Part Two - Suicide Prevention Workshop at Warminster Hospital

Good morning!

I had a wonderful night's sleep and after waking up, began to read a John Sandford book Scott lent me. I'm nearly done and wanna finish cuz "them" by Joyce Carol Oates is waiting for me at the library. I have it listed on a scrap of paper affixed with a magnet to my fridge as 100 Books You Must Read.

Hadn't realized "John Sandford" is a nom de plume.



While reading this page-turner at 8:45 am, I quickly put it down.

At 9 am I was sposed to mail The Compass file to Rene at Boggs Printing.

Oh no! I thought. I haven't anything by poet Kym Cohen, so I emailed her and thank goodness she responded quickly with a poem and a bio.

Here are the files which I posted on FB. Everyone wants to know when the Compass, the mental health mag of New Directions is coming out.

Eight people were at the Prevention Seminar. As Deb said, it was cozy and intimate and we could take time to discuss various things. Would love to have Deb speak at the Giant Supermarket. We'll discuss it later on.

I was pleased to see Phil O. of our group - New Directions Support Group - at the seminar. Winters are always tough for him. He once advised our group - see Phil, how we remember good suggestions - to look at photos of warm climes, as in the Caribbean Islands.


Phil told us an amazing story. Thanks, Phil, for letting me publish it. Next time we'll have to put it in the Compass.

Phil, who lives in Ambler, is 73 yrs old. He's doing very well. Ages ago, he helped us with a homeless woman named Laura. She finally got a job. I remember once pressing a $20 bill in her hand. For your children, I said.

Phil and his brother, Steve, both have bipolar.

When they were younger, they both suffered so horrifically that they attempted to take their own lives.

They had NO IDEA that what was making them so depressed was the DEPRESSION part of bipolar d/o.

This was in the 1960s before the illness was widely known and before the advent of Lithium, the little pink pill I used to take and did really well on.... until.... you know the rest.

 

Even tho Phil and Steve are a year and a half apart - Phil's the older brother - and "exact opposites" - their symptoms were identical.

They also lived on opposite ends of the country. Phil, I never knew you lived in Seattle. But then you probly didn't know I lived in Ossining, NY.

Multiple suicide attempts were made between the two brothers.

Phil was diagnosed when he was 49 and put on lithium.

All that suffering, he said, to finally find a medication that worked!

Stress and lots of responsibility - a growing family - were contributors to the suicidal feelings.

As Deb Ryan emphasized, it's not just ONE THING that makes you suicidal, it's a combination of many factors.

Deb works at The Penn Foundation, which offers a multidiscip'y approach to various psychiatric conditions.

In 2012, Ellen Rosenberg and I attended a talk at Penn Foundation by Jane Pauley, who spoke to an overflow crowd. Read about it on my blog here. 

Here's Louise, a former Lit Teacher at Temple University, Raighny Kirk who is trained as a speaker of Suicide Prevention, and Debbie Moritz head of Bucks County NAMI.

Debbie presents all these Forums, which are so helpful!

Debbie Moritz

I thought I heard Debbie say that one of her family members - husband? - was on a trip to go rock climbing. But, no. He's on a cruise where rock stars appear.

They were thrilled when they saw

     Read about "the Godfather of Shock Rock" here.

Always a pleasure to see the adorable Betsey Kirk, my Lake Galena boating companion. She bought her sweater jacket at a thrift shop in Doylestown.


 She told me her husband Will is now retired. I asked him what he's doing in his retirement years.

Writing, he said. He's working on a novel. It's about the start of a new religion.

He attends the Bucks County Writer's Workshop in Doylestown.

Listen, I'm not one of those people who say, "I hate snow. I can't wait until spring is here."

I consider it a challenge.

I try to appreciate the beauty of each day and find joy in the things I do.... like vacuuming all the popcorn from the living room floor. Oy! such pains I had in my stomach when I rode my stationery bike before going to sleep.

I also accept the frigid weather as a challenge. How else can you think about it?

My sister Donna thrives in the cold weather. As does Elyse Bonner at the Giant.

Did you know that you can unintentionally say something kind and caring to a person who is thinking of taking their own life?

Deb handed out a sheet of paper, a reprint from "Chicken Soup for the Soul" called "A Simple Gesture" by John W Schlatter.

When the author was a teenager he helped Bill pick up a bunch of school supplies he was carrying and dropped on the sidewalk.

It was not until later that Bill told him the reason why.

He was emptying out his locker b/c he was gonna kill himself.

The kind words stopped him.

"Giving away of things" is one of the warning signs. 

I shared a story about a guy in my support group, "Ben," an insulin-dependent person with diabetes, who last year tried to kill himself by injecting loads of insulin.

At our last meeting on Tuesday night, he said, "I figured out why it didn't work. I injected Lantus."

Aha.... that's the slow-working insulin.

Ben also shared that his diabetes doctor - he goes to the same practice I do at the Executive Mews in Willow Grove - said he could inject above his belly button. (He is getting an insulin pump.)

So now, I do dat! It's nearly painless.

 Novolog pen and daily meds, none of which are for moodswings, thankfully. My Prograf and prednisone gave me diabetes.

I emailed Laura Fitzpatrick, my endocrinologist three poems I've written about diabetes. She wrote back and said "They were wonderful."

Here's one of em.

DIABETES HOLDS THE POWER OF LIFE AND DEATH

In the middle of the night

I awoke

something was wrong

very wrong

my legs propelled me

past my stationery bike

and down the stairs

darkness outside

darkness within

Watch me stumble

to the kitchen

switch on the light

it blinds me with

its wah-wah rhythms

Leaning over the

table, I think

“You’re low!

Your sugar

so low you’ll

pass out. Scott

will find you in the

morning, blue, stiff

ready for the sarcophagus.

My brain had forgotten

how to think

See me pound my

fist on the table

Save yourself or die!

A shiver of thrill

went through me

I saw Death,

sitting in the empty chair.

"Fiend!" I cried,

as I found my bag of

whole grain pretzels

at the table’s edge

Crunch! said the bag

I stuck in my hand

a bear at the hive

and came up with all

the honey I needed, and,

shaking, trembling,

and sweating,

saved my life.

This time.