The morning of Feb 12, 2002 I attended the funeral of a wonderful lady who lost her battle with cancer. The strange thing was, all I could think of was that I wanted to be her, resting and at peace finally. It didn't seem like I could bear it any longer.
A couple of months earlier in December my life had been so exciting and fulfilling. I remember thinking how great life was, that it probably couldn't get any better. I was catering for seniors in four different homes in Meadow Lake, along with trying to balance providing them exercise and activities. I was literally on the run with that job, with the kid's activities, and church events. It wasn't an underestimation to say I was attempting to do more than twice what I should have been. I planned bus tours for the seniors, had talent shows (practising skits and songs with them), took some of them shopping, and the list goes on describing my crazy busy life. I loved it. I also accompanied choirs, soloists, and tried to keep entertaining. At Christmas, we had company, but I also worked many 12 1/2 hour shifts at the nursing home. Then it came time for the New Year's Eve bash for young people at our church. It seemed like there wasn't a lot of people coming out to help out with decorating and preparations so after my long shifts, I went to help. I'm sure I was in a manic phase, but I was just expecting too much from myself. If anyone ever asked me to help, or borrow, or do whatever, I'm not sure I ever said no. I had almost 16 years of no depression, and I certainly wasn't expecting it to come back.
My husband was having his challenges, that's for sure. He was told he had to lay off a certain percentage of the workers, or the mill would close down. This was heart wrenching for both of us, as several that were chosen to be laid off were our very close friends. Neither one of us could hardly sleep over that. Ed, besides being Mill Manager also was taking a Business Administration Course which demanded a lot of his time and energy. He served on the Elder's Board, which had it's challenges as well. We played on a worship team, I helped in various ways at the church.
I first noticed something wasn't right when I was planning the January monthly calendar for meals and activities for the seniors. This was something that I just loved doing, coming up with fresh ideas that would bring joy to their lives. I usually planned things that were very labour intensive. But this time, I just stared at the sheet saying to myself, "I don't want to do this. I can't do this". This was strange, and definitely not me. My sleep was very erratic, constantly waking up during troubled sleeps. Right away, I went to see a doctor, knowing this was the beginning of depression. I wanted to nip it in the bud. My sister asked me to come and stay with her for a few days, thinking it would do me good to get away. I asked for some time off, as going to work felt almost impossible. I literally couldn't think of what to do next. I loved preparing meals for many people, but now felt incapable of it. It was the strangest thing. So I was hopeful that with the medication and some rest at my sisters, I'd be fine. While at my sisters, a sudden call came that Ed's father had passed away, and I knew I had to go right away. Ed had so much on his plate already, and now this would be difficult for him and his sisters, but especially for his Mom. So, off I drove.
Following the funeral, I came back to Meadow Lake and revisited the same doctor. I told him these meds weren't working for me, so he tripled my dose. I'm not blaming him, because he didn't know me. The medication I was on isn't used to treat bipolar disorder as it can cause suicidal thoughts. But I didn't know any of this. That started the roller coaster. It seemed like every day, I endured these horrible panic attacks, when everything in me was racing. The rest of the days and nights all I could think about were ways to take my life. I felt so ashamed of my thoughts, and was constantly asking God to forgive me, but I couldn't stop them. "I could just drive in front of a moving train", or "I'll ride my bike in front of a logging truck" or "I'll jump off the bridge", and on and on went my thoughts. My biggest problem was that I didn't know I was bipolar and wasn't educated about depression, so I thought it was all spiritual not physical. When I really needed help, I withdrew and felt ashamed. I didn't realise you could be on a wrong medication, but felt that my state showed that there was no hope for me. I didn't even tell my husband how bad things were, because I felt he had more than enough to deal with at the time. Several times, I had gone and asked for prayer which was a good thing to do, but as I said it wasn't as much of a spiritual problem as a physical disease that I had. It is a hereditary illness, and now I know there is a lot of depression and bipolar in my family line. Fortunately, our family has become much more educated and aware in the past ten years.
...Back to that day. Following the funeral, I went to a drug store to look for valentine's cards for each of my family. I then picked up a bottle of extra strength Tylenol and drove back to our house. I carefully wrote on each card, expressing what a wonderful daughter or son each was. I honestly felt their lives would be better without me. My husband was so special, but I felt unworthy of him. It's crazy to think that during those weeks, I thought of different Christian women who would make better wive than I could be. My thinking was just so distorted, but I couldn't control anything. This was following a few weeks of sleeplessness, with awful thoughts churning in my mind.
Taking the bottle of Tylenol along, I drove past the mill to an abandoned farm. I wrote a note to my family, asking them to forgive me for doing what I was about to do. Then I began taking the Tylenol. I felt almost like a robot, a lifeless empty shell. Just taking one after another, counting up to 52. Then I sat and waited. After a while with not feeling any effects, I remembered that Breanna had asked me to pick her up after school. So I drove back to town, found that she had already walked home, and just went and made supper as usual. It all seemed so surreal.
Then it hit me. I started to throw up. I went to bed, my family thinking I had the flu and just kept on throwing up. In the evening Ed got ready to go to the Board of Elders meeting at the church. I never said a thing about what I had done. When he came home, I said I didn't want to keep him awake, so I slept in Jenna's room, as she was now at the U of A in nursing. I guess I thought maybe I wouldn't wake up in the morning.
Before he left for work, Ed popped in to check on me and kiss me good bye. He looked into my eyes and said, "What is wrong with you? Somethings wrong with you!" I saw panic in his eyes. Starting to cry, I told him about taking all the Tylenol. His eyes were literally wild with fear. He wrapped my robe around me, and helped me to the car as quickly as possible. I was definitely feeling dizzy and strange. He sped to the hospital, and from there things started happening fast. Immediately, my blood was taken and within a very short time, I was put into an ambulance and taken to the airport, where my journey continued by air ambulence to Saskatoon hospital. I remember thinking, "Is this really happening, or is it a dream?" Little did I know the fight for my life that was about to ensue. Countless people began praying, and many medical personal worked tirelessly. The next couple of days, I was in and out of consciousness, and then drifted into a coma for some weeks. I have asked my daughter Jenna to share some of her recollections during that time.
How can I ever adequately thank those people who prayed? I was so humbled later to find out that during this time, a 24 hour prayer vigil was taking place at my home church, Meadow Lake Alliance. Those people were literally fighting for my life with their prayers. As you will hear, many doctors were involved in my rescue. My family was amazing. My brother Jonathan even came from Spain to see me! I distinctly remember hearing his voice, even while I was in a coma! I can't believe how difficult this is to write about.
My hope and prayer is that if someone out there needs some support, I'd love to be there for you. Over the ten years, I have met and talked with many who have tried to take their lives, or who are thinking about it. I started a support group with others who were struggling. I've picked people up who were afraid to be alone, scared of what they might do to themselves. Depression is as common as getting a cold! There is help. Life will get better, don't give up. Find a trusted friend to be your confident, and be honest with your feelings and thoughts, you definitely aren't alone.
I remember this day. The sad news spread very quickly along with the request to pray for Wendy.
ReplyDeleteTen years of LIFE have passed. Praise the Lord.