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Suicide Lost

December 13, 2008

Several years ago, I was looking for my former Explorer Scout leader from my teen years.  I had heard he was going through a divorce and was running a side business out of an industrial park in Aloha.  I found him in his shop.  He smelled bad and he looked depressed.

Tom had been a significant part of my teen years.  Both as a personal influence and someone who steered me towards a career in emergency services.  I spent about 45 minutes with my friend and basically talked about “guy things.”  Years later, because we now worked with one another, he told me that my visit that Summer afternoon kept him from commiting suicide.  “You saved my life,” he said.

Recently, another old friend contacted me (not that he’s old, but we’ve been friends since back in the day). We got together to catch up.  At some point in the conversation, he aluded to some plans to kill himself.  Though this wasn’t a surprise, it did take my breath away.

I ramped up my silent prayers and we began to explore the reasons for his lack of hope.  We continued to talk…

As a paramedic, I responded to several suicides and attempted suicide.  Some of them continue to haunt me:

  • There is the guy who hung himself in the garage where his wife would be sure to find him when she came home and hit the garagedoor opener.
  • I remember the very pretty young blond girl who took an overdose.
  • One lady who after 40+ attempts, finally succeeded.  She died in the back of my ambulance on the way to the hospital.
  • We walked into one apartment where a young woman had taken an overdose. We found her unconscious on her couch with an open Bible.
  • The one that haunts me the most though is the father who walked into the next room and shot himself – his eight year old son found him.

When I was in the midst of the anguish of my divorce, I wanted to put a gun to my head.  Fortunately, I saw this as a permanent solution to a temporary problem and I never followed through.

The people who I saw, confused me.  Why would a young, pretty blond girl want to die?  From my perspective, she could have anything she wanted.  Why did so many people have Bibles nearby, or have religious overtones?  Why did that man hang himself in the garage – where his wife would be shocked when she came home?

Why do so many teens continue to kill themselves every year?  Why is the rate increasing?  What in our society and culture is lacking, that people are losing hope?

One of the common themes of people whose friends are suicidal is that we often feel like we don’t know what to say or do. But my friend yesterday gave me a clue.  He told me this story:

Stumbling home one night, a man tripped and fell into a hole in the street. Dazed and confused, he cried out for help. A priest answered.

“Do you need help, my son?”

“Can you get me out of this hole?”

“No, but let’s pray together for your safe escape.” The priest mumbled a brief prayer and walked away.

Next came a psychiatrist. “Tell me your problem, and I’ll try to help” he said. “I’m stuck in this hole and can’t get out. Can you do anything?”

“I think so. You sound depressed, so here’s a prescription. Take these as directed, and I’ll come back every week to discuss your feelings.”

A third man came along. Seeing him peering over the edge, the man cried out again. “Thank God! Can you help me?” “Do you want to get out of this hole?”

“Yes, yes. Please. Can you get me out of here?”

The man jumped down in the hole next to the first man.  He yelled “What the hell are you doing? Now we’re both stuck. We’ll never get out.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry,” replied the man. “I’ve been in this hole myself, and I know the way out. I’ll show you, too, if you’ll walk with me.”

That’s when I knew why we were talking together.  I’ve been in that hole and I found the way out – all I had to do was share my experience, strength, and hope with my friend.  And so I did. I jumped into the hole with him and we began the journey out.

It is fun to watch a life saved – but it wasn’t me.  I was just the messenger.  I just shared how I got out of the hole.

More and more, I find these words to be relavent to people’s issues:

Lord, Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change;

The courage to change the things I can;

And the wisdom to know the difference.

So often in my daily journey, the things that consume so much of my time don’t seem to have much relevance with the issues people face.  Yesterday, I had the most amazing peace.  It isn’t the first time I’ve faced life or death situations, and I doubt it will be the last.

I love being a lifesaver.

[UPDATE: Check out this link to TWLOHR]

The Completed Family

December 8, 2008

It was just seven months ago that we decided to get a dog.  My wife had just read the runaway best seller, Marley & Me, and she decided that we needed a dog to complete our family.  I was convinced that only a big dog would work – and it had to be smart.  Glory be, we found a the perfect dog online at the Clatsop County Animal Shelter and because we were quick, we were first in line for him.

Within a few days, and two trips to Warrenton, we came home with Raleigh.

He was perfect – like most Golden Retrievers, kind, friendly, and loved our kids.

Fast forward seven-months and it brings us to today.

Removing a member of the family is never an easy decision.  Granted, a dog doesn’t quite pull the same weight as a human member, but after several months, we had become quite attached to Raleigh.  But, I think we’ve known for some time that this realtionship wasn’t going to work out.

  • First, the biggest problem.  Our Darling Daughter just wasn’t bonding with the dog.  Well, not only was she not bonding, she hated him.  From her perspective, just a 1/2 inch over three-feet and under 30 pounds, this 100 pound, four-legged bundle of joy was just too much to handle.  Although Raleigh loves people, his love too much for her.
  • Second, while we were taking steps to correct it, Raleigh was aggressive to other dogs.  It really wasn’t fun to walk him or take him out.  Not only did he have to stay on a leash, but he had to stay on a short leash.  We read Cesar Millan’s book and we were following his instruction to help him be less aggressive, but he wasn’t getting the biggest treatment – more exercise.  That is mostly my fault.
  • Finally, in the last couple of weeks as we were trying to make up our mind, our poor ignorant dog began pulling recycling out of the bins, chewing it, and spreading it far and wide.  I tried to explain to him that he wasn’t helping his case, but the chewing seemed to get worse and worse.

On the way into town the other day, I asked our Darling Daughter if we should keep Raleigh.  She said no.  I asked her if she’d be sad.  Again, no.  Too bad The Wife didn’t feel the same way.

As we talked it over though, we knew it was the right choice.  Fortunately, when I delivered Raleigh back to the Clatsop County Shelter, Deputy Steve was very supportive.  He kept telling me over and over that we were making the right choice.  Not only is it not good for our Darling Daughter to be traumatized with a lifetime of dog-phobia (no, that isn’t the medical term), but it wasn’t worth traumatizing the dog and teaching him to dislike children.

The deputy’s reassurance was very helpful.  This shelter has a high-placement record and they do a great job of screening those who want to adopt animals.  On top of it all, Golden Retrievers get snatched up quickly.  There were five other people in line behind us when we got Raleigh.  I know he’ll get adopted soon.

It was a hard choice, and one we didn’t want to make.  I’m pretty sure I won’t judge others so harshly in the future, when they make a difficult and very personal choice like this.

So today, after seven months of friendship and several weeks of wrestling with difficult choices, I drove Raleigh back to the shelter.  May you find a loving home with lots of room to run my dear friend.  We’ll miss you.

Healthy Expectations

December 7, 2008

As I’ve written in an earlier post, Christmas was always a big deal for me as a kid.  My Mom went out of her way to make it special and I treasure those memories.  As a fledgling adult, I tried hard to duplicate those memories.  Tried to relive those childhood Christmases past.  But something happened in 1981 that sent my world reeling.

One Summer night, after two and a half years of a rocky marriage, my then wife announced that she was no longer in love with me.  I lived out of a fire station and my truck for a few months, and tried to regain some semblance of normalcy to my life before picking up the pieces and moving on.

I think it was Christmas 1982 when my priorities were reordered though.  Compared to most 20somethings, I was making really good money – about 300% more than I’d ever made in my life.  That firefighting gig was pretty cool. 

But in the middle of a messy divorce (show me one that’s not messy) and going to paramedic school – all the while working overtime shifts for a local ambulance company and working on my clinical rotations and internship.  Life was busy, stressful, and very painful that Winter.

My one source of joy was when I made one trip to Washington Square and spent a boatload of money on my family.  It was so much fun to buy things for them that were more meaningful than my previous budget allowed.  While there, I ran into a girl I went to school with at Tigard High School. I had the biggest crush on her, way back then.

Cindy went with me to go get a Christmas tree. Originally I wasn’t going to get one, but it was a good ploy to spend time with her. After we took the tree to my place, she left.  Now I was more depressed than ever.

It was at that point that I decided not to get my hopes up about Christmas ever again.  “It was a stupid holiday anyway!” I said to myself.  I wasn’t even sure there was a God anyway, and if there was no God, then Christmas had no meaning other than the celebration of the pagan Winter solstice.  If there really was a Jesus, scholars have already pointed out that he was born in the Spring.

Over the next several decades, I greatly downplayed Christmas. Granted, I wasn’t a Scrooge or a Grinch or anything, but I just kept my expectations low.  But something happened this week.

[UPDATE 12-09-08] I heard on the John Tesh Radio show tonight that 78% of Americans experience significant stress during the Christmas Holiday Season.  This is what I’m talking about overcoming!]

I was driving home from the Westside Portland Tweetup when I began to flip through radio stations and I discovered a station playing all Christmas music. Something happened – it was a flood of childhood memories – and best of all, I let it happen. I’ve been listening to Christmas music all week too!

[UPDATE: I used to cringe when I heard the first Christmas music. “Too much,  too soon, not now!”  But, as soon as Thanksgiving is over, I’m good with it. Bring it on!]

I think I’ve found the balance.  Christmas is no longer a sentimental journey into childhood greed.  I no longer have to create the unrealistic expectations of a “perfect” retrospective holiday.  I know now, better than ever, who I am and where I fit in the “Grand Scheme.” And best of all, I’ve worked through the agnostic angst of those pain-ridden, post-divorce years.

I also accept the fact that Jesus was born in the Spring, but I no longer have a need to fix the world.  I no longer need to save people from their ignorance.

I think having kids has a lot to do with that.  My Darling Daughter is now old enough to sing carols and to enjoy all the pretty lights.  She is also old enough to understand that some people spend a lot of money on Christmas, but some people don’t even have enough money to eat.

Already this is shaping up to be a great Christmas season!  How is it for you?