A Double Burden

Just one month ago, Robin Williams' death shocked the world and brought mental health and depression to the forefront. The nightly news and the internet was filled with conversation about depression and suicide.  I was struck by the range of beliefs concerning suicide, and the ingrained reactions that belied a lack of knowledge about the topic.  Normally, it's a topic avoided even more than politics and religion.  At least for a few short weeks, there were some fairly candid discussions, and I hope, some learning done.

I've seen and dealt with my share of depression.  A January 2013 newspaper article reported that large-scale studies suggest between 10 and 70 percent of suicides are linked to chronic illness or unrelenting pain.  That statistic didn't surprise me at all, and my guess is the true number is closer to 70 percent than 10.

As caregivers, our burden is double.  We have to be aware of and able to talk about our own mental health as well as that of those we care for.  Watching someone you love in mental pain is hard, very hard.  For me, it was worse than dealing with almost any other aspect of my husband's illness.  There were many days when I know he thought about ending his life - because he told me and we talked it through.  He was tired of the never ending pain, the growing weakness, the constant threat of choking, of falling, of another heart attack, of what he could no longer do.  One of his greatest concerns was the weight he was placing on his family -- on me and our two daughters.  Many days that bothered him more than the physical aspects of his illnesses.

My reaction was to hide my feelings as best as possible as often as possible; to tell him we were all in this together, that I was saddened too, but that we would make it through and that the vow "in sickness and in health, 'til death do us part" was sacred.  In the end, he was stronger than his depression, but not stronger than his other diseases.   After his death, I turned my focus to my daughters and their grief.  In hindsight, it was only this summer, nearly two years later, that I announced I was putting my health first and did so.  I have no scientific proof, but also no doubt that the unbelievable fatigue and the amount of sleep I needed this summer was my body's way of dealing with both the chemo side effects and the emotional stress of the past several years.

Four weeks after Robin's death, the discussion about depression and suicide has dropped off.  I can only hope that the conversations that took place are lodged in our collective memories, and that those who need help - and those who love them - will remember and find the strength to reach out for help.

Orlando Sentinel, January 24, 2013, Chronic pain and suicide