12:25pm. It’s my final patient of the morning surgery before lunch and it’s been a tough one. One lovely gentleman’s gone to the emergency room with suspected appendicitis. Another lady’s probably got cancer and Pam has called me three times with the same question. How many ways can one politiely say, ‘No Pam, I have no idea if laxatives are better dissolved in water, than taken and then washed down with lemonade.’
That’s life as a trainee doctor.
Even so, here I am about to cross the finish line for the morning and he steps in. He could very easily be the she that I had last week, or the they I saw a fortnight ago. I find these patients the most difficult. Whilst they come in many different shapes, sizes and colours, there is a dark thread that runs between them all – suicide.
As the stats around suicide continue to make headlines, and mental health spends more time in the public eye, these aren’t just numbers or conditions. These are people.
Suicidality is a state of mind which comes with a distinct set of features.
Burden and no belonging.
You see, everyone needs people. The connectedness we have with other human beings is where we find ourselves. Despite what the Jungle Book said, we are named by people, live with people and without people, we are incomplete.
‘Perceived burdensomeness and thwarted belongingness – risk of suicide’. That’s just medical jargon for feeling like a burden and feeling like you don’t belong here.
So what happens when you feel like you are a pest to people? Always needing money. Always bringing down the mood. Always tearful, hurt, angry, bored and everything else that people just don’t want to be around. Moreover, what happens when you feel like you are not connected? Through the pains and aches of life, you lose your place in the pack.
If you’re a stiff-upper-lip Brit like me, you’ll grin and bear it. But as the days wear on, your mask wears thin. The feeling is small at first, but grows into this headache-meets-nails-on-a-chalkboard siren. The feeling is simple: maybe I shouldn’t be here at all.
Suicide.
Frightened at this thought you can’t shake, you come and see me (well, probably someone more senior than me), the doctor. After we try and trace the history of all these problems, I’ll probably write something like this down on your medical record, ‘Perceived burdensomeness and thwarted belongingness – risk of suicide’. That’s just medical jargon for feeling like a burden and feeling like you don’t belong here. Then I’ll ring the mental health specialists and get you all the help you need.
But this isn’t about suicide, this is about what it means to be human.
To be human is to be connected.
The hes, shes and theys that come through my door get that, because they miss that connection so badly, they’d rather end it all. The question is, do you?
