When much of your life has been stripped away, you come to appreciate some of the simplest, most basic things—food and water, the Internet, a warm breeze, nice music, the trees, your comfy pajamas, a nice pair of socks, the appearance and company of another person, your pet, and the list goes on. My online friend, homebound and ravaged by severe chronic fatigue for years, appreciated his subscription to YouTube TV the most. It allowed him to watch the sports he loved so much. He would lie around on the couch each day and just stare at the boob tube, unable to do much else.
When I heard that he died by suicide at age 30 a few months ago, I was saddened but not shocked. After all, he had said something to me a couple of months prior: “It wouldn’t be a tragedy if I had to die,” he said—he had attempted suicide once before and failed—“but it would be a great tragedy if I continued to live in the condition I am in.”
See, he very much wanted to die. Having felt that all options for treatment had been explored, there would be nothing left for him to do but to suffer cruelly every day for the rest of his life. He even went so far as to wire $6K to an assisted suicide clinic in Switzerland, with, as heartbreaking as this sounds, his very own mother’s approval. Although, when his sister found out, she immediately called the police and, early the next morning, he found himself surrounded by four cops in his bedroom, while still half-asleep.
They put him in the hospital psych ward for 10 days. He reported to me that it was the worst experience of his life. While in there, he didn’t sleep at all for 9 days straight. Of course, I was aware of his plans to end his life because he told me of them. I said that I would do anything to stop him from carrying out his plans, if I didn’t understand his situation, but, sadly, I did understand it all too well. I feel I did my best to support him emotionally, and I think he did his best to support me emotionally in my struggles with severe chronic illness.
I later learned that his friends and family from all over the country flew in to attend his wake and funeral. Numerous tributes were left on his Facebook page, all heartwarming and heart-wrenching at the same time. A few days after the funeral, I received an email from his mother. I don’t know how she got my email address, but here’s what she wrote:
“Michael wanted to make sure that you knew that he passed away on his terms. The funeral was this past Sunday. He spoke of you often and enjoyed your conversations. Many of his friends are posting tributes to him on his facebook page - if you would like to read them. I hope your health improves and that you continue to have the strength to endure.”
I’m not sure what lessons to take from my online friend’s death. He faced an impossible situation, and I myself feel the same way at times. In fact, just two and a half years ago, I attempted suicide. I’d swallowed a boatload of pills and my wife and son came home to find me lying on the bed, unconscious. Having landed in a coma for three days, I would subsequently spend three painstaking weeks in the psych ward.
Where was I? I just think that, if anything, the message can be life-affirming instead: that despite the impossible struggles, there is always hope. And it helps to love the hell out of your life every now and then, if you can. I know many of you probably appreciate the simplicities of life. I know that I appreciate in my very limited capacity every decent moment I get, all the wonderful simple things, and, of course, the amazing loved ones I have by my side.
When I heard that he died by suicide at age 30 a few months ago, I was saddened but not shocked. After all, he had said something to me a couple of months prior: “It wouldn’t be a tragedy if I had to die,” he said—he had attempted suicide once before and failed—“but it would be a great tragedy if I continued to live in the condition I am in.”
See, he very much wanted to die. Having felt that all options for treatment had been explored, there would be nothing left for him to do but to suffer cruelly every day for the rest of his life. He even went so far as to wire $6K to an assisted suicide clinic in Switzerland, with, as heartbreaking as this sounds, his very own mother’s approval. Although, when his sister found out, she immediately called the police and, early the next morning, he found himself surrounded by four cops in his bedroom, while still half-asleep.
They put him in the hospital psych ward for 10 days. He reported to me that it was the worst experience of his life. While in there, he didn’t sleep at all for 9 days straight. Of course, I was aware of his plans to end his life because he told me of them. I said that I would do anything to stop him from carrying out his plans, if I didn’t understand his situation, but, sadly, I did understand it all too well. I feel I did my best to support him emotionally, and I think he did his best to support me emotionally in my struggles with severe chronic illness.
I later learned that his friends and family from all over the country flew in to attend his wake and funeral. Numerous tributes were left on his Facebook page, all heartwarming and heart-wrenching at the same time. A few days after the funeral, I received an email from his mother. I don’t know how she got my email address, but here’s what she wrote:
“Michael wanted to make sure that you knew that he passed away on his terms. The funeral was this past Sunday. He spoke of you often and enjoyed your conversations. Many of his friends are posting tributes to him on his facebook page - if you would like to read them. I hope your health improves and that you continue to have the strength to endure.”
I’m not sure what lessons to take from my online friend’s death. He faced an impossible situation, and I myself feel the same way at times. In fact, just two and a half years ago, I attempted suicide. I’d swallowed a boatload of pills and my wife and son came home to find me lying on the bed, unconscious. Having landed in a coma for three days, I would subsequently spend three painstaking weeks in the psych ward.
Where was I? I just think that, if anything, the message can be life-affirming instead: that despite the impossible struggles, there is always hope. And it helps to love the hell out of your life every now and then, if you can. I know many of you probably appreciate the simplicities of life. I know that I appreciate in my very limited capacity every decent moment I get, all the wonderful simple things, and, of course, the amazing loved ones I have by my side.