How I Intervened And Saved My Best Friend’s Life When He Tried To Commit Suicide
When I was 13 years old, one night at around 11 pm I heard a noise that came from my Aunt’s room. My Aunt has lived a life of her own, filled with hardships and struggles. After separating from her husband, she became severely depressed. Though we lived with her and kept her company. Somethings never truly disappear. She was still grieving from the death of my grandfather — her father. Who suddenly passed away one evening after asking me, that he needs to rest and he went to sleep after. I closed the room and came outside to tell my mum that Nana told me he needs to rest.
After 5 minutes, my mum came to check upon him. He had passed away, leaving us. During that day, my uncle was still recovering from his accident. He had been shot in the leg, and we had to change shifts to tend to his aid. My grandfather was ill as well. But still, I believe, he was healthy. But at old age, nothing is for certain. Many things were happening during that time. Many of us still blame ourselves for his declining health. Life back then was filled with immense sorrow. But we still felt complete even with the hardship, sorrow and anguish.
I remember all the days, where I spent in the stead of my elders. There are perhaps many regrets I kept as a child. There were many people I couldn’t save. Perhaps because I was but a child, blaming myself for the demise of my loved ones. It was foolish of me to do that, I know that now.
Just like myself, my aunt tried every day to make ends meet. She worked hard, she would study hard and take off our late grandmother as well. It’s just that the feelings of loss — all those years perhaps took a toll on her. And in a moment of weakness, of feeling helpless — she overdosed on her anti-depressants.
When she came outside, perhaps during that moment she realized that she did something wrong. I have seen a few people commit suicide in my childhood. Some people I was unable to help. I didn’t know what to do. The only thing I could do was a scream, to my parents for help. We picked her up. My parents took her to the hospital where she was treated, just in the nick of time.
If they were any late, I believe I would have lost my beloved Aunt. That night is singed into my heart and soul. The fear of watching someone you lose, puking foam. It is a night of terror and pain. Something that kept me up many nights. Afterwards, I never left the side of my Aunt until she got better. I developed a habit of sleeping late so I could keep an eye on the people I lived with. I would always sleep last until I was sure everyone I knew was comfortable and well. This became my reason for experiencing insomnia decades later. I don’t regret, even a single bit for not sleeping those nights.
Almost a decade and a half later, I experienced the same event once again. But this time, it was my dorm. I was in my third year of engineering. I was awake like my habit of keeping watch. I was on my laptop, preparing a few assignments. I heard a ruckus from the other room. A friend of mine went to the bathroom near the pantry. He was awfully noisy like he was suffering from something. In a brink but a small moment, he screamed. I was the first one to arrive.
My friend was vomiting everywhere. He was bleeding from his nose, as well as mouth. He had just drunk latrine acid, they used to clean the toilet. He was lying on the ground, and none of the other roommates was touching him. They were all cowering in fear, of what had happened. They feared they would be blamed, and like bystanders — they stood and watch as he experienced the anguish.
I without sparing a second to waste picked him up and asked my roommate to drive the car. I stayed back, with him in the car. My roomie drove as fast as he could and we were able to reach the local hospital on time. I picked him and rushed him towards the emergency ward. Where the nurses and doctored administered IV’s to stabilize his condition. They then switched him in an ambulance, to another hospital that had the equipment to further assist his condition.
I remember his few words, he uttered in my ear whilst he was crying when we were sitting in the ambulance. I remember the heavy breathing, as he forcefully grabbed my shoulder looked at me with sadness in his eyes.
“Please tell my family, I am sorry.”
I knew he realized he had done something, he wasn’t proud of. We stayed until we reached the hospital and then university authorities arrived and they took over. I was shaking outside, still keeping my composure. I came back shortly after to tell the others that he is stabilized and will be all right after a few weeks of recovery.
Coming back, to the dorm — we had found out, his fiance had texted him that she was leaving him. In this emotional struggle, when he tried to contact her, she blocked his calls. He tried contacting her but she didn’t respond. This made him anxious and on further inspection, we found that he overdosed as well before submitting himself to such a horrific trial.
In my childhood, that night I couldn’t do anything. But this time I choose to do something about it regardless of it all. We were able to save his life. A life that he lives, quite peacefully with his family. Over the years, I have tried to understand the reasons why one tries to commit suicide. Perhaps it is the feeling of loneliness and despair, that cripples the sense to make such a decision. I believe in those moments when you finally do it, regret tends to catch you in that moment of pain and suffering.
My friend had lost all hope, he thought no one would understand. In a world filled with people, no one is alone. And if someone loses hope because of that, then that premise is certainly horrific to bear. We have to be able to become better than what our pain destined us to be. We don’t have to let our struggle win.
If we let our emotions take control of our senses, such a fate is written. But this fate can be overridden. If there are people who can support one another, none of this would ever happen. And sometimes, we have to allow ourselves to hope. I have known a lot of anguish in my life, and even though there were times I felt I was going today or I should die. I closed my eyes and hoped for a future where I lived.
If hope is not present, right now. We can persevere until the time comes that the hope we have lost is renewed.
My aunt, my friend are all people who had their hope stolen from them. They became hesitant, and because of that, they started to feel alone. These are not my words, but their experiences through my eyes. We have to able to take care of one another, now more than ever. In a world where death is only a doorknock away. We have to able to comfort one another. To check up often on one another. To show that we are here, and if the going gets tough — we will face it all together.
I have lost many people, I have loved over the years. Because I was not there, as I was not able to create hope in their hearts. It is a regret I keep, a regret that keeps me alive to hope for those who have lost sight of life.
Please take care of one another. Our lives are connected more than ever, in this modern world. Where we are only a second away, from checking upon each other. Do just that, and be there for one another. It is the thought that counts. The action that will go a long way, to stop those who have chosen a path where they believe that there is no hope left for them to live.
Give them another chance, to see the error in their ways. Allow them to hope again, to hope for a better life. A life of joy filled with love, and warmth. Live well.
Take care of your loved ones and those who call you a friend. Be there in the moment, and you will find ways to make their life filled with everlasting joy.
No one deserves to die alone.