On the death of a colleague.
by Leah Hosie RMN
Working with individuals who experience suicidal ideation or intent is an integral aspect of mental health, and it is probable that all registered nurses working in this field will come across a person in this situation at some point, irrespective of the specific area in which they develop their career.
As an RMN working in a crisis resolution team, this was a common concern. Whether borne out of situational crisis, a deterioration in a mental health condition, or any other number of contributing factors, a thread to the narrative of these service users was a sense of feeling hopeless and overwhelmed. Initially, when doing my risk assessments and asking people what had got them to this point, this decision, I would tread carefully with my language, use euphemisms and metaphors and be so tentative as to be ineffectual.
But my nursing skills developed, and my confidence grew. Towards the end of my clinical career, I was able to say to a service user ‘Death comes to us all, why rush that process?’ and feel competent that I could manage the response, whatever it might be. I became skilled at navigating emotions and attuned to subtle shifts in body language, I know when to speak and when to remain silent. I took professional pride in my ability to assess risk and provide something of use to that person based on their need at that precise moment.
A colleague suicide.
And then I had a colleague and friend end her life. Suddenly, abruptly, without warning. She was a fellow mental health nurse, and we had worked together on the crisis team before parting ways when this service was disbanded. We stayed connected though, largely through messaging and social media. A few weeks before her death, we had spent an evening talking about her desire to explore other avenues of nursing, and perhaps consider health visiting.
For all my skill, for all my competence, for all my confidence – I never saw this coming. I had never envisioned it, never thought or felt for a second that she was at any risk. I was devastated. All my crisis team colleagues were… What could we have said? What could we have done? How did we not know?! What did we miss?
Practice what we preach.
I do not understand why she didn’t reach out for help, but I wonder if it was because as mental health nurses, there is the expectation that we have our sh*t together so that we are able to help others. So, what then happens to those of us that are also struggling, overwhelmed or hopeless? How easy is it for us to practice what we preach? To reach out for support from the mental health professionals in our lives? Even if we work alongside them, rather than in a patient-provider capacity.
Reach out.
I would like to be able to write this blog post as a nurse who has gone through this experience and be able to say here is what I would do differently… but I cannot. I do not know. I do not know what went wrong, and I don’t know how (or if) I could have helped. Heaven knows I have contemplated this for hours, but I am none the wiser.
So instead, I write this blog as a person who grieves and who may never get the answers. But as for you, dear reader, if you see something of yourself in my friend and colleague’s story, please, please, please, do not suffer alone. Do not suffer in silence. There are barriers thrown up in life and there can be days, weeks, months or longer when it is all just too much. But with love and support might come the option to break those barriers down, to master that which overwhelms us. Professionally, I have witnessed remarkable transformations when people in need engage with that support. And personally, I have been devastated by the effects when people do not.
Please ask for help if you are in need. Please.
If you are experiencing distress or suicidal thoughts, please take a look at our support page.