It’s raining.
I am in a foul mood- my kids are not well, their ears are sore and they are grumpy; the weather is miserable and it’s five degrees colder in TinyTrainTown than anywhere else.
I tap my foot impatiently as I wait at the doctors, haughty and irritated. I’m here for a referral. A general practitioner that doesn’t know me- I’ve only needed to come here three times since I’ve been living in the area- is required to write me a referral for the trauma psychologist I’ve been seeing, in order for Medicare to foot the bill.
The irony of it pisses me off. But I can’t afford the fees myself, and God only knows I need to see Charlie.
The doctor who attends to me is new- brand new, fresh out of internship or study or whatever normal people do to become raised to the level of doctors. He has an extremely thick accent, and I’m normally good at understanding speech that is impaired in one way or another; but I don’t have the patience today. I catch only that he’s new and will consult with a more senior doctor over the phone if needed.
The appointment is labored and boring and seems to drag on forever as I’m asked about allergies, sleep, moods and appetite. The doctor fumbles and flushes when I ask him to repeat his question about my menstrual cycle, and I pretend not to hear him the second time too. It’s intrinsically nasty but sometimes I just cannot help myself- I am so used to making people uncomfortable just by being me that when I sense weakness I poke them harder in that spot. It feels like firmly pinning a squirming moth to a board.
The doctor balks at referring me to my shrink because the relatively new practice Charlie works for isn’t in the computer system of this medical centre, nor in the direct area. He suggests others and I am forced to argue my point frustrated and bored with myself already.
‘Anxiety’, he notes on my file, assuming correctly that this is the basis of my condition, given the heavy dose of the medication I take. “I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder”, I say, wondering why that’s not on my file, haven’t I told them this already, on a previous visit? Maybe not, maybe I’m thinking of elsewhere. I have a script in my head for medical situations… “The children’s father suffered a psychosis and took his own life early last year.” It’s crisp and brittle and costs me very little, emotionally, and I’ve practiced it so it can be that easy, that fluent, and I can say it without seeing things in my head.
“Why? What triggered this PTSD?”, asks the doctor, eyes on the computer screen.
And because I’m a foul mood, and this sterile clean little room and this polite, difficult to understand doctor are pissing me off; I wait just a beat too long to reply, long enough so he’ll look me in the eye. And I say, without breaking his gaze “My husband hung himself in front of me last year. He died. I screamed for help…”
And I think to myself… “Boo!!!!!!!”
I watch with a grim, ugly satisfaction as the doctor’s eye widen in shock, and it’s his turn to wait a beat too long before responding. I know that pause… it’s a pregnant one, filled with dismal expectation. He’s waiting for me to say something, anything, to make that statement not quite as ugly as it is. To make this situation more comfortable for him.
I say nothing.
He can’t print me off a referral quickly enough.
***
I’ve always had a dark sense of humour.
It was intensified working at the children’s hospital- most people who have worked with or come into close contact with death on a regular basis develop a wickedly morbid appreciation of what’s funny. (A mandatory monthly group counseling session, years ago, attended by all the entertainers I worked alongside at the hospital, and we’re discussing this very thing. Another seasoned entertainer relays a joke told her by the parents of a gorgeous three year old boy named Luke, his blonde curls and tiny eyelashes stripped cruelly by chemotherapy, “We call him Lukie,” says his mother in mirth, “its short for leukemia!” It’s not funny, not funny at all, but it was the only thing Luke’s mother could find to laugh at and we laughed too, until our bellies were aching and we couldn’t make eye contact for breaking into more peals of it; as two new staff members stared on at us in abject horror.)
While Tony was in the ICU, and in the nightmare that was the first few months after he died, that warped sense of humour became invaluable.
Laughter, no matter the source, is light. Let yourself get too heavy, and you’ll sink.
The only benefit I could find to feeling like a walking zoo exhibit was the ridiculous nature of it all. I viewed people’s reactions to me through a veil of wonderment, watching the real world go on while mine caved in. (“Am I real? Do I exist? Did I die, too?”) Some people seemed to stare at me, waiting for me to explode, or scream, or cry… (“I’m not going to do what you all think I’m gonna do, and just… flip out, or something.”) and through my veil of surreality, there was a part of me that wanted to make them jump, to engage them in uncomfortable conversation… to draw them into the whirlpool of this reality of mine, rather than have them stare at the puppet show that was my life from the comfortable boundaries of their normality.
The fact that they could look at me look like, that they were people who Didn’t Understand, it just made me jealous.
And it tickled some dark, wicked funny bone I have. It felt like a precipice… scream “Boo!!!!!” and watch the normal people flee, while I laughed.
Hysterically. So hysterically it echoed all the way to the asylum.
Liz, my other shrink, she understands, as much as someone can who hasn’t been there can. She stands with me in the hospital, the last day in the ICU, and together we watch.
In rolls a tiny Asian man with a massive x-ray machine, to take a photo of my husband’s dead lungs. In strolls a group of organ donation coordinator, all ribbons and pink and roses and whispers of “Sign this, please…”. In waddle two coppers, one short, one tall, and the short one is in tears when they leave.
In and out, in and out, a string of people. Some of them weeping, saying goodbye to man who was their world… some of them just work here, and this is just another day that will blur into the rest.
I can’t stand it. My husband has been dead for hours, days in reality… this feels ridiculous and it’s pushing that funny bone the wrong way. Liz can see it through my eyes, and she verbalizes it for me where I cannot… this is farcical. This is comedy. This is a Shakespearean play where the ship’s run aground but everything will be OK in the end.
I’m still waiting for the
punchline. I’m still watching the play.
It’s just not fucking funny anymore.
Love ya!
{ 23 comments… read them below or add one }
I've blogged about the Cobles before, as their story shook me up. While I ma raised Catholic there are many things in this world I struggle to understand…
http://www.nappydaze.com/2011/02/pic-courtesy-of-www.html
Hi Lori – I read your blog daily, have been doing so since before your hubby died and have left you a couple hugs. Had to comment today because I am in Southern California and the Cobles live near me so it was a local tragedy for us – almost unbearable to hear about as a mom. They are amazing humans, deciding to move forward through the immense pain. Just like you – and me, too, as I lost my 18 year old son in 2008 to "the combined effects" of prescription narcotics used recreationally. I walk with you – and send you much love from afar. Stay strong! xoxo
Kathy
Taken from Catholic.com
true?
Full Question
I have been told that the Catholic Church teaches that anyone who commits suicide goes to hell. Is this true?
Answer
No. What the Church teaches is that anyone who commits a mortal sin and does not repent before death goes to hell. Mortal sin requires three conditions: grave matter, full knowledge of the gravity of the action, and full and free consent to the action. If any of those three conditions are missing, there is not mortal sin. All we can say for certain is that suicide constitutes grave matter. Given the fact that people who take their own lives often are very ill or under psychological stress, those factors can impede their knowledge and consent, making their actions tragic but not mortally sinful. Only someone who freely chooses to commit suicide with full knowledge of the gravity of the sinfulness would commit mortal sin by his suicide. Even then, between unconsciousness and final death, God might offer the person one final chance to repent, even if such an opportunity is not apparent to us.
The Church says this about the eternal destiny of those who have taken their own lives: "We should not despair of the eternal salvation of persons who have taken their own lives. By ways known to him alone, God can provide the opportunity for salutary repentance. The Church prays for persons who have taken their own lives" (CCC 2283).
Taken from Catholic.com
true?
Full Question
I have been told that the Catholic Church teaches that anyone who commits suicide goes to hell. Is this true?
Answer
No. What the Church teaches is that anyone who commits a mortal sin and does not repent before death goes to hell. Mortal sin requires three conditions: grave matter, full knowledge of the gravity of the action, and full and free consent to the action. If any of those three conditions are missing, there is not mortal sin. All we can say for certain is that suicide constitutes grave matter. Given the fact that people who take their own lives often are very ill or under psychological stress, those factors can impede their knowledge and consent, making their actions tragic but not mortally sinful. Only someone who freely chooses to commit suicide with full knowledge of the gravity of the sinfulness would commit mortal sin by his suicide. Even then, between unconsciousness and final death, God might offer the person one final chance to repent, even if such an opportunity is not apparent to us.
The Church says this about the eternal destiny of those who have taken their own lives: "We should not despair of the eternal salvation of persons who have taken their own lives. By ways known to him alone, God can provide the opportunity for salutary repentance. The Church prays for persons who have taken their own lives" (CCC 2283).
I went to a funeral a couple years ago for a police officer who had killed himself and the family pets. He had graduated with my ex in the academy. Only officers or family of officers will understand that is a closer bond than regular co-workers.
One thing stuck with me as I listened to the police chaplain's words….and watched his widow try to cope with what she was living through….'Nobody knows what went through the heart and mind of Darren before he died. What transpired between him and God. What redemption or forgiveness was granted. We don't know if it was his intention, or a cry for help. It isn't for us to know.'
I don't believe in that particular part of the Catholic faith. I don't believe in a cruel God. What would any father do if his child was hurting, in pain, or made a mistake? He would not shut them (if he was a good father I guess) away for all of eternity to suffer. He'd comfort.
Also? I'm totally not religious other than my own personal beliefs. So I am WAY able to see this through non-rose coloured glasses.
Over the last few years in 'grief' work there has been a movement towards the idea of making meaning from loss – I don't mean that you need to find a meaning in how or why something has happened, but a sense of making meaning from how the loss affects you as a person – how it changes you, how it connects, reconnects or disconnects you to the people you are left behind with…religiosity or even spirituality tends to sway to extremes when a sudden loss happens – either you embrace it or detract from it – catholic guilt associated with loss doesn't do anyone any good…I say whatever gets you through (IVF or not) is the thing to focus on…
I cried when I watched The Coble's on Oprah and I bawled again watching that video.
Gah! There's no fucking sense to the universe-God-whatever it is!!
Peace.
I'm pretty sure that doctrine went out with Vatican II but I'm encouraged to go home and look up my actual Catechism to check.
I do remember attending a classmate's brothers funeral at our church after he killed himself. We gave him a guard of honour, so I'm pretty sure that I've got this right.
My humble belief is that it having suicide classified as a mortal sin was an attempt to stop people killing themselves. I know it worked on one of my friends, who isn't even a Catholic. When her little girl ran out the front door and in front of a car and died, she tried to take her own life a few days later. Only the thought that they might not be together in heaven got her to call a friend who called an ambulance and they saved her life.
I believe we humans as a society are getting better at figuring out ways to deal with the shit life gives us. Well, I hope, we are anyway.
Hmmm I tend to think the higher power is a nasty bastard. Life is difficult. It is hard. Bad things happen to good people. I have learned this the hard way.
But then I am a committed pessimist.
xx
Which begs the question… what is religion anyway? And how are we to really know? x
Lori, I run the risk of offending anyone else who may read this but you absolutely HAVE to know — there is nothing in the Bible that says people who suicide will go to Hell.
Nothing.
I've read the whole thing at least twice (even the begatting) so I know what I'm talking about.
The reason there's been so much argument over this for so many years is because the Bible doesn't say, one way or the other.
No-one knows what was in Tonys' real true heart when he died, but he sounds like he was a pretty good guy.
Everything I've ever read says that God looks at the heart of a man, and if you're going to believe in any part of Christianity, you should believe that bit.
Please don't let the crap get to you. XXX
Kelloggsville, I think you nailed it. Life is arbitrary and unfair. We aren't rewarded this side of the grave because of our faith or our good works.
Lori, there is nothing in the Bible about suicide as far as I am aware. And if someone starts applying levels of sin.. well they have missed the point entirely. We all sin. We all need God's mercy. God IS a God of mercy and for someone to be desperate or ill enough to commit suicide, I do not believe there is punishment.
Keep asking the hard questions. You make people think and deconstruct the cliches.
Very poignant and authentic post Lori – as always. Life can be completely random and unfair.
The rest of my comment was so long it was basically a blog post, so I'm putting it up over there. I hope so much that you don't mind. It's about suicide, Catholicism, and hope.
Hmmm…I'm a Christian. I dont believe someone who commits suicide will automatically go to hell, nor the unbaptised children nor the muslims nor the….the lists are endless *sigh* I think our lifes will be judged on balance. God knows us inside out we can't pretend, we can't hide. we can be sorry. that sorry can be immediate. You don't need last rites for god to know who you are inside. I think those sorts of things have their place and help others to feel better or maybe help a dying person to feel ready. But nothing made up by a church order to control the masses is going to change ultimately the final relationship with god. I also sort of think god doesn't have as much control over everyday happenings as we sometimes would like to wish he had. I could go on forever…I don't think I'm a very good Catholic LOL I think miracles do happen sometimes but mostly they don't. It seems a very imbalanced world in many ways. Sending love as always XX
I think losing anyone before their time is tragic.
For me, anyone who feels they have the 'god given' right to judge or condemn is the one committing the real sin.
Catholics aren't the only Christian religion to believe this. It's a sin to take your own life. I think most christians believe that you have to ask for forgiveness of your sins. If you don't have the opportunity to do this then it could be assumed that you would go to hell. I believe that there is an exception for the mentally unstable. Go to Catholicanswers.com to seek answers to your questions regarding the Catholic faith.
Jesus was payment for our sins. As Christians, we have the assurance of eternal life. Sin is sin in God's eyes. Anything which intentionally harms the body is sin, right? You can die literally by your own hands through other vices such as smoking and drinking. What about working in an environment where you know it could put your health or life at risk? God is loving and just. When He sees Jesus' blood on His children, then they enter into heaven no matter how they exited this life.
This couple you mentioned who lost their three children…that's terribly sad, but how wonderful they had triplets. They became parents again perhaps not by conventional, old fashion methods. This is nothing short of a miracle still, in my opinion with the use of modern high tech intervention which God spawned inside of man's brains.
What an interesting post you wrote today!
Stop by today to read these posts…
Wayback Wednesdays…1992
Chit Chat on Patrice’s Farmhouse Porch
Warm wishes!
Cathy Kennedy,
Children's Author, “The Tale of Ole Green Eyes”
From my perspective, life is all about growth. Growing compassion, growing our hearts and minds and souls. Everything we encounter offers us an opportunity for that. I don't believe any force outside of my soul guides my life, but I do believe in god and life beyond life. It works for me. I am at peace with life's circumstances.
I hope you find you peace, too, and I think you're doing that every day as you write and feel and ponder everything that's gone on. xo
Lori – I believe that God is loving. And he understands how complicated things can be. He would never deny access to heaven to someone who was a good person and who lived a good life. I believe you can rest assured that your husband is safe and fully content.
But I guess the more interesting (rhetorical) question is this… what do you believe?
What is just a rat to us, might be a family member to a family of rats… Just saying. =)
Lori hi,
Somehow find some much comfort and peace in the fact that that Tony had the Last Rites. I think it was for a reason that he stayed alive for 3 days, even being able to hear you.
I believe in God. Sometimes, (esp. right now, in my own personal life) things don't go the way I want, but I do believe and trust that when all things seem uncontrollable, He is still in control.
I pray for you and your little ones. Stay strong, stay strong. Spring is almost here!
Love to you all.
Catholics do believe suicide is a mortal sin – an intentional killing of a human as your final act. Suicide is murder when you know you're doing it, know you're wrong to do it and do it anyway.
You do have to know what you're doing is wrong – a person who was not able to control their actions or to understand that what they were doing was wrong would not qualify as a volitional act.
Personally, I don't think most suicides are done by people who possess the rationality necessary to make it a volitional act but that's just me.
The last rights, which absolve the person of all their sins, would include absolution of that sin. So a person who commits suicide but receives the last rights dies without sin.
I saw the Coble family some time ago on Oprah…
Honestly? IMO, if their triplets had been naturally conceived I *might* have considered it miraculous…
However given that it was IVF and they found out the genders before re-implanting the embryos, and specifially selected three – I'd call that engineering your replacement family.
I have no issue with them doing that if technology and finances allow, but it sure aint an act of G-d…
IMO.