On Friday afternoon, Tracey was very upset. She came into work early (she always does - it gives us both time to talk and I love having her here) but even as she entered the sliding doors to Reception, I could tell she was struggling. The anger and hurt came off her in waves.
Oh my.
"I just feel unloved, Janet" Tracey said, angrily wiping away at her tears as she sat behind her desk and placed her handbag on the floor next to her.
I'm so sorry, Tracey.
"My husband doesn't talk to me, my sons are all teenagers and answer my questions with grunts...what do I do? I'm so alone. I feel so rejected and unwanted"
Tracey's slender hands shook the entire time. It was as if her heartbreak was affecting her entire body.
Tracey's been going through a hard time in the last few months with her husband. Then on Friday, she received news that her favourite Aunt (back in South Africa) had passed away. I think that was a sadness that pushed her over the edge. Tracey spoke longingly (and it scared me to hear it) of her Aunt going to heaven and how she wished she were going, too.
Oh Tracey.
I stayed a longer after my shift on Friday because I didn't want to leave until I knew Tracey was a little more settled. She cried, ranted and raved and I listened and held her hand.
When Tracey had calmed down and I'd checked about 10 times if she was ok, I packed away my desk, turned my computer off and gave Tracey's hand one last reassuring squeeze before asking one final time if she was going to be okay.
Tracey nodded...but there a vacancy in her eyes as she did it.
"I'm going to be alright" she assured "I'm just upset...but a good rest and good sleep tonight will help"
"Make sure you're not on your own, ok? Get a friend to come sit with you tonight" I advised.
Tracey smiled up at me "There's a little old lady who checks on me of an evening. I'll ask her to stay for a cup of tea"
"Yes! Do that - and if you feel like you're struggling later on - call me - and Alun and I will come and get you"
"Thank you for being so kind" Tracey smiled again - a beautiful sad smile "I'll take a sleeping tablet and have an early night - no need to worry"
"Just one?" I checked, warily.
"Maybe the whole bottle" Tracey smiled again and let out a soft sigh.
Wait.
What?!?
"I'm just joking" Tracey smiled wryly. "Sorry. Not funny. Stop looking at me like that - go on home, I'll be fine"
I frowned. This didn't feel right.
I walked across the footbridge to the lifts and on sudden impulse, turned, ran back to the office and enfolded Tracey in a tight hug.
"Ooft!" she laughed gently "What's this for?"
"Just so you know you're loved, ok?"
"Ok"
And I left for home, thinking Tracey would be okay. Imagining her sharing a cup of tea with the little old lady whose beach apartment she was renting and feeling at total peace with that image.
On Saturday morning - around 8:00am, I 'vibered' Tracey. She loves Viber. Especially "talking in stickers", God bless her. Tracey always responds immediately always because she loves to ply my viber message board with horrendous stickers "hi" "hello" "good morning" "hot day" "summer" and so on.
No response.
An hour later, I tried again.
Still nothing.
At lunch, I sent a sticker of my own. A little hamburger with a knife and fork at each side and the word "lunch" in blue, bubbly writing. Tracey loves to tell me what she's preparing or eating for that day.
Nothing.
Hmm.
On Saturday evening, I tried again - sending a viber message, emails AND text messages this time. All saying "Hey you - please give me a call or message...I'm starting to worry about you"
No response.
I slept fitfully that night, worrying about Tracey and praying...knowing deep down something wasn't right.
On Sunday morning, I tried again. I called about 7 times between 8am to 11am.
Good friends advised to call the Police and ask them to do a "welfare check" on Tracey...so I did.
When I didn't get any answers from them, I searched facebook for Tracey's husband and praise God, there he was. I also found Tracey's eldest son, Ettienne.
I messaged them both "Hello I'm Janet - a friend and work colleague of Tracey's - she's not responded to my phone calls or messages and I'm starting to worry. Can you please let me know how she is? Thank you"
They both responded within 10 minutes of each other:
Tracey is in hospital. She will be okay, she just needs to be there for a week or so.
Oh no.
I visited on Tracey in hospital on Monday morning and that's why this blog is called "from the other side"
I've always been the suicidal one. I've not been the one who was OK and there to be the support.
It broke my heart to see my friend looking so tiny in her hospital bed. Her hospital gown was far too big for her slender frame and hung awkwardly from her bony shoulders.
"Hey" I whispered gently, taking her hand in mine as I did.
Tracey's beautiful blue eyes were a faded grey now. She looked up at me with sorrow and confusion.
"Am I supposed to be at work?"
Not sure how to answer, I looked across Tracey's hospital bed at her husband. Retief shrugged sadly. He had bags under his eyes and exhaustion on his face.
"No darling" I assured "You're meant to be here - resting"
Tracey nodded slowly...but I could tell she didn't fully comprehend.
"Do you see these ants?" Tracey suddenly sat bolt upright in bed "See? See them! So many of the little buggers!"
There was nothing there, yet Tracey traced her hand along her hospital bed rail.
"They're everywhere, Janet. Everywhere" Tracey looked up at me and tears fell down her cheeks.
Oh Tracey. What's happened to you?
"Ow" she wailed and held her chest. "I hurt. Everywhere"
Retief's hands were immediately on his wife's back. Gently, he lowered her back onto her pillow.
"I'm so thirsty" Tracey said.
Her lips were dry.
"Ok - water, apple or orange juice?" Retief offered
"What were the options again?" Tracey asked, scratching heavily on her arms as she did.
Retief patiently repeated the options.
"Apple" Tracey decided.
Retief and I gently lifted Tracey to a sitting position in her bed and Retief put a straw in the plastic cup that held apple juice. Tracey drank hungrily. It was all gone in seconds.
Retief looked weary and as we both waited outside Tracey's room while the Doctors ran some tests, he said he would go home to "look after the boys" and be back later that evening. He thanked me for visiting with Tracey and said I could stay as long as I liked.
I stayed for 3 hours.
Tracey was shaky, irritable and irrational the whole time. She was broken on the inside and frantic on the outside. It was so hard to see my friend like that. She dozed on and off the whole visit - often falling into a fitful sleep mid-sentence, then waking up and looking around her with fear and confusion. I held Tracey's frail hand in mine and reassured her every time she woke that everything was okay and to try to rest.
My heart broke over and over seeing my friend like this.
Her usual sparkle had been dulled to a strange fuzzy grey.
Her beautiful blonde hair was limp and hung sadly from her - as if her hair strands were upset, too.
"You know what?" I tried to joke to lighten the mood "You hair looks awful"
Tracey looked up, worried "Do I look really bad?"
"Nothing a quick brush wont fix" I fished out my tiny pink hairbrush from my handbag and gently brushed Tracey's hair. The effect seemed instantly calming and I could see the strain literally leaving her body. Tracey sighed and relaxed into her pillow.
"No one loves me, you know" she mumbled sleepily, eyes closing heavily. Her hair was fine now, but I still kept gently brushing because she seemed to like it so much.
"A lot of people love you" I answered.
"Hmm" Tracey reached up and held one of my hands tight.
I put my hairbrush back in my bag, bending awkwardly so that Tracey could still hold my hand.
"Hey, I'll stay until you fall asleep but then I'll go so you can get some rest, ok?" I whispered to an already sleeping Tracey.
I watched the rise and fall of her chest for 30 minutes, marvelling at how vulnerable we all must look in a hospital bed. Tracey looked so small and frail...I just wanted to take her home and give her cookies and cups of tea.
With a heavy heart, I gently slipped my hand from hers. Tracey frowned in her sleep briefly, but then went back to deep, regular breathing and her face relaxed.
My heart hurts for my friend. For how desperate she must have been to try to take her own life. I worry that I should have/could have done more. I worry that I left her on Friday and should have taken her home with me. The guilt and worry is immense, I blame myself for not being there for her.
And it hit me in all this worry - this is the burden I put on my friends when I am not well and when I struggle with suicide and depression.
It is a great, heavy burden.
Being 'on the other side' of this has made me think differently about it all.
I appreciate my friends so much more.
I appreciate life itself so much more.
Oh my.
"I just feel unloved, Janet" Tracey said, angrily wiping away at her tears as she sat behind her desk and placed her handbag on the floor next to her.
I'm so sorry, Tracey.
"My husband doesn't talk to me, my sons are all teenagers and answer my questions with grunts...what do I do? I'm so alone. I feel so rejected and unwanted"
Tracey's slender hands shook the entire time. It was as if her heartbreak was affecting her entire body.
Tracey's been going through a hard time in the last few months with her husband. Then on Friday, she received news that her favourite Aunt (back in South Africa) had passed away. I think that was a sadness that pushed her over the edge. Tracey spoke longingly (and it scared me to hear it) of her Aunt going to heaven and how she wished she were going, too.
Oh Tracey.
I stayed a longer after my shift on Friday because I didn't want to leave until I knew Tracey was a little more settled. She cried, ranted and raved and I listened and held her hand.
When Tracey had calmed down and I'd checked about 10 times if she was ok, I packed away my desk, turned my computer off and gave Tracey's hand one last reassuring squeeze before asking one final time if she was going to be okay.
Tracey nodded...but there a vacancy in her eyes as she did it.
"I'm going to be alright" she assured "I'm just upset...but a good rest and good sleep tonight will help"
"Make sure you're not on your own, ok? Get a friend to come sit with you tonight" I advised.
Tracey smiled up at me "There's a little old lady who checks on me of an evening. I'll ask her to stay for a cup of tea"
"Yes! Do that - and if you feel like you're struggling later on - call me - and Alun and I will come and get you"
"Thank you for being so kind" Tracey smiled again - a beautiful sad smile "I'll take a sleeping tablet and have an early night - no need to worry"
"Just one?" I checked, warily.
"Maybe the whole bottle" Tracey smiled again and let out a soft sigh.
Wait.
What?!?
"I'm just joking" Tracey smiled wryly. "Sorry. Not funny. Stop looking at me like that - go on home, I'll be fine"
I frowned. This didn't feel right.
I walked across the footbridge to the lifts and on sudden impulse, turned, ran back to the office and enfolded Tracey in a tight hug.
"Ooft!" she laughed gently "What's this for?"
"Just so you know you're loved, ok?"
"Ok"
And I left for home, thinking Tracey would be okay. Imagining her sharing a cup of tea with the little old lady whose beach apartment she was renting and feeling at total peace with that image.
On Saturday morning - around 8:00am, I 'vibered' Tracey. She loves Viber. Especially "talking in stickers", God bless her. Tracey always responds immediately always because she loves to ply my viber message board with horrendous stickers "hi" "hello" "good morning" "hot day" "summer" and so on.
No response.
An hour later, I tried again.
Still nothing.
At lunch, I sent a sticker of my own. A little hamburger with a knife and fork at each side and the word "lunch" in blue, bubbly writing. Tracey loves to tell me what she's preparing or eating for that day.
Nothing.
Hmm.
On Saturday evening, I tried again - sending a viber message, emails AND text messages this time. All saying "Hey you - please give me a call or message...I'm starting to worry about you"
No response.
I slept fitfully that night, worrying about Tracey and praying...knowing deep down something wasn't right.
On Sunday morning, I tried again. I called about 7 times between 8am to 11am.
Good friends advised to call the Police and ask them to do a "welfare check" on Tracey...so I did.
When I didn't get any answers from them, I searched facebook for Tracey's husband and praise God, there he was. I also found Tracey's eldest son, Ettienne.
I messaged them both "Hello I'm Janet - a friend and work colleague of Tracey's - she's not responded to my phone calls or messages and I'm starting to worry. Can you please let me know how she is? Thank you"
They both responded within 10 minutes of each other:
Tracey is in hospital. She will be okay, she just needs to be there for a week or so.
Oh no.
I visited on Tracey in hospital on Monday morning and that's why this blog is called "from the other side"
I've always been the suicidal one. I've not been the one who was OK and there to be the support.
It broke my heart to see my friend looking so tiny in her hospital bed. Her hospital gown was far too big for her slender frame and hung awkwardly from her bony shoulders.
"Hey" I whispered gently, taking her hand in mine as I did.
Tracey's beautiful blue eyes were a faded grey now. She looked up at me with sorrow and confusion.
"Am I supposed to be at work?"
Not sure how to answer, I looked across Tracey's hospital bed at her husband. Retief shrugged sadly. He had bags under his eyes and exhaustion on his face.
"No darling" I assured "You're meant to be here - resting"
Tracey nodded slowly...but I could tell she didn't fully comprehend.
"Do you see these ants?" Tracey suddenly sat bolt upright in bed "See? See them! So many of the little buggers!"
There was nothing there, yet Tracey traced her hand along her hospital bed rail.
"They're everywhere, Janet. Everywhere" Tracey looked up at me and tears fell down her cheeks.
Oh Tracey. What's happened to you?
"Ow" she wailed and held her chest. "I hurt. Everywhere"
Retief's hands were immediately on his wife's back. Gently, he lowered her back onto her pillow.
"I'm so thirsty" Tracey said.
Her lips were dry.
"Ok - water, apple or orange juice?" Retief offered
"What were the options again?" Tracey asked, scratching heavily on her arms as she did.
Retief patiently repeated the options.
"Apple" Tracey decided.
Retief and I gently lifted Tracey to a sitting position in her bed and Retief put a straw in the plastic cup that held apple juice. Tracey drank hungrily. It was all gone in seconds.
Retief looked weary and as we both waited outside Tracey's room while the Doctors ran some tests, he said he would go home to "look after the boys" and be back later that evening. He thanked me for visiting with Tracey and said I could stay as long as I liked.
I stayed for 3 hours.
Tracey was shaky, irritable and irrational the whole time. She was broken on the inside and frantic on the outside. It was so hard to see my friend like that. She dozed on and off the whole visit - often falling into a fitful sleep mid-sentence, then waking up and looking around her with fear and confusion. I held Tracey's frail hand in mine and reassured her every time she woke that everything was okay and to try to rest.
My heart broke over and over seeing my friend like this.
Her usual sparkle had been dulled to a strange fuzzy grey.
Her beautiful blonde hair was limp and hung sadly from her - as if her hair strands were upset, too.
"You know what?" I tried to joke to lighten the mood "You hair looks awful"
Tracey looked up, worried "Do I look really bad?"
"Nothing a quick brush wont fix" I fished out my tiny pink hairbrush from my handbag and gently brushed Tracey's hair. The effect seemed instantly calming and I could see the strain literally leaving her body. Tracey sighed and relaxed into her pillow.
"No one loves me, you know" she mumbled sleepily, eyes closing heavily. Her hair was fine now, but I still kept gently brushing because she seemed to like it so much.
"A lot of people love you" I answered.
"Hmm" Tracey reached up and held one of my hands tight.
I put my hairbrush back in my bag, bending awkwardly so that Tracey could still hold my hand.
"Hey, I'll stay until you fall asleep but then I'll go so you can get some rest, ok?" I whispered to an already sleeping Tracey.
I watched the rise and fall of her chest for 30 minutes, marvelling at how vulnerable we all must look in a hospital bed. Tracey looked so small and frail...I just wanted to take her home and give her cookies and cups of tea.
With a heavy heart, I gently slipped my hand from hers. Tracey frowned in her sleep briefly, but then went back to deep, regular breathing and her face relaxed.
My heart hurts for my friend. For how desperate she must have been to try to take her own life. I worry that I should have/could have done more. I worry that I left her on Friday and should have taken her home with me. The guilt and worry is immense, I blame myself for not being there for her.
And it hit me in all this worry - this is the burden I put on my friends when I am not well and when I struggle with suicide and depression.
It is a great, heavy burden.
Being 'on the other side' of this has made me think differently about it all.
I appreciate my friends so much more.
I appreciate life itself so much more.
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