A Return to Life after a Tragic Death
A Family’s walk through a loved one’s Suicide
By
Shirley Kalpin-Olson
A Return to Life after a Death
Copyright c 2011 by author Shirley Kalpin-Olson
for Smashwords edition
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All Bible verses are from New International Version (NIV) Bible, unless specified. All names are fictitious. Incidents in story are given by permission from loved ones and family members who so bravely traveled along with our family on this long tragic and fearful ride.
Chapter - 2—Leading to Disaster
Chapter 7---How Did We Get Here?
Chapter 8---Where Do I Go from Here?
Chapter 9---Beginning Life Over with Trial and Error
Chapter 10--Don’t You Worry don’t you weep
Chapter 11--God Leads us Back on Track
Chapter 12--Zest for Life Again
Appendix D-What can we do if we suspect suicide?
Appendix F How to bring the back fire in our lives.
Appendix H Summary References and Further reading
If you have lost a loved one by a tragic death and suddenly forced to walk through the shadow of that death while searching for answers, this story is for you.
You are not alone. I know what it’s like; I have walked this walk. This is the factual account of our family’s walk in the shadow, of our loved one’s suicide, and I would like to show how we were able to come back to have a zest for living again, only with the help of God.
Suicide as defined in Webster, America college Dictionary, “Suicide 1-“One who intentionally takes his own life”, and Suicide 2 “destruction of one’s own interest and prospects.” This interpretation may brand those who succumb to suicide as losers—selfish people who do not care. This leads those left behind, the family, friends, relatives, caretakers, and loved ones, to feel responsible for their loved one’s act of suicide.
Many are left with questions: Why did we let this happen? Could something more have been done to prevent it? Could we have taken better care and loved this person more? Could we have asked the doctor for treatment sooner? Did we cause them to die? We can go on and on with questions. What are we, gods? Do we think that we can change things? Did we cause their death? No. there is no way we can cause others to commit suicide (unless we strap a bomb to them). Only the true, living God can give life and take it away. It is up to his discretion.
Some people believe in the act of assisted suicide, but my belief is that suicide is not the right answer when we have a difficult time in our life. However, many who succumb to suicide strongly feel that they are lessening the burden for their family.
We believe that our loved one, because of his torment and confusion, possibly due to cancerous brain cells, felt this was the best for his family. Because he was a child of God, we also believe that he asked for forgiveness that last second, and God knew him, loved his heart, and forgave him. After his death, God revealed signs that showed us that our loved one was indeed with Him in heaven. Those signs will be included in this story. Also in this story, are suicide statistics, warning signs, risks, and prevention measures—along with help on how to deal with the phases of grief using God’s tools and other survivor’s experiences and anecdotes.
Suicide is a controversial subject, and there are many different opinions about God’s influence in helping to prevent it. In our experience, we have found that we could not have walked this walk alone. I, for one, needed God’s guidance to get through the darkest shadow on my family’s life and to give us the zest for living again. Our prayer for you is that the message in this story will give you hope, help, encouragement, peace, and a zest for life again
***
My heart is in anguish within me. The terrors of death assail me. Psalm 55:4
It was Sunday morning and the sun was still in hiding, which is typical for May in our part of the country. Randy, my husband, and I had our first good night’s rest in over three weeks, which seemed to brighten things.
The last three weeks were crazy. He would roam around even outside at night, only to be found dazed and in his underwear several times. We had been married forty years, and nothing prepared me for this frightening behavior. In fact, he would be mortified if he actually knew what he was doing during these frightening times.
As his body became increasingly fragile and weak, I continually watched to make sure he did not fall and that he was able to find his way home from his night wanderings. I was not crazy about someone bringing my man back home, especially in his underwear. Deep down, I had a gnawing in my stomach that this was only a part of what was to come.
It seemed like only yesterday that we had gotten the horrifying diagnosis of cancers, lymphoma, and leukemia, but it had been three months and three chemotherapy treatments ago.
After receiving the diagnosis and starting his grueling treatment schedule that dreadful March day, I sat in a trance in the doctor’s office as Randy asked, “What would happen if I don’t take any chemotherapy treatments?”
“The cancer will spread throughout your organs at a rapid pace, but with three chemotherapy sessions, you may have a chance of slowing this process. I do not want to give you a time limit because everyone’s body is affected differently by the chemotherapy.”
Tears fell down Randy’s cheeks, and he spoke in monotone. “It sounds like you have just given me a death sentence, but the treatments will give me a little more time. Is this what you are saying?”
Pain stabbed in my gut, with the realization of that statement. My lips quivered when I said, “You can’t give up now; give yourself a chance. I know God has plans for you.”
Still speaking in monotone, with beads of sweat showing on his brow, he said, “I will take the three treatments for my family’s sake, but after that I am done. I have watched three of my brothers and sisters suffer and snatched away by this vicious cancer in the last few years. What chance do you think I have?”
“There is always the possibility of a miracle,” the doctor said.
The second week of March, Randy received three different types of chemotherapy, one medication for nausea, and another to help the chemotherapy work well. It all took place in five hours at the doctor’s office.
Afterward, walking from the office, Randy puffed up and said, “Oh, I think I can handle this; that wasn’t half bad.”
Within a couple weeks, though I heard an “Oh, no,” coming from the bathroom while he was combing his hair. “I’m losing it!”
“What’s wrong, what are you losing?” I asked as I ran into the room.
“My hair, I’m losing my hair!” pulling a handful of hair from his comb. “Tomorrow morning, I am going to trot right down to the barbers and have a crew cut so I won’t notice my hair disappearing.”
I was laughing as I said, “You know, I remember when I first met you, you had a crew cut. That is why I fell in love with you. You looked so distinguished, but I will love you even if you don’t have any hair.”
Randy smiled, and giving a hug, said, “Thanks, I needed that.
***
The next morning, as the sun rose and warmed the crisp March air, we leisurely walked the half-mile to Tom’s Barbershop.
Once there, Randy told the barber, “I want all my hair cut off so I don’t see it fall out.”
“Why are you afraid you hair will fall out?”
“Oh, I have cancer, and they say with cancer and chemotherapy, your hair falls out.”
“I am so sorry to hear that,” the barber said.
Although I was amused at how open Randy was about his cancer, and I hoped and prayed he could keep his positivity, I sensed he was hiding his real feelings.
As we strolled home, I tripped on a raised stone and fell smack on my hands, facedown, unable to get up. Meanwhile, a ten-dollar bill flew out of my pocket and into the street.
Randy immediately dashed into the street with cars coming, and shouted, “I got it,” when he returned. Finally noticing me on the pavement, he helped me up and asked, “What happened to you? Are you okay?”
“Oh, I think I just broke my arm, but I’m okay,” I said, biting my lip. My left arm was blowing up like a balloon.
I was scheduled to work at the hospital that night, but I knew I couldn’t make it. “I will have to call work and tell them that I can’t come in. I think I may have broken my arm.”
“Why didn’t you tell me it was so bad? I’ll take you to urgent care so you get in right away.”
After X-rays, which were excruciating painful I thought I would scream, the doctor said, “You have a hairline fracture in the wrist and a crack in your elbow bone, and the long bone of your lower arm is pushed up into the fascia of the upper arm. You will need a brace to protect your elbow and a cast on your wrist.”
Almost in tears, I said, “But I have to care for Randy.”
“He will have to take care of you for awhile. You’ll be able to do that, won’t you, Randy?”
“For sure, I would love to dress and take care of my wife,” he said with a gleam in his eyes.
Seeing that gleam, I knew this was all happening for a reason. I believe God was telling me to let go so Randy could feel better about himself by helping me.
When we returned home that evening, Randy cooked supper and later called his sister and said, “I am taking care of my wife now. I even get to dress her.”
I said a quiet thank you to God for allowing this to happen, because now Randy felt better about himself and I had time off from work, so we could help each other.
***
Randy’s second treatment in April did not go as well as the first. In the middle of his three-week interim period, he became lethargic and depressed. When he went in to have blood tests, Randy asked the doctor, “Is there anything that would take away these terrible feeling of wanting to die rather than to keep going? I don’t think I’m getting any better; am I going crazy?”
Hesitating, the doctor said, “No, you’re not going crazy, your blood count is extremely low and is making you feel this way. I am going to have the nurse give you a shot to build it up. You can try Zoloft for your depression, but I do not usually recommend an anti-depressant, as it may have adverse reactions on your therapy. If you do take this medication, give yourself a few days to see if it will help. If you still have these feelings, let me know right away.”
His confusion, depression, and craziness increased, even though he was taking the new medication. This was terrifying.
He had a week of craziness, and then before his third treatment, he quietly and tearfully related to me, “I know that cancer will probably take my life anyway; this next treatment will be my last.”
Hiding my own tears and sinking heart, I said weakly, “I understand. After this next treatment, you will have fulfilled your commitment to your family, and I will go along with your decision, but I wish you would not give up. Your family still wants you to try. We believe that God has a plan in all of this.”
***
Question: What feelings did your husband express after his diagnosis of cancer?
Answer: He admitted his feelings of hopelessness and not wanting to go on, on several occasions. But I felt that I had to fix him or that he was going to be healed, so I did not hear and I was in complete denial of his possibly dying. I even started bargaining with God to let us have more time by trying to be a better caretaker and have more faith. I was not allowing others to help me.
**
Fear and trembling have beset me, horror has overwhelmed me. I said, “Oh that I had the wings of a dove. I would fly away and be at rest. Psalm 55:5–6
In the following weeks, it broke my heart to watch Randy’s spirits spiral; he lost hope and questioned his faith in God despite the many prayers for him. I was at a loss for what to do, although I prayed day and night for guidance for both of us. I still believed in a miracle, but I feared God wasn’t hearing my pleas.
As hope and faith diminished, he became more depressed, confused, and paranoid. Nothing was certain, as if we were on a trip with Alice in Wonderland. Our children, family, and friends continued the prayers and encouragement.
One Thursday evening, after his May treatment, which was his third, Randy became unbearably agitated. Holding a pillow over his head, he yelled, “I can’t take this anymore. I feel like I am going insane with these terrible headaches. The bills keep adding up! Even though we have three insurance companies, none are paying. We may even lose our home. This is not fair to you and the family. You would be better off without me causing all these problems. Couldn’t you just give me something to help me die?”
“You know that I can’t do that.” I sobbed, holding him close and praying, but nothing I did to console seemed to help. This was frightening! Finally I convinced him to take a relaxing pill, and after some time, because his agitation was so exhausting, he fell asleep. I decided to sleep in the next room so as not to disturb him, and I was so exhausted I fell sound asleep until early the next morning.
On awakening, I felt a tinge of guilt. I thought, “Oh no, I hope Randy is okay.” Walking by the bathroom, I could see a bloody towel on the floor. Heart pounding, I went into our bedroom and noticed the bed made, which alarmed me even more, as this was not like my husband. “Where is he, what has he done?” I asked myself as I raced into the living room.
He was sitting quietly in his regular chair, with this silly grin, as of a little child after being mischievous. I asked him in a jovial way, trying to ease my fear, “Where is my husband this morning; what did you do with him? He never makes the bed. By the way, why is there a bloody towel in the bathroom?”
“Oh, that is nothing. I cut myself.”
A horrible fear hit me—this was not good! But his good humor and change of attitude made me feel better.
In fact, he seemed to be in good humor the whole day. I started to believe that maybe the pills he was taking had helped him and that his talking and acting out about killing himself was over.
We had a nice day reminiscing about our sons and our life together. Brett, our oldest son, stopped over and enjoyed a nice visit with his dad. He prayed with both of us before he left. Randy seemed to enjoy his children’s company whenever they came over, which was more frequent now.
That night Randy got up a few times. I was sleeping in another room because my broken arm was causing me to be restless, but I still lay awake worrying about him wandering.
Friday morning the sun was bright and beautiful. I felt like going for a walk and asked Randy, “Being that it is so nice and you seem to be feeling better, would you like to go for a walk around the block this morning?”
“You go ahead and maybe have a cup of coffee with one of the neighbors. You don’t have a chance to get out much lately. I am going to sit on the deck and relax.”
“Okay, I may stop across the street after a brief walk. I will be there if you need me; otherwise I will be back shortly.”
When I returned a half hour later, Randy was sitting comfortably on the deck. I poured us coffee and joined him. He was like his normal self, and even his sense of his humor was back. It was wonderful to visit as we used to.
Just then, the doorbell rang. Answering, I was surprised to see Randy’s sister, Joan, at the door. She had to travel by bus, transfer two times, and walk about five blocks to get to our house. When she came over, we would usually pick her up; because of arthritis she had difficulty getting around. It was puzzling that she would show up unexpectedly.
“Where is he; is he okay?” she asked with fear in her voice as she rushed in.
“What do you mean is he okay? He seems to be fine this morning. In fact, he is sitting on the deck. Why do you ask?
“He called and said that he was having a bad day and was dying. He asked me to come over right away to help him.”
Joan rushed out to the deck to check on her brother. Something did not make sense. After pouring another cup of coffee to bring for Joan, I joined them and asked Randy, “What is going on, I thought you were having a good day? Your sister said that you called her and told her you weren’t doing too well.”
“I don’t know why I called her. I guess I was just lonesome for my family. I didn’t mean to scare you, Joan.”
Even though I felt something weird going on, I wanted Joan to feel welcome as I said to her, “I’m glad you came. Randy needs to talk to someone besides me, for a change. You and Randy visit while I fix something to eat. You will join us for dinner, I hope?”
“That will be great. I left home in such a hurry, and I didn’t take time to eat anything.”
After dinner, we sat on the deck visiting as we watched the radiant red sun slowly go down, and the chill in the air started nipping our noses.
“Let’s take our coffee inside so we don’t get the chills,” I suggested. After settling into the living room, Randy and his sister talked for a long time, reminiscing about their home life, which was somewhat negative, the way their dad drank and beat their mother. Randy didn’t want to talk about or remember the bad things, only the many good times he had in sports and frolicking at school. It was great to see Randy and his sister talking and laughing.
That night, after returning from taking his sister home, Randy sheepishly held out his arm, where I noticed a one–inch, jagged cut across the artery in the cubical area.
With my head swirling and my heart pounding, I asked, “Did you just try to kill yourself?” This freaked me out; this was not good, because he had mentioned wanting to die just yesterday. Shocking as this was, I was relieved that the cut was not deep enough to sever the artery. Holding back the tears, I continued, “When did you do this?”
With his head drooping, he said quietly, “I did this last night while you were sleeping. I was so agitated and anxious, it just happened. I tried to be quiet so I wouldn’t wake you.”
“I wish you would have wakened me. So that was the bloody towel? Are you still thinking of hurting yourself? You know that we have to call the doctor about this.” I was shaking as my heart continued to pound.
“No, please don’t call him. I promise I won’t do that again. I stopped taking my Zoloft this morning, I think that is what is making me crazy, and that is why I feel better today. When I go tomorrow to have my blood work done, I will tell the doctor what I did and that I don’t want to take the new medication because of how it makes me feel.”
“If you promise to not do this again, I won’t call tonight, but please don’t try to hurt yourself again.”
“I won’t try that again; that was really dumb.”
That night he slept soundly. But I was so afraid of what he would do that I could not sleep a wink. I sat up all night reading everything I could find on the Internet about suicide risks. They all fit: Randy’s extreme attitude change, his talk of dying, and his choice to cut his artery. I could see what this was leading up to. I just knew that he was going to die, one way or another. Suddenly I burst out crying and prayed, “God, please help me! I don’t know what to do.”
Slumped over the computer Saturday morning, I was suddenly awakened by Randy shaking me saying, “Are you okay? Have you been up all night? Why don’t you lie down for a while? Later, when we get back from the doctors, I will help you with whatever you need to do.”
He was being so helpful. I felt that I could trust him. After all, he did take care of me when I broke my arm, which was healing very well. I gave in and fell asleep until Randy woke me to take him to his doctor’s appointment.
After dropping Randy off at the doctor’s office, I went grocery shopping. After I picked him up, we went for breakfast. On returning home, Randy said, “Okay, what do you want me to do to help you today? I know you want to get some housework done. Just give me some chores.”
My usual chores had taken second place to caring for Randy, and I knew that I needed to do something in the house before we needed a bobcat to clear a path. I was glad to have Randy’s help to clear paths.
“By the way, did you tell the doctor what you did the other night?”
“Yes, I showed him the area. That’s when he noticed the lump,” he said as he showed me the lump he had on his arm. I was startled and my stomach sickened as I asked, “How long have you had this?”
“I never noticed it before and really didn’t think too much about it, but when I told him about the constant headaches and how confused and restless I had become, he told me to stop the antidepressants. When I said, ‘I already have; I don’t want to do the dumb things I was doing again,’ he got a funny look on his face and told me that there might be more going on. I’m thinking that the cancer may be spreading.”
“I think it is going to my brain, because of the headaches and the terrible feelings I have been having. I’m starting to think that I don’t have much time left,” he said with fear in his eyes.
Sobbing and hugging him, I said, “Randy, I don’t know what is going on in your mind, but I do know that God wants you to have the peace that you have wanted for so long. Let us pray and give all this anxiety to Him.”
We prayed the Lord’s Prayer together and continued with, “and please continue to be with us as we go through this struggle.”
“Just remember that God loves you and He knows that you have accepted Him into your heart, and He will take care of you. I will always love you and constantly pray for peace and love to be in your heart.” I was frightened for him, but knowing that God had Randy in His hands gave us some peace.
Randy sat silent for a long time, and then he suddenly said, “Where is my heart? Is this where the heart is?” he asked as he pointed to his chest, with a look of fear on his face.
Not realizing where he was going with these questions, I said, “You remember where you place your hand when you say the Pledge of Allegiance, silly. Why do you ask where your heart is? Your heart is really where you feel and love.”
Suddenly he changed the conversation and said, “Why don’t you e-mail your brother to see how he is doing. I have been worried about him.”
Thinking what a sudden change it was, but knowing that he had been having relapses before, I said, “Yes, I think I will e-mail my brother and check on his family.” Concerned about my brother’s recent diagnosis of skin cancer, I wrote a quick e-mail. While on the Internet, I heard Randy go upstairs. I wondered why he would go up there at this time. Finishing the e-mail, I met Randy coming up from downstairs. He must have gone upstairs and downstairs without my seeing him. This concerned me as I asked, “What are you looking for going up- and downstairs?”
“I’m just checking things out. I want to be ready. Maybe we can sleep upstairs tonight; it is so cozy up there.”