Depression, suicide and the strange reactions to what one would consider triggers.
Four years ago this past August 4th I was sitting up and drinking heavily, which was not unusual for me then. I'm not an alcoholic, but as many people on this site know I suffer from fits of clinical depression. My official diagnosis is "Major Depressive Disorder with Suicidal Features". I just love the way they add the "Suicidal Features" part as if you're going to see a movie or dinner theater. The depression is chemical, most likely inherited and it runs through my family to varying degrees. I have one of the worse cases. I also have PTSD caused most likely by a combination of being raped (I hate the word "molested". It sounds too gentle or even excusable) when I was seven years old and by a very nasty second divorce 17 years earlier. My second wife was bi-polar, manic-depressive, though I didn't know it at the time I married her. We had two sons and she had three suicide attempts and I lost custody of my children to her parents while she was in a state hospital in Michigan and then my house burned down during the divorce with myself and my three young sons visiting and I ended up in ICU (I got them out unhurt) and then I was charged with arson and spent my life savings on attorney fees (because I was innocent) and the charges were dropped at the Preliminary Exam. Whew!
Anyway, after drinking most of the bottle of scotch (it's amazing how much easier whiskey goes down as you drink more of the bottle), I used the last few swallows to wash down 30 Ambian sleeping pills and 30 Soma muscle relaxants, locked the door to my bedroom, gathered my two dogs in bed with me to go to sleep forever. The odd thing was that there was no particular trigger that day. I had been seeing a psychiatrist for 3 years at that point and a Psychologist for nearly a year and thought I had a pretty good handle on my depression, that I had been struggling with most of my life, with various counselors, therapists, medications and hospitalizations. It had been a pretty normal and in fact even normal day. I had been taking anti-depressants, anti-anxiety drugs and (of course) been self-medicating with booze, as I had been doing for more then 25 years at that point. But again there had been nothing really different about that day that made me feel extra suicidal. I mean I have felt suicidal for most of my life from on degree to another, but most of the time it's like a distant static from and old AM radio i the back of my mind, but some days it blasts through the front of my brain, almost demanding that I do it. That usually happens when my medications aren't balanced right (which needs to be done 2 or 3 times a year). To this day I am not sure why I tried it that night, except to say that I was just plain tired of being sick, not being able to work, having people thinking I was malingering, etc. It just seemed like a good time.
Well obviously it didn't work (or there is a ghost typing this right now), I spent 3 days in intensive care (in leather restraints), spent a time in a locked psychiatric unit and managed to pretty much get it together. There have been times since then that I have felt extremely suicidal, though I almost never drink any longer and I have been in a locked unit again about 18 months ago when I told my Psychiatrist that I didn't trust myself and needed to be somewhere safe until my meds could be balanced again. That time too there was no special trigger that made me feel suicidal, I just felt it. Nothing bad had happened in my life. I have been relatively happily married to my 3rd wife for 22 years now and am on Social Security Disability. Since my meds have been re-balanced (Again. It's a never ending balancing act) about 2 months ago things have been OK. The usual minor irritants of life, but nothing bad.
Then this past Sunday my 80 year old mother who had cracked a couple of vertebrate in her lower neck a few weeks ago had a hard time getting out of bed. She had been feeling a lot weaker the past 2 months since she finally retired (she's a widow)). Instead of calling for one of my sisters in Michigan where she lives to come help, she tried to get up herself and fell down and knocked herself silly. Of course then she couldn't get up off the floor and then called one of my sisters, who call 9-11 and the fire department came and took her to the ER at Saint Mary's hospital in Grand Rapids. I knew about that, but I was called by one of my sisters Wednesday afternoon to say mom was still in the hospital. They had done a CAT scan on the bump on her head and found lesions on the bone of her skull. Of course they did a full body bone scan on Tuesday and found out that she had lesions on just about every bone surface of her body. They scheduled her for a biopsy for Wednesday morning, though it was pretty obvious to the Oncologist that it was stage four bone cancer. They tried to do the Biopsy and couldn't because her BP and heart rate shot up out of control when they tried and they moved her into the ICU instead. Earlier today (New Years Eve) they told her that, if she would agree to a breathing tube they could move her to a nursing home or, if not, to a hospice this afternoon. She refused both.
She told my sisters, brother, her brother and various family members that she wasn't going to fight it and that she wanted to go be with her late husband who died about 18 years ago. I couldn't understand much of what she said, but I told her that I loved her on the phone and my sister, Sandy, said she nodded and smiled. She had her Last Rites and passed away about a hour later, New Years Eve 2015. She was 80 years old.
For many people with depression this would be a trigger to cause them to go off the deep end and who knows I might in a few days. However for right now I am sipping a few glasses of good champagne, glad of the fact that she died painlessly, on her own terms, at peace with herself and spirit, surrounded by family and that she was positive that she would be joining her beloved Bob soon. Of course I cried when I heard about the cancer, that there was nothing that could be done and when she finally passed away. Still I am smiling a bit too. I am toasting her and thinking that some of her last words were that she hoped "That damned funeral home" remembered that she wanted to be buried with one of her favorite Koala Bears in her coffin with her (she had the image of a Koala Bear already carved on her part of the tombstone years ago). That was so her. I also feel luckier then most people because in both the case of my father 17 years ago just before this past Thanksgiving and with my mother this evening, I had a chance to say goodbye and that I loved them and they had a chance to say it back. Far too few children get that opportunity with their parents and it makes me smile a bit to know that they knew.
I love you mom and I always will, I will always miss you and here's to you on your last New Years. A toast for the nearly 60 years since I first met you when I was born. Rest in Peace. You earned it.
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I wrote this an hour ago and it hasn't appeared on the FP yet?
Articles do not appear on the front page "newest discussions" until the first comment is made.
When parents die, part of our past and our experience of self dies too. Except for psychopaths and sociopaths with no feeling, it is always sad and traumatic. My mom and dad have been dead for 10 and 27 years respectively.
I just saw this....Randy, this is VERY well written. I truly admire you courage to write this , and your knowledge to know that we can should live One Day At A Time." Keep on keeping strong!!
An excellent read, Randy. I'm sorry for your loss, but keeping in mind that all life forms are terminal by definition, it sounds like your mom went out at a time and in a manner she was comfortable with.
Here's a toast to staying staying balanced.
A lovely piece, Randy.
I know how much you loved your mom, Randy. I know that you will miss her. But I am also glad to see that you are taking this in the most positive way, that a person can. That shows real inner strength. If ever you go through a bad spot, you know where I am.
Love,
Perrie~
A wonderful piece, Randy.
Randy, I'm so sorry to learn of your mother's passing, but glad that she lived a full life, and was in control of her own body to the very end. That is really something! I'm glad that she was able to direct her own care!
It's very difficult to lose a parent at any age, but when you're younger, I think it's harder. I think you always feel like you missed out on something. At least with your Mom, she was here for most of your life, and she knew you loved her-- the most important thing!
If you need anything, please let me know. Much love to you!
Thanks to all for the condolences. You know when I woke up earlier today one of the first things I did was start to go to her facebook page like I do almost every morning. Of course then I realized there wouldn't be any postings from her, but went anyway and was happy, but not too surprised at all of the friends of hers who wrote such nice things and expressed their condolences also. She had a lot of friends who cared about her, along with her kids and grand kids and great grand kids, nieces, nephews, etc. and to me she left a great legacy behind because of it. Thanks again.
I know you have a lot of struggles but it seems you're handling things well. It has to be frightening to have suicidal impulses like you have.
All we can do is do our best each day.
Best regards to you, Randy
Dear Friend Randy: My private notes section and through that personal email are always available to you.
Mrs. E. joins me in expressing our most sincere condolences on your loss.
Enoch.
Thanks again for the condolences and offers of help. I'm actually handling this better then I thought I would. What at one time in my life would have been a bad trigger of depression just isn't this time. I think that it's because for me to feel sorry for myself, or even suicidal, would be just too disrespectful to the memory of her. I know everyone (or nearly so anyway) thinks their mother is special, but to tell the truth I had good reason to be angry, resentful, hurt and even hateful of her from things that happened many years ago. Still they were many years ago and her and I reconciled a long time ago and I can honestly say I have not held any hard feelings, only love, toward her for many years. I think that more then anything else I am happy for her because she is no longer in any pain, died peacefully on her own terms and that, no matter my own personal feelings on the subject of religion, she was comforted by the Last Rites from the Catholic Church and died happy and positive that she would be with her late husband again. I take a great deal of comfort in that myself.
Oh and I wrote the Priest who will be conducting the Mass and asked that he personally check to make sure her favorite stuffed Koala Bear is in the casket before it's closed.
Randy don't really know you but my heart goes out to you. Sounds like you was lucky enough to have a wonderful mother. Always remember the good times.
Your writing commands we all pay attention, even if it frightens us. I would expect yer ma would be proud of the fight in you too. Find peace in that strength.
"All these people'll live as long as you remember 'em." ~Fried Green Tomatoes (Flagg).
Randy - you have my admiration and respect. Your mom was lucky to have you - and you were lucky to have her. Keep her alive in your mind 'cause she'll always be there.
Thanks again to all. The funeral was this past Thursday and an according to a phone call from my brother and emails from some of my sisters it was beautiful. I wish I cloud have attended, however I did send an email to the Priest who celebrated the Mass and asked him to relay a few paragraphs about my mother from me as sort of a eulogy and he did. She was buried with her favorite stuffed Koala Bear from her collection, a puppet from my brother and the robe of her late husband, which unbeknownst to me she had slept with every night in the many years since he had died. The funereal was well attended, with many of her co-workers from Social Security attending where she had worked for 35 years until just this past October. In fact my brother told me that the local office was nearly shutdown as just about everyone was there instead of at work.
Her husband and her had prearranged their funerals many years ago, so there were only a few expenses to worry about. My little brother Tim is taking care of dealing with them as the executor. My mom worked long and hard, but left few material possessions behind, as they really didn't seem to mean to much to her anyway. She did however leave behind a brother, a sister, myself and my siblings, 16 grand-children, 16 great grand-children and many, many friends, all of whom loved her very much, so she died a very, very rich woman after all.