Day 598

“Grief is the thing with feathers.” – an astonishingly different take on grief by Max Porter.

An extract:

Once upon a time there was a king who had 2 sons. The queen had fallen from the attic door and bashed her skull and because the servants in the kingdom were busy polishing sculptures for the king, she bled to death. The king was often busy with futile curse-lifting and the prevention of small wars. And so it was that the little princes would fight.

They slapped. A little cuff, a little jab. The short fat younger prince (called Ivab the Lazy, or Guilty Beast, or Greedy Wolf) would move the chair and send his brother tumbling to the cold marble floor. Trips, shin-kicks, tickles.

Then, as they missed their mother, more ans less, the fights got better, worse. The handsome one (called Prince In-a-Bit, or Idle Eagle, or Hungry Deer) would kneel on his brother on the fleshy underarms, and roll his knees upon the slipping muscle. They would lie at opposite ends of the throne-room benches and kick kick kick kick kick until his sobbing brother pleaded mercy, harder.

Then they bit. Then they tried to drown each other. Then they tried to burn each other’s hair. They tied each other up, they twisted wrists, they wedgied, they spat.

Then they found a poison book and took turns to make each other sick. Then they hanged each other. Then they flayed each other. Then they crucified each other. Then they drove rusty nails into each other’s skulls.

One day the king, who happened to be strolling through the palace maze, chanced upon his bloodied sons armed with crossbows, each prince ablaze with murderous intent.

‘My little yearlings, my lovely hoyden boys, why do you play this way?’ asked the king.
‘Because we miss our mammy so,’ the little boys sang in unison.
The king roared with laughter and patted his pig-tight belly.

‘My darling imps, you’ve got so much to learn about what it means to be king. The queen was no more your mother than she was my own. God only knows which corridor wenches spat you two out, but it certainly wasn’t that friend-of-a-friend I called Queen.’

So the boys, quite relieved, shook hands and went on to become very successful kings of large and profitable kingdoms.

Day 597

Posted by kidsaregifts20

This would have been the summer of Saagar’s graduation.
He would be attending various ‘last hurrah’ parties with his friends at this time.
I would be marking the date in my calendar and making sure I get leave from work on the day he graduates.
I would be picking a nice dress to wear for the ceremony wishing for good weather.
I would be giving him the card I bought for him rather prematurely in Canada while I was there for a conference 2 years ago, having no doubt about this occasion arising one day. In jest it said, ”Congratulations on your Graduation! Now you may pack your bags and move out.”

Instead, I played table-tennis after ages today. The last time I played it was with Saagar around Christmas 4 years ago. It was fun. Today was fun too and he was there.
Instead, I cooked mushroom pie for friends today. The last time I cooked for him was 19 months ago and it was fun. Today was fun too and he was there.
Instead, I went out for a long walk in the countryside today. The last time I did that with him was about 3 years ago and it was fun. Today was fun too and he was there.

“If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’ “

Excerpt from ‘If’ by Rudyard Kipling

Day 593

Posted by kidsaregifts20

photo (1)

This belongs to Saagar. I unpacked it today. A timely reminder.
Yes darling. Here and now.

Missing you teaches me to be in a state of flexible awareness everyday. It is a process of expanding, not of arriving at a different set of limitations. There isn’t just one way of looking at life. I am not obliged to be or not be anything, as long as in my heart and mind I am whole. I must be willing to contain within myself whatever is the opposite of any limited idea, knowing that when I emphasize a positive, at the same time a negative is being created. When I focus on life, death is hidden within that. When I choose an ideal of knowledge then I must accept its companion, ignorance. If I allow that non-beauty is always within me, then I am free to create beauty.

Love is the highest as it always contains that which is not love within itself.
There is no action that is always right or wrong: the only variable is the love with which I act.
Whether I am conscious of it or not, I am one with the cause of all that exists.
Whether I feel it or not, I am one with all the love in the Universe.

Day 589

Posted by kidsaregifts20

Ruth was 47. She lived with Bipolar Disorder for 20 years. For all those years her mother looked after Ruth and volunteered for a Mental Health charity. The week after Ruth’s death, her mother rang the Charity with the bad news of her suicide. She didn’t receive as much as an e-mail of sympathy from them.

Saagar was under the care of our GP (General Physician/Family doctor). I didn’t hear anything from him after Saagar’s death. At the Coroner’s inquest the GP said that he had been advised against calling me by the Medical Defense Union (MDU). They claim to be ‘on your side’ and give ‘expert guidance and support’. It goes to show that on hearing of Saagar’s death the first phone call the GP made was to the MDU. The advise he got given was medico-legal in nature and that is what he was looking for. Interesting! Isn’t it?

I had the honour of meeting Ruth’s mum today. We could see so many similarities in Saagar and Ruth. Both adorable, affectionate, creative and kind. I was her mirror and she mine. The bond we felt was very special. She let me try on Ruth’s sun-glasses. She thought they looked great on me and I do too. She let me have them. In that moment, I felt exactly how she must have felt – deep pain tinged with a tiny drop of relief; deep loss with a sense of peace. RIP Ruth.

Here’s a poem I found on the Order of Service for Ruth’s funeral:

Afterglow

I’d like the memory of me to be a happy one.
I’d like to leave an afterglow of smiles
When life is done.
I’d like to leave an echo whispering softly down the ways
Of happy times, bright and sunny days.
I’d like the tears of those who grieve,
To dry before the sun.
Of happy memories that I leave when my life is done.

-By Helen Lowne Marshall

Day 581

Posted by kidsaregifts20

After more than a year of Saagar’s death I could see that nothing at all had changed. Nothing was going to change. There is no power behind a Coroner’s inquest report, no legal, professional or financial implications for anyone concerned. Hence no lessons learnt.

I approached the GMC for help with the view that may be they will see things as they are and have more power to influence change but this is the letter I received from them today:

“In January 2016 documents regarding Saagar’s care were referred to a GMC Medical Case Examiner for review. I can confirm that the Case Examiner was specifically dealing with Dr GP and any issues surrounding his fitness to practise when they reviewed the documents. A decision was made by the Case Examiner that there was nothing contained within the documents which would call into question Dr GP’s fitness to practise and that as such the case should be closed with no further action.”

Really? Is this protectionism or is it a reflection of a deeper level of ignorance within the medical community than I thought?
Am I the one who’s crazy? Imagining things? Over-reacting? Making false judgements just because I am grieving?
The job at hand is clearly much harder than I thought it might be. I can teach children to ask for help. I can teach parents and teachers to identify signs of crisis and get professional help for them. They can take them to the GP. And then what?

The GP may ask them to fill out a PHQ-9 questionnaire. They may score 27/27. The GP might not discuss that with the parents. Not get anyone’s advise on the phone. Not refer them to a mental health specialist. They may send them home with a medicine that might worsen their suicidal ideation. They may also reassure them that they will get better.

That is like sending someone with terminal cancer home with the assurance that they will get better. That however would be unacceptable because cancer is a physical illness.

Severe depression can be invisible to the untrained eye. So, it’s ok for GPs to send young men with the greatest degree of depression home. Unquestionably.

‘Parity of esteem’ is a joke.