Hi everyone. I'm relatively new here, but I hope to be able to be here to share and offer support to others. I'm posting this now probably more for myself than anyone else, but maybe some people here will have some thoughts about it. I'm a mental health professional, and I lost a patient to suicide about 4 months ago. I wanted to offer a view on this from my perspective to people who may be interested.
I worked with this person for about nine months. The person had no previous history of suicide attempts that were disclosed to me, and we worked mainly on this person's mood and employment situation. We met weekly, and the person saw someone for medication as well. From the person's report, things were progressing fairly well. I saw this person on our regular day that week, and two days later I received a page from a family member who let me know that this person had taken their life.
This hit me like a ton of bricks. I cried when I heard the news, and cried even more when family told me that I had meant a lot to this person. I didn't sleep that night, and remember the feeling of crying into my pillow as my spouse tried to comfort me. This lasted for quite a while. I didn't know what I missed, what I could have done. Why didn't this person page me before they did it? How could I have failed them like that?
I had no idea how I could go back to work. I had other patients to see and, to be honest, had no confidence in my ability to help anyone. I don't know how I managed those first few weeks afterward. It was on my mind constantly. Patients that had no issues with suicidal thoughts suddenly became high risk to me. I was screening everyone. I was afraid to take on new patients. If my phone rang I was sure it was someone telling me that another patient was dead. My pager became my sworn enemy. Every time I heard any sort of beep (even my oven or something on TV) my heart began to race. If I had to return a page I was paralyzed with fear. I thought about quitting. I thought, "How can I continue to do this? I'm no good at this."
Four months later things have improved, but I still think about this person frequently. I still check my pager over and over, and still hate to hear anything beep. I can work better with my patients, and feel more competent, but there is doubt there that never existed in the 15 years I had been doing this before. I do what I do because I love people. Losing this patient shook me like I had never been shaken before. I failed. I could have saved them and I failed.
I guess I came here in an effort to interact with some people and maybe understand. This may sound crazy, but i care about you all. Thanks for listening.
I worked with this person for about nine months. The person had no previous history of suicide attempts that were disclosed to me, and we worked mainly on this person's mood and employment situation. We met weekly, and the person saw someone for medication as well. From the person's report, things were progressing fairly well. I saw this person on our regular day that week, and two days later I received a page from a family member who let me know that this person had taken their life.
This hit me like a ton of bricks. I cried when I heard the news, and cried even more when family told me that I had meant a lot to this person. I didn't sleep that night, and remember the feeling of crying into my pillow as my spouse tried to comfort me. This lasted for quite a while. I didn't know what I missed, what I could have done. Why didn't this person page me before they did it? How could I have failed them like that?
I had no idea how I could go back to work. I had other patients to see and, to be honest, had no confidence in my ability to help anyone. I don't know how I managed those first few weeks afterward. It was on my mind constantly. Patients that had no issues with suicidal thoughts suddenly became high risk to me. I was screening everyone. I was afraid to take on new patients. If my phone rang I was sure it was someone telling me that another patient was dead. My pager became my sworn enemy. Every time I heard any sort of beep (even my oven or something on TV) my heart began to race. If I had to return a page I was paralyzed with fear. I thought about quitting. I thought, "How can I continue to do this? I'm no good at this."
Four months later things have improved, but I still think about this person frequently. I still check my pager over and over, and still hate to hear anything beep. I can work better with my patients, and feel more competent, but there is doubt there that never existed in the 15 years I had been doing this before. I do what I do because I love people. Losing this patient shook me like I had never been shaken before. I failed. I could have saved them and I failed.
I guess I came here in an effort to interact with some people and maybe understand. This may sound crazy, but i care about you all. Thanks for listening.