inquest

Day 350

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This is what I want to say in court tomorrow:

“Once again, we have found the same shortcomings as have been discovered in previous inquests related with suicide. The story is different but the themes are the same – various parts of the NHS not talking to each other, risk of suicide not being assessed properly and safety plans not put in place, training in mental health for GPs being inadequate, support for families being poor and follow-up after discharge from specialist services being completely not pro-active. Same things …. again and again.

Clearly, the findings from previous inquests have had minimal bearing on practice so far. Will this one be any different? Do we have the time, money or will to look after patients with mental ill health properly? Does it really matter to us as a society, as a country?

Given that suicide kills more young people than AIDS, road traffic accidents and violent crime put together, we have a long way to go. Let’s wake up and educate ourselves. Let us demand better care for ourselves and our loved ones. In the case of suicide, prevention is cure. If not prevented, it is too late, too final and too painful.

We all matter. Each one of us.

To quote Sir Liam Donaldson from 10 years ago –

“To err is human.
To cover up is unforgiveable.
To refuse to learn a lesson is inexcusable.”

Love you Saagar. Rest in peace my darling.

Day 349

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The Coroner’s inquest takes place on the 2nd of October, exactly 2 weeks short of his first death anniversary.

2nd October also happens to be a national holiday in India to honour Mahatma Gandhi’s birthday. He is one of my heroes, a man who stood for truth and non-violence.

Until today I have somehow been able to push the imminent inquest to the back of my mind but suddenly I am aware that it is less than 36 hours away. I trawled the internet this morning to gain an insight into what the process had been like for other people. I watched a few videos and found that it was very different for everyone.

I don’t know what to expect of the process, of others and of myself. I suppose that is a good place to be. What will be will be. I have been preparing for this day subconsciously since Day 0. This will be an opportunity to really be a “witness” in more ways than one.

Whatever happens, my son will not be coming back at the end of it. I will probably relive the entire experience in all its details all over again. That will be a familiar process as I have done it countless times already. But this time there will be other people in the room, participating in the conversation. That will be strange but I am open to it.

Somehow, the upcoming inquest is currently occupying a large part of my brain. My nervous system feels jangled. The butterflies in my stomach are fluttering really hard and my limbs feel week.

It’s not about my son or me anymore. It’s about learning meaningful lessons and bringing them into practice. It’s about acknowledging the tragedy that is suicide, not just for affected families but for the whole world. It’s about being aware of and sensitive to our own and other people’s suffering. It’s about never letting anyone suffer alone.

(Time: 9.30 am; Place: Southwark Coroner’s court. 1 Tennis Street. London. SE1 1YD)