Walking home.

Every time we visited him in the Intensive Care Unit, he mouthed the line “Just take me home.”

We wanted the same. It was our prayer in every moment that we would be able to take him home. But how would we transport the things that were attached to him? The things on which his life depended – monitors, strong medications being infused through syringe pumps and the beeping robot that was supporting his lungs? Even if we transported those, who would man these gadgets and modulate them as required? The first step was to get him to breathe by himself. It was happening in bursts. Some days he looked so bright that it was easy to believe that it wouldn’t be too long before we could. Other times he seemed tired, simply from the effort of breathing. Of course, they were trying to help him come off the ventilator but sometimes it was too much for him. Despite their good intentions and gentle demeanour, it was too much for him.

One of the young residents encouragingly said, “Sir, we want to send you home soon. That’s why we’re making you work hard.” He pointed skywards with a wry smile, “That way?”

In the end, it was a long, slow goodbye.

“We’re all walking each other home.”

– Ram Dass.

Pendulum swinging too far.

Posted by kidsaregifts20

He: “In the present climate, this doesn’t look good. Does it? Two white men, Clifford and I, leading this place.”

Me: ‘I think it’s great as you both know your stuff and work well together. Also, the organization is gaining strength and reputation under your leadership. Give it at least another year before you change anything. Everyone’s happy.’

He: “Yes, but … it doesn’t look good.”

Me: ‘What do you mean? Who’s looking? So long as the job is done well and the purpose of the organization is served, I don’t see the problem.’

He: “Yes, but, could I ask you to be my Deputy?”

Me: ‘Oh. Me? Hmm. What does the role entail?’

He: “I will find out the details and let you know.”

Me: ‘So, you are offering me a role and you don’t know what it is?’

He: ‘Yes. But I’ll let you know very soon.’

Me: “If you don’t know what the job is, how can you offer it to anyone? How can you know that I am capable of doing it?”

This was wrong at so many levels. Don’t use people to make you look good. See beyond their ethnicity and gender and think about the job at hand. Think about their abilities and aptitudes. Remember meritocracy? Would you have a doctor or a lawyer or a car mechanic or an architect look after you only because they had particular demographics or because they had the right credentials and were bloody good at their jobs?

Moreover, my colleagues would know that my promotion had little to do with my capabilities or performance and everything to do with the fact that I am a ‘woman from a minority community’. It would be insulting. No. Thank you.

We are one race – the Human race. Each individual, fully deserving to be seen as their unique self, way beyond their gender or color or creed. Let’s not loose the plot altogether.

Same story

Posted by kidsaregifts20

“Three weeks before that day he was at a bridge and he called his friend who called the police. They came out but just told him to call the GP. One week before that day he called another friend saying he had a panic attack. The friend picked him up. Four days before that day they told the GP what was happening. She gave him a prescription for anti-depressants and said it would take 3 weeks for a referral. 4 days later my brother was dead. At no point did anyone tell the family.”

That day was sixteen days ago.

I wonder if anyone sat down with him to listen to what was going on with him. Two friends, one GP and the Police – none of them could put him in touch with his life and keep him safe. Yes. Ultimately it is up to him but I wonder if he was told that it might be helpful to get in touch with his sister, his brother, his mother, his father – the people who had known him all his life. That he could choose someone who he had a deep connection with, someone he trusted, and let them know how fragile he was at present. Someone who truly cared.

I wonder if you’ve seen this recent advert from St John’s ambulance where a dad is desperately trying to save his son. It encourages lay people to learn First Aid, in case of a physical health crisis. It’s a good one.

“Save the boy”

Let’s put this in the context of doctors not knowing how to give First Aid to someone in a Mental health crisis.

The police not knowing that this is life-threatening, that there are resources in addition to the GP, like A&E, Maytree, Papyrus, Samaritans, CALM, their community, their family.

The GP not knowing that this is life-threatening, that there are things in addition to antidepressants that help, like having a proper conversation, exploring the suicidal ideation, informing them that it would be in their best interest if they included a family member or a friend of their choice in their care, giving them details of helpful Charities, giving them compassion and hope, drawing up a Safety Plan, getting in touch with the local Mental Health Crisis Team and being aware that antidepressants can make things worse for young people in the short term.

Over-medicalisation of suicidal thoughts and behaviours in a setting where most medics are uneducated and unsupported in managing these crises.

Save the boys and girls by insisting on education for all professionals in medicine, nursing, law-enforcement, prison service, youth services, social work, for schools universities, hair-dressers, cab-drivers, students, parents, teachers, managers and everyone else is the only way to get it right – A multi-agency approach to Suicide Prevention.

In the USA, ‘legislation’ was recognised as essential to Suicide Prevention(SP) in 2012. At present, 10 states have legally mandated training for all health care professionals.

ASIST Training (Applied Suicide Intervention Skills Training):

Applied Suicide Intervention Skills Training (ASIS…

Watch it!

Posted by kidsaregifts20

After a long wait, we can watch it. Not in a cinema but on the largest screens available in our homes. You might know that a few years ago we set out to make a short documentary on the life of Saagar and our lives after him. I am so happy that it can now be watched at the link below by clicking on the box that reads 1000 days and entering the password as suggested: hiddenFF2021

https://www.festivalreel.org/hff-2021

Presently this film is available through the Hidden Film Festival website but in time it will be a resource to increase the understanding of suicide and bereavement by suicide and the value of kindness. I hope it will generate constructive, life-affirming and healing conversations. It is 20 minutes long and is available till Friday, the 4th of June. At present it is doing the rounds of international film festivals and has been selected for 7 major ones. Thank you for holding Saagar in your hearts the way you do. For shouting out love and hope.

Cast: Freddie, Hugo, Seb, Sam, Bex, Rosie, Azin, Simon, Saagar and I.

Filmed and produced by the magical duo Jeanette Rourke and Ron Bambridge.

What some people have said:

“I cannot get the film out of my head (in a good way!). I am really impressed with the professional job done on the filming and opening drone shots of where you live etc.”

“It is beautifully made and the editing done with such sensitivity. I also loved the music – definitely sounded like a professional music for film composer.”

“Thank you so much for the film and it really brought me a lot of comfort especially in a rough week like today when I have grief burst. I am grateful to have to know you in this difficult journey and what you have been sharing about your beautiful Sagaar, your thoughts and your journey milestones has helped me tremendously.One thing I learnt from 1000 days is that the hope of surviving this unsurvivable pain which you gave me through your story. Thank you so much Sangeeta.”

Thank you all for funding this film. For illuminating this world in your own special way!

PS: Please feel free to share it on.

The Golden Buddha

Posted by kidsaregifts20

Once upon a time, far in the east, there was a country called Sayam. In the capital of this country there was an ancient temple of the Golden Buddha. People made long pilgrimages to visit this temple. Everyone knew of it and wanted to see the massive golden statue of the beautiful Buddha within.

One day the news came that a fierce foreign army was approaching the capital. The monks and devotees got together and quickly covered the statue from head to toe in mud and dirt. They made it look ordinary, with every bit of gold out of sight. It now looked dull and drab with no sparkle at all. It even gave out a peculiar odour that had to be camouflaged with incense.

Yes. The army made a huge clang as it arrived in the city with tonnes of ammunition and aggression, looking to plunder anything of value. A platoon of soldiers with armour and swords rode into the temple and looked around like hungry dogs. They found nothing of interest. Just an old dirty statue. They rode out and away.

Over time, new monks and devotees arrived. The old ones forgot to take the mud and dirt off. They forgot to tell the new ones about it. For years and years the Golden Buddha remained in hiding until one day, a young monk was deep in meditation a few feet away from it when he heard a crashing noise. His eyes opened and he saw that a bit of the mud had cracked and fallen off. Smashhhhh…onto the floor. He saw the left hand of the statue glinting in the dim evening light. He walked up to the statue and took a closer look. With eyes as wide as coins he ran out to get the others to see what he had seen. All of them got to work and took the mud shell down to reveal the awesome, pristine Golden Buddha.

This parable reminds us that we are all born pure and all-knowing, one with the divine. Over time we get conditioned to wear the shells or labels of ‘man’ or ‘rich’ or ‘silly’ or ‘mother’ or ‘short’ or ‘engineer’ and so on. Until one day something comes along and cracks the casing, making the gold within visible. Then we can’t help but keep picking at the dirt as nothing else satisfies us. We keep peeling the layers of muck away bit by bit by bit, till it’s all done and we are free.

Mental – I – zation

Posted by kidsaregifts20

He was 15 when his Hungarian parents thought it would be best for him to come to live in the UK with another family. His parents were refugees in Paris and he in London. World War 2 had ended a few years prior. The times were turbulent and many people were having to make difficult decisions.

This boy did not speak English. He landed up amongst strangers, completely inhibited, unable to do well in school. He was teased and taunted by his contemporaries and no one understood him. At 16, he became seriously suicidal. He had a plan. One day a neighbour noticed that he didn’t look great and encouraged him to speak to someone at the Anna Freud National Centre for children and families.

“The therapist who saw me could see beyond the struggles and see another person, see they had certain competencies and capacities, and that, if you removed some of the inhibitions, the self-defeating behaviours, and got access to my more positive side then I could do quite well,” he remembers.

Prof Peter Fonagy is now a leading contemporary psychoanalyst who has propounded and researched the theory and practise of ‘Mentalization Based Therapy’ (MBT). He is also Chief Executive of the Anna Freud Centre for Children and families. In simple words, mentalization is the effort an individual makes to understand someone else’s thoughts, feelings, hopes, beliefs, desires and behaviours. It is the ability to mind other minds, to understand misunderstandings, to see the impact of our behaviour on others, to see oneself from the outside and others from the inside. MBT is said to be especially helpful in the management of Borderline Personality Disorders.

The things that block mentalization are, firstly, the strong feelings of anger, shame and fear. And secondly, defensiveness, not wanting to know what’s going on in another person’s mind.

I can see how mentalization could make each and every relationship work. Not just the ones we have with others, but also the most important one, the one we have with ourselves.

Soloman’s wisdom.

Posted by kidsaregifts20

Soloman prayed to God “Give therefore thy servant an understanding heart to judge thy people, that I may discern between good and bad.” And his wish was granted.

And Solomon awoke; and, behold, it was a dream. And he came to Jerusalem, and stood before the ark of the covenant of the Lord, and offered up burnt offerings, and offered peace offerings, and made a feast to all his servants.

Then came there two women, that were harlots, unto the king, and stood before him. And the one woman said, O my lord, I and this woman dwell in one house; and I was delivered of a child with her in the house.

And it came to pass the third day after that I was delivered, that this woman was delivered also: and we were together; there was no stranger with us in the house, save we two in the house. And this woman’s child died in the night; because she overlaid it.

And she arose at midnight, and took my son from beside me, while thine handmaid slept, and laid it in her bosom, and laid her dead child in my bosom. And when I rose in the morning to give my child suck, behold, it was dead: but when I had considered it in the morning, behold, it was not my son, which I did bear.

And the other woman said, Nay; but the living is my son, and the dead is thy son. And this said, No; but the dead is thy son, and the living is my son. Thus they spake before the king.

Then said the king, The one saith, This is my son that liveth, and thy son is the dead: and the other saith, Nay; but thy son is the dead, and my son is the living.

And the king said, Bring me a sword. And they brought a sword before the king. And the king said, Divide the living child in two, and give half to the one, and half to the other.

Then spake the woman whose the living child was unto the king, for her bowels yearned upon her son, and she said, O my lord, give her the living child, and in no wise slay it. But the other said, Let it be neither mine nor thine, but divide it.

Then the king answered and said, Give her the living child, and in no wise slay it: she is the mother thereof.

And all Israel heard of the judgment which the king had judged; and they feared the king: for they saw that the wisdom of God was in him, to do judgment.

Footnote: Indifference kills. Love and wisdom preserve.

Convenient myths.

Posted by kidsaregifts20

On a few occasions, after I’ve shared the story of Saagar’s brief illness and sudden death in public, one or two individuals, often men, who’ve possibly been through their own difficulties, have said that there was nothing I or anyone could have done to stop him. I know they mean well and speak from experience. I appreciate them reaching out to me.

For a few microseconds, on rare occasions, I have told myself that may be it’s true that Saagar’s death was not preventable. I have felt my shoulders relax, my tummy unknot and my mind quieten.

Life would be so much easier if I could believe/ accept/ give in to the concept that no matter what, Saagar’s death was inevitable. That the planets were misaligned and his demons got the better of him. That this was his destiny and it was ‘written’ in the balance sheet of his karma. Life would be easy if I could be complete with the fact that many people with depression/ Bipolar/ other mental illnesses will die young. Sometimes within 10 weeks of their diagnosis. What if I changed my outlook so I could have peace?

What if 3 decades ago everyone accepted that people who got AIDS would be dead within a few months or years. And then nothing more was done about it. That’s just the way it was and that’s how it would stay. Would we reach the stage where we are today, where thousands of individuals lead near normal lives for decades on regular medication, where HIV is not passed on from a carrier to another if the former’s viral load is sufficiently low.

Today, in the UK, cancer care is excellent and cancer research is huge. Anyone who gets diagnosed with cancer can be sure to get prompt and high quality specialist care for as long as needed. So much so that if a child is diagnosed with cancer, the parents automatically get assigned a therapist. We have come a long way.

On the other hand, if a child or an adolescent gets a mental illness, the patient can barely get the attention they need. Never mind the parents. It can hardly be a co-incidence that all the bereaved parents I meet are certain that more could’ve been done to help their child. Not all of them are deluded. Or are they?

Here’s Robert and Linda’s story. They sadly lost their talented young son Richard Wade. They too believe his death was preventable. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FofR47rM1BQ

The more we ‘accept’ that these young deaths are inevitable (as the myth goes) the more we keep quiet, the less likely it is that things will change. Accepting might be the wiser thing to do. It might be better for our mind but it may also contribute to future deaths. The easy road may be the wrong road.

We’ve reached 41% of the funds we need to complete the film, 1000 days. Please help us release this film so we can bust some of the myths that surround suicide and bring this subject into society’s consciousness.

Click on: https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/1000-days

A big fat THANKS to all of you for being a constant source of strength for me.

Mind the Gap

Posted by kidsaregifts20

You are 28.
Married 4 years.
No babies yet?
Your mum’s bursting with unspoken questions.
The answer arrives finally.
A perfectly miraculous baby.
Born to you, so ordinary.
He’s way beyond your dreams.
Your life’s now embellished.
He’s much loved and cherished.
First grandson on both sides.
That smile! Those cackles!
Those big bright brown eyes!
He can’t wait to grow up.
As if in a big hurry,
He rushes into walking, talking.
Loving mangoes and chicken curry.
You work hard for your family.
That’s the way you’ve learnt to be.
From the life of your Papa and Mummy.
He thrives.
Multiple moves
He survives.
So many new houses, schools and friends.
So many new towns, cities and trends.
He takes all of them in his stride.
Builds up a repertoire of languages
from far and wide.
He learns to play the drums
Lovely unfamiliar melodies he hums.
Spinning red cricket balls on summer afternoons.
Reveling at night to heavy rock tunes.
You split your sides
with his impressions of accents
and caricatures of the brown, the black,
the yellow and the white.
Paul Choudhary and Russell Peter.
He loves their comedy.
Their lines he recites to perfection
At every opportunity.
Two things delight him most – friends and food.
Stars at GCSEs and A levels come easy.
He’s quiet the dude.
Uni takes him away to Durham.
You miss his laugh, his wit and his hum.
You find it painful to cook for one.
And long for his cocktail –
The old-fashioned rum.
Two years go by.
You think you are learning to comply.
The holidays come by.
Each and every moment you enjoy.
One day his closest friend, Hugo calls to say,
“The guy I’ve known most of my life?
Saagar is not that guy.”
The summer soon turns scary.
You find yourselves in A&E.
His laughter replaced with
Anger and paranoia.
The Liason Psychiatrist calls it ‘hypomania’.
He starts him on ‘Olanzepine’.
Puts him under the Home Treatment Team.
They keep you well out of the scheme.
They know what’s best for him.
Two weeks pass.
He responds well to the pill.
He’s told he has Bipolar Disorder.
You’re told nothing. Nil.
As his mood returns to somewhat normal,
He wants to return to University.
He is discharged to your GP.
The GP receives a discharge letter.
With no diagnosis.
No mention of signs of getting worse
Or better.
No list of warning signs.
No safety plans or designs.
He’s just another number to quote.
A delivery note. Completed in rote.
He went back to Uni but just for 2 days.
His mood slumped.
He is too quiet. You are stumped.
At the next visit to the GP
You describe his sadness.
You are weepy.
Then you hear the wise doc say
Take more pills, Citalopram and go away.
In 3 or 4 weeks
They will start to play.
Wait.
Rome was not built in one day.
“Would you please refer him back to the psychiatrists? You plead.
“They will do exactly what I am doing.” Says he.
“This is not the first time I’m treating someone like this.”
Take this slip please.
You remember the look on his face.
It’s now clear
As if in front of you right here.
The lines you thought were concern,
Were fear.
As advised, you go for walks and have a routine.
Weekly CBT, daily gym, nice food and TV.
Multiple episodes of ‘Office’ and ‘Friends’
Didn’t bring about any upward trends.
He is but a hollow shell.
You don’t know what to do.
Who to tell?
This is your NHS.
It’s honest and good.
You know it.
It’s you.
May be waiting is the best thing to do.
If they say he’ll get better
It must be true.
One Thursday afternoon you return from work.
An A4 sheet lies flat on the fourth step from the door
“Sorry. I can’t take this any more.”
The hand writing unmistakable.
The implications unthinkable.
A dash upstairs. Screaming his name.
A call to 999.
He’s only a child. A sweet child.
And he’s not well.
Surely they’ll find him.
All will be swell.
Standing bare feet
in the middle of the street
A festival of autumn all around me
Red, orange, ochre and green.
A car pulls up in front of our house.
Two uniformed men with his
Keys and wallet … talk about
Black hair…
Brown skin …
Grey hoody with a penguin …
No one said anything about death or suicide
What was there to hide?
10 weeks from the first hospital visit.
2 days from the last GP visit.
Later you find out they knew.
But they didn’t tell you.
And they didn’t know what to do.
They sent him home with you.
They call it ‘Care in the community’.
Do we know the difference between
Treatment and care?
If this is your community,
What a pity!
These are your colleagues.
You trust them implicitly.
With your baby.
Like they would have trusted me.
I grieve for his guilt,
His shame, his self-blame.
Him. All alone. Forlorn.
His quiet desperation.
Separation.
His terror. His fright.
Night after night.
Misunderstood.
Behind a hood.
No one should have to suffer so.
Nobody.
“To be or not to be”
That comes up for me.
Time goes round and round pointlessly
Never too far from complete insanity.
Oh! The finality.
I wonder if this is a movie or reality?
The official investigation says
everything was 'thorough and reasonable'
despite all the missing bits and
complete lack of clarity.
The doctor stands up in Coroner’s court
and announces boldly
“Suicides are not predictable or preventable.”
I shudder in disbelief. Here stands a lay person.
The only one who could have helped.
I marvel at Saagar for staying alive
for as long as he did.
The Coroner sees the gaping holes
that swallowed him alive.
Same old themes.
Listening to understand.
Communication.
Closing the loop.
Meaningful sharing of information.
She asked the Service Improvement manager of the distinguished Mental hospital what he would do to make things better.
He said he would discuss it at the next Business meeting and then spewed such jargon that I could have puked all over the floor of that spotless court room.
I meet with other parents of deep loss.
Story upon story of utter tragedy.
Avoidable, preventable travesty.
Immense outrage and consternation.
Let’s start afresh with compassion.
They say when something good happens, learn.
When something bad happens, learn.
At a random conference, over coffee,
I shared Saagar’s story
with a seasoned doctor of Psychiatry.
He said plainly
”This has been happening as far back as my memory ... ”
I read somewhere:
The opposite of love in not hate.
It’s indifference.
The opposite of art is not ugliness.
It’s indifference.
The opposite of faith is not heresy.
It’s indifference.
The opposite of life is not death.
It’s indifference.
I questioned everything about me.
Every decision, every word spoken, unspoken.
Every move. Every choice.
I even questioned our love.
But I learnt.
I learnt to write. To speak.
I learnt that there is no ‘they’ or ‘thee’
No ‘you’ and ‘me’.
There is no other.
It’s just ‘us’ and ‘we’.
Saagar was our future. Our own. Our community.
Despite everything, I’m learning to love me.
Did the others learn anything?
Did my son, your son die of nothing. For nothing?
No. There is a Saagar shaped hole in my heart.
There is an Ed shaped hole in the NHS.
There is a James shaped hole in A&E.
At least seven thousand and fifty
more holes in the world since Saagar.
And rising.
There are too many holes in this net.
In fact, there is no net.
Just gaps.
So, one and all, Mind the Gaps.
And let’s please begin
To close them in.

[ Please support this film: https://igg.me/at/1000days ]

Shauna’s Mum says

Posted by kidsaregifts20

” A schoolgirl’s been murdered in our area. It’s a horrible, horrible thing to happen – never should have and is just another reminder of this shit world we live in. I’ve been trying not to follow the news on it but they released CCTV footage of her last known moments and it was actually somewhere my brother drives past on the school run four times a day so I did watch it all and check the timings to just make sure he wouldn’t have been there and possibly seen something. (Different time of day)

I’ve just been struck by how it’s pulled the community together. There’s been balloon releases, marches, leaflet drops – the mum is clearly being very much supported ….I couldn’t find one person willing to have a cup of tea with me; three years on I still can’t. And I know suicide is different. Murder is evil; what was done to this poor girl, there’s absolutely no doubt people should be outraged by it…and I know suicide is about making a decision – albeit a stupid and flawed one…. but there are things I don’t understand why they’re quite so different.

The Head teacher of the girl’s school implored students to come forward because answers were needed. We needed answers with Shauna and anyone at her school who knew anything got told it wasn’t an appropriate thing to discuss. We even had a girl go to her teacher with some information, get told off for it and then to choose to write independently to the Coroner’s Court (with info we found hugely relevant but was promptly disregarded.)

Today the girl’s school announced that they’ll be making a memorial garden for her with lots of nice words about there always being a place for her and her never being forgotten. Shauna’s name wasn’t even allowed to stay on the Year 11 hoodies. The gesture is nice but the words; it would have made such a difference to us if someone had said stuff like that to us.

There was just both girls of a similar age and it’s just really brought it home how differently people see these things. I’m glad this Mum has the support that she so desperately needs, I don’t begrudge her it – I just wish it wasn’t so glaringly different how people reacted – this Mum is a heroine because of what she’s had to endure, we’re just potentially neglectful parents who should be forgotten about/ignored 😦

I don’t know if I’m making any sense. Like I say I do understand it. It doesn’t stop it hurting though. 😦 “