The Things We Think and Do Not Say

Never Again the Same

You tend to make friends wherever you work, and when you work in healthcare, particularly mental healthcare those friends, the real ones, stick around. When you put down roots in a community, you tend to get to know some of the locals as well. And, it’s inevitable that when you live and work in the same community, you’re going to see the same people at work that you do in the grocery store.

Living and working in Waterbury, Vermont was enjoyable for me. It had its ups and downs, like any life does, but for the most part I was content to lead a small but complex life free from controversy or tragedy. Over the years I took many of the people I worked with out for a day of fishing. Some days the catching was better than others. I always enjoyed watching others catch their first or their biggest fish though. It was never my plan to “outfish” anyone.

Years went by and I found myself taking the kids of some of my coworkers fishing. Eager to learn and go on a “real” boat – something that many of them never did, the relationships formed moved from teacher and student to friends. As the kids became adults I occasionally still sent text messages to a select few seeking a companion for a day on the water. I worked for many years alongside one of these kids’s mother. She was a fantastic nurse and in addition to him had a couple of older boys. But, the youngest was the one who enjoyed fishing. I later learned that he really liked doughnuts too. REALLY liked them. Most importantly, he was a good person who was easy to get along with. He never said a whole lot, which in a boat is a solid addition to any fishing day.

Of course, time went by, and the boys got older. His mom continued her education and moved jobs. Hurricane Irene came through New England and decimated the state of Vermont. Many of my coworkers were displaced. Embracing change is difficult. I did manage to stay in contact though. It was via social media that I learned one of her boys had passed away in a motor vehicle accident. It’s impossible to describe the feeling after reading about it. Compassion, empathy, and a profound sense of uncertainty weigh heavy. There really is nothing you can say to a parent who loses a child. Nothing. You only know that it has happened, and being a friend you offer what feels only like empty condolences. “I’m sorry”, amounts to very little.

At the wake, while I was pleased to see everyone, I did not have much to say. Handshakes and hugs with the boys, who were now men, felt full and empty at the same time. It did give me the opportunity to invite my now older, young friend fishing though. It had been a while. He had just finished his first enlistment in the US Navy and despite the obvious tragedy I extended the invite to hopefully get his mind off things for a bit. His mom approved. I’ll never forget the emotion of feeling so out of place and wanting to do something good for someone at the same time – and still feeling as though it could never be enough.

In the boat a week later, my greatest fear was confirmed. His brother hadn’t died in a tragic motorcycle accident. He had taken his life on the evening of his birthday.

Working in this industry does not prepare you to hear that from a friend. There are days when I think about it and feel so small and insignificant. I think of my own sister who passed away over a decade ago and the emotions I felt. I cannot imagine what my mother felt. I don’t want to dwell on that. I only know that no words will ever assuage that pain.

“Time heals all wounds”.

They never tell you about how new memories will be clouded by the immense regret and helplessness of those moments. The cautiousness and mindfulness causes great change in a person. I think differently about a lot of things now. Maybe it’s experience that is blossoming in to wisdom. Perhaps I’m just getting older.

Working in the psychiatric department of a hospital is not easy. I tell everyone that I’m able to turn the switch off and on in coordination with the task at hand. But, the truth is, that task orientation is only a defense mechanism that is in place and developed instinctually for our own survival. It’s why I almost never raise my voice at work and why I defend my coworkers with the vigilance and fury of an older brother - regardless of hierarchy.

I enjoy my coworkers and their brilliance at times. The other truth is that I know absolutely nothing about what they’re going through in their lives other than superficial work conversations. Much of what gets spoken about at work amounts to banal platitudes, but being employed in the psych department has educated us and given us a deeppower of observation that many others lack.  I’ve often described it as “being able

to feel what’s happening around a corner.”

“Psych makes you a better person.” I firmly believe that. It’s up to each person who I work with to figure out why it does that though. If you look around while reading this, view your coworkers nearby. I hope you’re able to smile a bit. I hope you understand how fortunate you are. “Luck” and “chance” are not part of the equation. We all choose to be where we are.

I’m pleased to report that the time we spent on the water that day was one of my best days ever. We caught a ton of fish – quantity and quality. And, for a moment at least, my friend was able to be mindful about something other than the pall that had been cast over his family the week before. I wish I’d been able to do more.

I fish because I enjoy it, and I enjoy the people around me when I get the chance to go. I prefer fishing with others not just because it’s easier to launch or trailer a boat either. Being on the boat allows for a sort of “philosophical problem solving” to take place, and it’s only then that my mind is quiet enough to reason through that process. I am keenly aware that suicide is a taboo subject in many circles. I am also aware that it has in some way touched everyone’s life – somehow, somewhere. Even the most stoic and gruff of fishermen would offer up a seat in their boat for someone if they knew it would save a life. They’d buy them a cup of coffee on the ride to the lake. They’d laugh and joke and maybe listen to some music while recalling better times.  

The problem is that many people never say a word. You just find out the next day that something has happened. And things are never again the same.