Suicide

I read in the paper today that a suicidal man living in the U.S. went to a mental hospital and asked to be admitted. He indicated to the "intake" coordinator that he had financial difficulties and worried about the world heading towards Armargeddon. He further disclosed that he had tried to hang himself three years ago "but the rope broke". After enduring the wait for more than 12 hours and undergoing the bureaucratic merry-go-around for the paperwork to be finalized, and the uncaring attitude and ineptitude of the mental health "professionals" (sic!) involved, he decided that he had reached the end of the rope and so he hanged himself with a belt. This time he succeeded. Here was the step-by-step mismanagement of the man's care:

* A social worker and case manager failed to read the intake coordinator's report.
* A doctor failed to complete discharge paperwork, delaying the man's
voluntary transfer to a psychiatric facility.
* The man somehow changed into street clothes, in violation of hospital policy---and obtained his belt.
* A technician who was supposed to monitor the man via a camera in his room failed to check on him when he lingered in the bathroom.

Also, here are the details of the last hours of his life:

The nurse assigned to care for the man on the overnight shift said the patient was in street clothes when he arrived at 7 p.m. At 8 p.m., the patient asked about the delay and the nurse noted that the doctor stll needed to complete the paperwork . The nurse did not call the doctor to ask about the delay.

At 11 p.m., the nurse and charge nurse decided to cancel the transfer and the patient was informed. Ten minutes later a nursing assistant found the patient hanging by his neck in the bathroom.

Suicide always fascinates me for reasons I had better keep to myself. A wave of sadness washed over me after I read the above news report this morning. I hope the health officials involved felt bad about the death of that poor man, otherwise they don't belong where they are. Trust me, I know this world is for the strong and the resilient, is for those life does provide a meaning, a reason to keep moving on despite all the pains and the ultimate aburdity since we all die in the end anyway. Albert Camus maintains there is only one truly philosophical question and that is whether to commit suicide or not. During my last sojourn in Vietnam, I ran into a middle aged, skinny, man who lost both his legs. He earnestly begged loudly in the courtyard of a Buddhist temple in Saigon. He was effective in his begging. His earnest, mournful begging voice in combination with his bowing his head down close to the ground evoked much compassion of the visitors. He thus received quite a bit of money. He picked up the money from the hat, emotionally counted the bills, and stuffed them in his bulging pocket. Then he resumed the whole process of looking straight at the eyes of each passing visitor and cryng loudly in his unforgettable mournful, anguishing voice, using the most humble expressions to elicit sympathy and pity, and finally bowing down in a dramatic manner. I watched him, completely transfixed and absorbed by the spectacle. I was marvelled at his will to live. His image has stayed inside my mind ever since. I want to find a reason to live. I want to believe my life does have meaning. I desire to hold dear to a notion that my existence makes a difference to somebody.