What are the chances . .?

It was Tuesday, not my usual day to be working at St Thomas’ Hospital.
It was lunch-time and there was time enough for a proper break, which was extremely rare.
I was able to physically leave the Theatre complex for fifteen minutes, which was usually impossible.
I wanted to clear my head, so I went to the cafe, looking for a seat by a window. I was in my raspberry scrubs, wearing my most expensive necklace which is a green lanyard with my ID batch. The round table by the french doors had three chairs, of which one was occupied. I asked the older gentleman if I could share his table and he didn’t mind. As I sat down I noticed that his left arm was heavily bandaged. My curiosity got the better of me and I asked, ‘What brings you here?’
He looked straight at me and replied, “I tried to die.”
‘I am sorry you found yourself in that impossible place. Must have been terrible. Are you getting the support you need?’
“Yes. They’ve been very good here.”
‘I am glad.’ I paused to wonder if I should tell him but the words left without my permission.
‘You know, I lost my son to suicide a few years ago.’
His gaze connected with mine like a laser beam and his eyes moistened.
Softly, almost apologetically, he stated “When you are in that place, you can’t think about other people.”

Pause.

“Here comes my wife.”
Holding two paper-glasses and a brown paper bag, she joined us and placed one of the glasses in front of him. She took out a Jubilee cupcake from the bag to share.
“Have you traveled a long way today? I asked, shifting gear.
‘Sussex. Straight train. Not too bad.’
“Beautiful part of the world!”
‘Yes. But we lived in Australia for eighteen years which was really pretty. We came back to be with the children.’
“Nice. I wish you all the very best. I must get going now.”

‘Us too. Our appointment is in fifteen minutes.’ she said.
‘You take care’. He said, making that eye-connection with me again.
“You too.” I looked straight at him, nodded, smiled a polite smile and walked away.

(Resources for attempt survivors, their families and friends:

https://www.sprc.org/livedexperience/tool/resources-suicide-attempt-survivors-their-families-friends)

I was so wrong.

I thought that if his doctors would have recognised how sick Saagar was, they would have known that the best thing to do was to refer him to the Psychiatric services. They would admit him to the hospital, look after him and keep him safe.  He would recover fully, return home and resume his life as normal – play the drums, read and speak French, play cricket, go out with his friends, go to the gym, make me laugh till I had tears in my eyes and soon, return to University.

Now I know, that I was so wrong at so many levels.

  1. Recognise?

The GP didn’t think his condition was life-threatening, even after he told him it was. How much more obvious did it have to be? They didn’t believe him. If at all they did, they didn’t take him seriously. Or maybe they simply didn’t know what to do.

GPs are not trained or supported in looking after suicidal patients.

  • Refer?

If they would have made a referral to the Mental hospital, he would have waited for a long time to be seen. Maybe he would have died while on the waiting list, like many others.

GPs are dis-incentivised to make referrals to specialist services in various ways.

  • Admit him to the hospital?

No chance! That would not have happened as there would have been no beds. If there were beds, there would have been others much sicker than him, ahead of him in the queue.

Hospitals have very poor capacity and very high thresholds for admission to inpatient beds.

  • Keep him safe?

490 patients died while detained under the Mental Health Act in the year up to March 21. At least 324, for non-COVID reasons.

Ref: https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-59336579

Being an inpatient does not mean –  safety.

  • Recover fully?

Many patients report traumatic experiences while admitted to mental hospitals. The treatment is often not conducive to recovery. Concerns include coercion by staff, fear of assault from other patients, lack of therapeutic opportunities and limited support.

There is little understanding of what the patient needs, to recover.

(Ref: https://www.cambridge.org/core/journals/the-british-journal-of-psychiatry/article/experiences-of-inpatient-mental-health-services-systematic-review/C5459A372B8423BA328B4B6F05D10914)

I am presently reading a book – ‘Building a life worth living’ by Marsha, M Linehan. She is the psychologist who developed Dialectical Behavioural Therapy, to help suicidal individuals to build their lives. Much before she did that, she was a seriously suicidal and self-harming young adult.

I am learning so much.

Marsha M Linehan – Author of ‘Building a Life Worth Living’

Twenty-seven

Dear Saagar,

It was your 27th birthday, last Thursday. You would have been 27 years old. You were 27. You are 27. Which one is it? None of the above? All the above?

You were a Presence eons before you were born as Saagar and you will be one for ever more. You are Awareness, beyond form and name. I am the same. There is no separation between us – both ageless, placeless and traceless. Untouchable. Unknowable.

Didn’t take that day off work this year. Woke up and thanked the blessed day for you, your life. On the beautiful bike ride to work, the heart overflowed with love and gratitude. Had a full productive day at work and another lovely bike ride home. Sat on your bench in the evening under the circle of trees bathed in the slanting rays of the setting sun. Felt the love.

Thank you for bringing me the true experience of love.

Yours,

Mamma.

“When love beckons to you, follow him,

Though his ways are hard and steep.

And when his wings enfold you yield to him,

Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.

And when he speaks to you believe in him,

Though his voice may shatter your dreams

as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.

… Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.

He threshes you to make you naked.

He sifts you to free you from your husks.

He grinds you to whiteness.

He kneads you until you are pliant;

And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God’s sacred feast.”

  • Khalil Gibran

PS: Please like and retweet the link below if you can. That will give a media presence to this short documentary film, ‘1000 days’, which is based on this blog and has been made with the intention of bringing us all closer together in love, kindness and understanding so that no one reaches a point where they can’t find a way to live another day. You will be able to see the film in late summer, once it has done the rounds of a few film festivals across the globe. Thank you very much.