Suicide and the ER

Suicide has been in the news and on my mind lately. On the heels of the deaths of Anthony Bourdain and Kate Spade, another suicide hit close to home last week. The niece of one of my best friends killed herself. She was young, beautiful, and seemed to have a life very much worth living. She left behind a husband and two young children. There is nothing to say to ease the pain and confusion of her extended family and friends.

Fortunately for those of us who struggle, or have family and friends who struggle, with suicidal thoughts, there was some hopeful news today. I read about a recent study focusing on "a simple emergency room intervention" which cut the risk of suicide in half. And the intervention used was truly simple; a safety plan and phone calls.

The study coordinators trained emergency room staff to create a safety plan with each patient prior to discharge. And here's the key, I think, the staff followed up with phone calls to the patient after discharge. The first phone call was made within 72 hours, and the staff continued calling until the patient followed up at least twice with a mental health professional.

I have experience creating a safety plan. The inpatient hospital unit in which I've been a patient requires one be developed prior to discharge. While the staff there do not follow up with phone calls, I have found the safety plan an effective coping tool. The friend whose niece just died is actually an integral piece of my safety plan. I've found it helpful to have a written plan when I've felt low, alone and desperate, especially in the days immediately following hospital discharge.

Unfortunately my emergency room experiences, at the same hospital as this healing inpatient unit, have not always been helpful. And as the comments on my recently republished post prove, I'm not alone in having negative emergency room experiences. That's why I find this study so hopeful. It's focused on teaching ER staff to assist patients in need, mental health patients, who don't always get the most unbiased, compassionate treatment otherwise.

Suicide is a desperate act committed by a desperate person. Unfortunately, I understand the desperation. I've experienced the pain, the isolation, the utter hopelessness which leads a person to consider that end. If ER staff, or any mental health provider, can cut the risk of suicide in half just by taking the time to create a safety plan with their patient, I'm all for it. I hope emergency rooms around the country will get on board. A little compassion, and a simple plan, goes a long way.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-TALK

Go Play

Playing is so important to my mental health. I may be 50, but I still like to be silly when given the chance. And truthfully, any time of day is a chance to be silly, have fun, or laugh as far as I'm concerned. Fortunately, I had an unexpected opportunity to play July 4th and 5th. I thought I had to work. I found out I didn't, so I took an impromptu trip to see my family and friends in Duluth. And while I don't have any pictures of the beautiful fireworks display, I do have these.

This is my baby brother. He hosted me at his house for two days. We had a wonderful family barbecue on July 4th, went to the beach with my nephews and the dogs, watched the fireworks, took in a few big ships coming into port, and played in Duluth's Canal Park.

This is one of the ships coming off Lake Superior into port, under the Aerial Lift Bridge, in Duluth on July 5th. I grew up seeing these ships out on the lake and coming into the harbor, but I've never tired of the experience. This ship was 1000 feet long. It's fun to see and hear the tourists' excitement, too. For many of them, this will be a once in a lifetime experience. I don't take my ability to repeatedly see this sight for granted.

These four pictures are of my nephew, Connor, age 9, and I, age 50(!), as we climb a few walls. I was a bit of a rock climber in college (actual rocks, as they didn't have climbing walls way back then), but I don't remember it being quite so challenging! My legs were fine, but my poor arms and hands are still sore 2 days later! What fun, though! I wish I hadn't gotten so tired after only 4 climbs. I would liked to have climbed all afternoon. If you're ever looking for a very mindful, challenging activity to take your mind away for a bit, climbing is it! I had forgotten that. You can't focus on anything other than your hands, feet, and trembling muscles while hanging onto a wall 50 feet off the ground. This may be my new go-to activity next time I'm struggling with my mood. I'm going to check out the local climbing gym as soon as I can lift my arms again!

There you have it, folks. Two days of playful fun. It was a spur of the moment trip, and I wanted to take full advantage. Mission accomplished. I think those of us who struggle with depression have to make an extra effort to get outside of ourselves and look for opportunities for enjoyable distraction whenever possible. I know it makes a huge difference for me. Depression, even when we're not stuck in the darkest hole, likes to steal joy, and laughter, and fun. I refuse to allow it. It is because I have depression that I must make the effort to find joy in everyday life, and when I have the chance, to seek out extra adventures to feed my soul. Go play, my friends!

Little things

A couple of days ago, I found myself grinning from ear to ear and happier than could be. And then I found myself giggling, at myself, for being so giddy. You see, it was all about a hat. That's it. Just a hat.

I have several baseball hats, all different colors, with many different logos, but this hat is my favorite. I've had it for years and wear it more than any other I own. So when a snap on the adjustable strap broke a few weeks ago I was really disappointed. On Thursday, I found someone who could fix it, and he did so in 5 minutes! Hence my giddiness as I walked out his door.

I experienced a similar giddiness just a couple of weeks ago. That time it was about a chair; a 28-year-old, black, leather reclining chair with matching ottoman. It was the only chair I ever sat in. It was the chair in which I watched television, read magazines, took naps, and wrote many blog posts. I sat in it a couple of weeks ago, and it broke. I was so sad!

For days I regaled my coworkers with semi-faux trauma over the loss of my chair, and we all had a good laugh. I put the chair outside to be thrown out with the trash, and I began my search for a new one. Well, I discovered they just don't make things like they used to. Rather than real leather, steel, and a fully reclining seat, I found all sorts of junk for all kinds of money. I was disgusted.

I decided maybe I didn't have to throw away my beloved chair after all. I couldn't believe it, but I found someone to fix it. I drove the 30 minutes to her farmhouse and sheepishly presented her with my well-worn, broken chair. No problem, she said! Her husband would fix the mechanics, and she would take care of the rest. Giddiness! I should be in possession of my brand new, old and beloved, chair in just a few days!

It's the little things. I'm glad I have the capacity to appreciate little things like this. I think that's important. I also think it speaks to how well I've been feeling lately. If I wasn't feeling well I'm sure I would not have giggled with joy over a silly, fixed hat or at the prospect of reupholstering a really old chair. But I am smiling, giggling, and satisfied. Sometimes little things mean a lot.

Part time worker and runner

A few weeks ago I posted about possibly switching from part time hours to full time hours, with added benefits such as health insurance, paid time off, and a 401K. I haven't worked full time in at least 15 years, but after some contemplation, I decided to give it a try.

It was then that the area supervisor informed me my salary would be decreased since I was "going to get benefits." Okay. I get that. It would have been nice to have been informed of that when she asked me to consider full time employment, but I get it.

Strangely, the area supervisor didn't have a number for me. In fact, it took 3 weeks for my employer to get back to me with a salary offer. Fortunately, they made my decision simple. No way. The offer was so far below my current salary, I didn't have to think twice about it. I need to pay my bills. And as much as I would appreciate paid time off, paid time off doesn't pay my bills.

So I will continue to work part time, pay for my own health insurance, and hope not to require large chunks of time off secondary to sickness or injury. It's a risk I'm willing to take, as financial instability is a big trigger for me, and I'm enjoying paying my bills right now.

In other news, I just received my fourth of five Hyaluronic Acid injections into my right knee. I think they are helping, although not nearly to the level I would like. I'm continuing to run on the Alter-G treadmill, now at 68% of my body weight, without difficulty. However, running on the road, or trying to do any quad strengthening still hurts. It's tricky. I need to strengthen my quads in order to avoid further injury, but I can't strengthen my quads because my knee hurts when I try. Frustrating.

Despite my frustration, I do have some hope. After all, the injections have helped. Perhaps the fifth and final injection next week will put me over the top. I miss running so much. I can't wait to get back to it. I'm hanging onto the hope I eventually will have the opportunity to train again.

Vacation photos

I just returned from a long weekend in Duluth. It was Grandmas Marathon weekend, and though it was difficult, as I wanted to be running rather than standing on the sideline, I did enjoy watching the race on Saturday. I also spent a lot of time with my mom and step-dad, my brother, sister-in-law and nephews, and my friends, Mary and Jim. I hiked a lot, ate a lot, and generally had a really nice, relaxing four days. As usual it was tough to leave today, but it is always nice to be home, too. Enjoy the photo diary below.

This is Elisha Barno from Kenya. He raced by me so fast I was only able to capture his back! He won by well over two minutes in a time of 2:10:06, the third fastest time in race history, and his fourth Grandmas victory in a row.

This is Kellyn Taylor, a Wisconsin native, totally dialed in as she ran past me at the 23.5 mile mark. She won by over 6 minutes, shattered the course record by over two minutes, and won her first marathon in a personal best time of 2:24:28. She looked awesome!

 On Sunday Jet and I went on a 4.2 mile hike on the Superior Hiking Trail with my good friend, Mary. Here we are next to a rushing Keene Creek. Jet wasn't too thrilled with the hug. He just wanted to get going.

 This is a photo of the Aerial Lift Bridge, at the opening of the Duluth Harbor, from a ridge along our trail high above the city. The Duluth Harbor is the innermost sea port in the world. Ocean vessels travel 2342 miles (or 3700 kilometers), across the fresh water Great Lakes, from the Atlantic Ocean to pick up and deliver cargo in Duluth.

 Jet and I rambling down another section of the trail through the trees. It was a beautiful day on a beautiful and interesting trail.

This morning, Jet and I hiked around Enger Tower, which sits on another ridge high above Duluth. The land on which this tower, adjacent park, golf course, and hiking trails are located was donated to the City of Duluth by a cool dude named Bert Enger upon his death in 1931. The tower was originally built in 1939. It offers panoramic views of the city, which were particularly gorgeous on a clear blue day today.

 A view of a ship leaving the harbor from Enger Tower. The Aerial Lift Bridge is an iconic symbol of Duluth, Minnesota. The bridge span elevates 180 feet to let ships enter and leave the harbor. It is one of only two lift bridges in the world. The other one is in France. I grew up here, and I never tire of watching the ships come and go. If you'd like to see it for yourself, go to the Duluth Harbor Cam website and check it out. 

 My beautiful boy, Jet, hanging out on a bench at the top of Enger Tower. He's impossible when I try to photograph him, as he refuses to look at the camera! This is 1 of about 20 photos I took of him while he sat on this bench, and this was as close as he got to looking directly at me!

 After our hike at Enger Tower, Jet and I drove over the Aerial Lift Bridge to Park Point and took a long walk on the beach. Here's Jet running back to me after romping in the surf. I don't usually let him off leash, so he was really enjoying his freedom.

The end.

Suicide and Facebook

Last week, something very strange happened. While out walking with Jet, I found a turtle in the middle of a long, wooden bridge, 40 feet above the creek. It was hot and the turtle seemed a bit lethargic. After all three of us stared at each other for awhile, I decided to relocate the turtle to the creek's edge. He quickly dove in and was off. I posted my experience, with a couple of humorous quips, to Facebook.

Yesterday, I shared a post on Facebook, something I very rarely do. It was a post by a woman named Claudia Herrera, and it was about Kate Spade's suicide. Ms. Herrera lamented the fact that, despite owning multiple Kate Spade designed accessories, she had no idea Ms. Spade suffered from depression. She goes on to highlight all of the celebrities whose health struggles she had heard about, Swayze, Letterman, and Nixon among them. My favorite quote, "...somehow society has made it more acceptable to talk about breasts and testicles than about the mind..." Her point, very well made, is that depression is an illness, and it deserves the same compassionate treatment as other illnesses. Perhaps then, those of us who suffer will not feel the need to hide our condition until the bitter, tragic end.

My Facebook post about a turtle received multiple comments and 45 Likes. My shared post about suicide received 0 comments and 2 Likes. We've got a long way to go, Ms. Herrera, a long, long way. Rest in peace Kate Spade. Rest in peace Anthony Bourdain. I'm sorry both of you silently suffered.

***If you or someone you know may be considering suicide, contact the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255.

No drama

I'm not a fan of drama.

No drama means I'm playing well with others--friends, family, and coworkers.
No drama means I'm taking care of my patients and performing the expected duties of my job.
No drama means I'm feeling well and staving off depression symptoms.
No drama means I'm exercising, eating what I should, and taking my medications.
No drama means I'm taking care of my home and paying my bills.
No drama means I'm generally taking care of myself physically, mentally and spiritually.
No drama means I'm staying in the moment and living one day at a time.
No drama means I'm not rehashing the past or dreading the future.
No drama means I'm controlling what I can and letting go of the rest.
No drama means I'm maintaining an attitude of gratitude, noticing the small stuff, and acknowledging others.
No drama is a very good thing.

I'm happy to report my life is drama free at the moment, and I'm enjoying every minute of it.

Full time?

I have a decision to make. It's been suggested I consider taking a full-time position at my place of employment. While I'm glad my employer and coworkers appreciate me enough to want me around more frequently, I'm also worried about working more hours every week. It's a big decision, but I'm considering it.

There certainly would be benefits to increasing my hours. My company doesn't provide benefits for any employee working under 30 hours per week. No insurance, no paid time off, no 401K, etc... So while working part-time allows me a lot of flexibility with my schedule, it also costs me a lot of money for health insurance, almost $700 per month, or for any days I take off. So there are some compelling reasons to consider increasing my hours.

However, I also have concerns about increasing my hours. I've had a difficult time working more than 30 hours per week for years. Ever since my depression began, I've had to carefully control my energy expenditure at work. Too many days in a row, or too many long days, and I'm shot. Putting it simply, my brain gets tired. When my brain gets tired, my overall functioning, not just my work functioning, suffers. And when my functioning suffers, I am at much higher risk of a depression relapse. I certainly don't want to do anything which may lead to a depression relapse.

On the other hand, I have been working between 25-30 hours per week for a several months now. Would I risk a relapse by working just a few more? I guess that's the big question. Of course, I won't know the answer unless I experiment. I don't want to let fear of relapse determine my decision, but I don't want to sink into depression again, either. So this is a big decision.

I'm ever so slightly leaning toward giving it a try. I would have to increase from 3.5 days per week to 4 days per week, and each day would likely be a bit longer than I currently work. But I would still have one full day off per week. I absolutely need that. My brain just can't handle 5 consecutive days. I'm worried. I'm apprehensive. But it seems like something I should try.

Perhaps I'll ask for a trial, and if it doesn't work, I'll make sure I'd be allowed to return to part-time. If my employer is willing to do that, I almost have to give it a shot. Right?

Quite a year

I passed a milestone of sorts the other day. On May 21, 2017, I woke up coughing just after midnight and my L4 disc exploded. It's been quite a year. Surgery, depression relapse and hospitalization, ongoing left leg weakness, a brief return to running, and then arthroscopic knee surgery from which I have yet to recover, followed. Yup. It's been quite a year.

I feel like I've had one battle after another over the past year. Sometimes I look back and think I handled things well. Sometimes I look back with discouragement. Certainly I'd like to be in a different spot right now. Ideally I'd like to be preparing to run the Med-City Marathon right here in Rochester on Sunday. Instead, I'll be on the Alter-G treadmill. I guess that's better than nothing.

I had my third Hyaluronic Acid injection in my right knee today. I think it's improving a bit. I have a little less pain when descending stairs, so that's hopeful. I'm trying to remain optimistic and patient, but it's difficult. I'm not sure I'm being totally successful.

I'll keep doing what I can do physically. Hopefully I'll soon be writing about my return to the road, rather than rehashing a not-so-hot past year. That will be a great day.

Worried

I'm worried. Maybe that's a good thing? Things are going so well I have time and energy to worry? Perhaps. I'm not usually much of a worrier, so I'm a bit uncomfortable and trying my best to knock it off, but I'm worried nonetheless.

Like I said, things are going well at home, at work, and everywhere in between. My mood is good. My energy is good. I'm working, planning, taking care of my business. My house is even clean! But my knee... oh, my damn knee.

It's not just about running anymore. Yes, I hoped I would be well on my way to another marathon by now, well on my way, but there's more to it than that. I have a bucket list trip planned for October. I will be hiking to the base camp of Mount Everest. During a 20 day hike in the Himalayas, I will be ascending over three mountain passes between 17,600 and 18,200 feet. It will be quite challenging, but I never doubted I could do it. Until now.

My biggest concern up until now has been the possibility of altitude sickness, which would end my trip in a heartbeat. But with my knee continuing to pain me, even on a simple set of stairs, I am now more worried about the actual hiking than anything else.

I have been preparing for this trip for years. I have been saving money, researching trekking companies, learning about the culture of Nepal, and pouring over trekking blogs for information. I'm ready to go. Except for my knee. And because of my knee, except for my legs.

My legs are weaker today than they've been in my entire adult life. Where I used to have muscles, I only have flab. It's impossible to keep the quads strong with a painful knee. I'm getting frustrated and anxious, worried... I'm trying to hold out hope that I have enough time to prepare, but I can't begin to prepare until my knee doesn't hurt. And my knee still hurts.

This is not good. I need some encouragement, or better yet an encouraging sign that I'll one day have a knee I can count on. Until that day comes, I'm having a difficult time not worrying.