I’m relatively good at biting my tongue. Perhaps that’s an exaggeration. I’ve been known to occasionally bite my tongue. I’m also, like most people, not that keen on confrontation but there are times when letting remarks go unchallenged can be both damaging to oneself and neglectful. I recently found myself in two such situations where I couldn’t let the comments go without some contesting.
The first: if a person says they are suicidal, they probably aren’t.
The second: if a person wants to die by suicide, they’ll probably find a way.
Both of these comments came from healthcare professionals. I’m sure in many instances these words may hold some truth but not in ours and it would have been entirely remiss of me to not fight my brother’s corner, which I did; calmly, much to my surprise.
My brother died by suicide in October 2014.
Suicide is a complex business, and each case is entirely unique with individual reasons behind it but this particular case is about a young man asking for help; asking to be saved. It won’t be everyone’s story but it is ours.
J was the life and soul of every party. He was Buddhist and a clown; a deep philosopher and a party animal. Everyone adored him and his beauty, charisma and unique insight into the wonders of life made people want to spend time with him. His teenage years were full of basketball, cycling and raves but as the years went on, alongside the many hilarious moments, there would be many, let’s say, bleak ones. He’d often run away from home; why I don’t even think he knew but life became difficult, for us all.
When he was good he was brilliant, but when he was bad he was dire. J was on the brink of suicide around 10 years ago. He ran away from home, drove to Edinburgh, left his van to be impounded and was found, early one morning on the crags in Edinburgh looking out over the precipice. He was discovered, fortuitously, by a doctor who was at a conference there and had luckily gone for an early morning walk. He probably saved my brother’s life that day. Over the years J had relapses and there were times when we didn’t know where he was or if he was even alive but it all came to a head in 2014.
J had become massively involved with drugs. The gorgeous boy who loved life was emaciated and struggling with a habit and presumably with drug dealers on his back. He needed help and every day was consumed with worry and fear about what he might do. I rang every mental health hospital I could find phone numbers for, but none dealt with “dual diagnosis”- both mental health and addiction problems. In many cases they go hand in hand but I couldn’t find anywhere that dealt with the two of them in tandem. Mental health problems? Fine. And drug addiction? No, sorry.
J had become dark, as if he were possessed; he wasn’t himself. The laughter and happiness had entirely evaporated. The eyes to his soul had glazed over as if he were leaving his mind and body behind. He was disappearing.
One afternoon in 2014 both he and our mother booked an emergency appointment with their GP in desperation; they sat and cried with her. “Please help me”, J said. “Please help my son”, my mother cried. The GP could see the severity of their plight and how much he had mentally and physically deteriorated so sent them up to the crisis team at a mental health hospital that afternoon as an emergency.
They went home, J packed his bags assuming he wouldn’t be staying at home for a few days and they left for the hospital. They were met by two nurses. They asked my mother what she wanted them to do. She said she wanted them to section him; to save his life. They said they couldn’t section him. J cried with pure anger and pain in his eyes, “I want to kill myself but I’m too much of a coward”.
They asked him a question; they asked him where he’d like to go if he could be miraculously transported anywhere. He said he’d like go to far away, sit in a field and write. He adored writing. One of the nurses responded, “You aren’t that suicidal then”. They were sent away with some leaflets. My brother asked for help at the eleventh hour; he didn’t want to die, he wanted help to get better but his last life line had just been severed. The next day he jumped in front of a train.
My brother said that he was suicidal and he asked for help. Assuming that most people who say they are suicidal probably won’t go through with it is irresponsible and allows people to freely slip through the net; believing that most people who have the idea to kill themselves can’t be helped is reckless.
I do blame those two healthcare “professionals” for my brother’s death. They could have saved him that day but because of their ill-informed attitudes he is dead. It transpired that there were beds available that night and the conclusion was that the nurses couldn’t have adequately applied the STORM principles during his assessment.
An independent expert noted that it was apparent that at both assessments J had expressed not only suicidal ideation but a plan of throwing himself in front of a train. The crisis team assessment noted, physically noted, that he posed a risk to himself and others, that he was at risk of accidental self-injury, which could be lethal, and that this behaviour could be impulsive. Yet he was sent away. The fundamental failure to recognise the high level of risk, in spite of documenting it was truly negligent.
It may be argued that he would have killed himself later down the line and that may be true; it also may be argued that many people who go there say they are suicidal and aren’t, but each case needs to be reviewed on its individual evidences. Suicide is the biggest killer in men under 45; more than cancer and more than heart disease. 84 men take their own life every week.
Many people’s suicide will come as a complete surprise to their family and friends – but if you believe someone might be contemplating taking their own life, please do whatever you can. Talk to them, ring them to make sure they are OK, take them to the doctor. Trust your instincts and if you do fear for their life, don’t let them out of your sight. Ultimately don’t take no for an answer; their life is too precious to be walked over and to have people pass the buck. Your child, brother, friend, lover can be saved. Don’t believe they can’t. And if they do do it, please don’t blame yourself. You tried your very best.
We’ve never once been angry at J for doing what he did. How could we? He ultimately felt it was the only option he had left. He knew how much we all desperately loved him and we know how much he loved us but he wanted his and our pain to end. J wanted help but in the end he was let down by the system.
We will love him for all of eternity.
Help information
If you need help please talk to friends, family, a GP, therapist or one of the free confidential helpline services. For a full list of national mental health services see yourmentalhealth.ie.
- Samaritans on their free confidential 24/7 helpline on 116-123, by emailing jo@samaritans.ie
- Pieta House National Suicide Helpline 1800 247 247 or email mary@pieta.ie – (suicide prevention, self-harm, bereavement) or text HELP to 51444 (standard message rates apply)
- Aware 1800 80 48 48 (depression, anxiety)
If living in Ireland you can find accredited therapists in your area here:
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