a couple of psychiatric nurses came around to make an assessment, and they agreed that I'm depressed and need anti-depressants, and that I should try to carry on as normally as possible, but that I should get some support from the Community Psychiatric Nurse. To that end I've got an appointment at the Royal Edinburgh next Wednesday.
Of course, my husband, decided that he should be the keeper of pills so I have to find where he has hidden them. It's really upsetting - I mean I want to die, no question about that, but everyone around me thinks this is a bad idea. However they have no clue as to how bad I feel and they are all just playing lip service with various pleasantries. Why can't people accept that I want to die and let me get on with it.