Suicide?

Candy woke me up at 2:50a.m. "Mr. Walters, time for your meds." Candy started popping pills out of a plastic container and filled up two small paper cups. She tore open the plastic cup that was sitting on the table, popped in a straw and handed both cups to me. She elevated my bed and watched me very closely to make sure I swallowed all of my drugs. My 'cell mate' was snoring. He had the volume on the 'Big Screen Idiot Box' on low loud. There was a cooking show on, which actually began to hypnotize me with fascination. Geno, was forking big steaks from a pan filled with his special 'Bing'lala'bang marinade' and throwing them on a grill. Yummiest! I just realized I haven't eaten any real food since I've been here. How do I get in touch with the Air Force and Red Cross? 'Oh that's funny.' Maybe they could air drop me some rice. And then I could do a cooking show called: 'Stroke invalid sucks rice through his I.V. Tube.' Oh that's so funny! I looked at my right hand, it was stuck in a curled up position. I couldn't open it.  It was reddish purple and swollen like a soft ball. It looked like a monster hand you would see in a wax museum.  I touched it. It was ice cold like a frozen piece of beef. My right arm had atrophied and looked like a garden snake. My right toes would not curl. My right leg felt like a steel beam was hammered through it. I could not talk. I couldn't do even the simplest math. I couldn't recall a lot of things. For example names of people I am very close to. In general I felt totally and utterly exhausted! I felt like giving up!