During this pandemic, all of us have had to find new, possibly creative, ways to cope when normally support would be much easier to seek. It’s May 2021 now, 14 months since campus closed due to COVID-19, and, like many of you, I did not anticipate for a second that it would stretch out this long, or that it would be so scary and complicated. Although BC’s recently announced restart plan is promising, we’re also hearing about mutations, variants, more lockdowns, rising numbers of cases, new restrictions, strict penalties for the refusal of rule compliance… The list goes on. We keep up with this while trying as students to keep up with assignments, classes, exams, and constantly changing online systems, while still trying to stay as connected to our people as possible. It’s extremely hard. Mental-health issues, depression, and drug and alcohol misuse have been steadily on the rise. People are finding alternate ways to cope when help in our medical system isn’t available.
This is a particularly personal subject with me because my partner Brian was one of these people. He was a Continuing Education student at Camosun, taking photography, something that gave him great joy, and he was one of the kindest, funniest, and intelligent people I’ve ever known.
He also struggled with episodes of serious depression.
We requested psychiatric help for years, and were rejected time and time again. According to the professionals we talked to, he had the appearance of a healthy, decent life. He had a government job, a loving spouse, a stable home. No reason for depression. The demons that plagued him were invisible and silent to everyone but him. The doctor did not take his demons seriously, nor was I taken seriously when I begged for help on his behalf.
To the devastation of all who knew and loved him, my partner died suddenly on April 13 of this year.
The COVID isolation sickness that has plagued us all is too much for some who are fragile already, and the opiate crisis is killing good people who believe they must self-medicate if other help just isn’t available. The mental-health medical system is failing at a time when it should be a top priority.
The biggest tragedy is that during his last week alive, my partner went to emergency three times asking for help. Each time, within a few hours, he was sent home. The last time, we were literally scolded for continuing to call the ambulance and wasting their time, when, according to them, there were much more important things going on. Not a thought to the fact that a man in personal turmoil had asked for help three times in one week.
Well, he found a different way to cope, and he definitely won’t be calling again.
I realize that this is much different than my other columns, and I apologize for the anger, for the resentment, for the despair.
All I can take away from this is that I am still alive. I seem to have discovered strength I didn’t know was there, yet there are many days where the grief is so real, so fresh, that it feels like I’m wading through a field of knee-high mud as I progress through the day. I still expect Brian to drive up our driveway with dinner on his mind. Reality can be cruel, and difficult to accept, as is sudden change.
So, what happens now? I am ultimately my own saviour; however, I take comfort that I am not alone throughout this. I have received a ton of support and remembrances, and Brian has left an impression on more people than I can count, through his work, his friends and family, and even places you’d never expect, like his favourite restaurant, and the people he met flying his drones. One person really does leave a powerful map behind them.
So, I will end with this—we can never tell how much love actually surrounds us, or how much we might impact a random person. Before things seem too much to bear, or before isolation starts to literally drive us crazy, let’s stay connected in whatever way possible, and let’s not forget that when people ask for help, they mean it.
Rest in peace, Brian. You are very much missed.
This is so beautiful, Emily and the strength required to write, let alone publish this, is immense. Particularly paragraph seven…
It makes me physically sick to think of someone in a state of emergency being, essentially, turned away from the hospital not once, not twice, but three times; at the very most, it seems, being given the once over of incompetence. That is messed up beyond comprehension, and proves the scope and depths of our shortcomings as a society right now extend so far beyond a terrifyingly fragile medical system.
It’s important to remember that the doctors probably did the best they could in that moment, and that the issue comes down to funding, socio-economics, capitalism, and the urgent need for shifts in thinking, and fundamental ways of being. For example, the fact that a person with great interpersonal skills and a burning desire to help likely spent 8 hours scanning groceries at Thrifty’s that week, when they could have been helping, shows us that we need to streamline the ability to help, through volunteering, donation, educational scholarships and bursaries; through–perhaps–making that person available via phone while they are scanning groceries, or recognizing that value isn’t always summed up by a paycheque. Why would someone possibly get in trouble with their boss for being available–hands free– to tend to a crisis during “work” hours, as they likely would, if they tried to be? That is the real work. We need to completely and utterly normalize the desire to help and put others before, or on par with, ourselves if we want to see change, in the same way that we normalize money-making, putting off time with friends, kids, partners, sports, to do so.
I am so sorry that so many need to suffer to bring about change. I am so sorry that the emergencies not felt by everyone continue to get swept under the rug. The biggest thing we can do is not let them be swept. Keep, writing, keep sharng, keep adding to the conversation. A life changed by this is a life forever changed.
So, what can we, the people who are transferred the pain, do beyond that? In short, listen. We can pick up the phone. We can share stories like this one, we can donate to Umbrella, Cool-Aid, etc. If we have time or money, or better yet, both to spare, give it. Give it, give it, give it, because in taking that one call, that one appointment, that one donation, we may literally be saving a life on a bad day and improving a life on a good one.
If each act we do is one step towards bettering a life, then may we please take it… because this is ridiculous, and proves just how dire the need for grassroots change is. Thank you so much for sharing this.
Thank you for your tender and wise words, Emily. It is so important to speak out about this to help people realize they are not alone with these struggles – and to point to the ways in which the medical system and social services are failing those in need. I’m so sorry for your loss.
This is such a powerful article. These Covid times have been tough for so many of us. I’m so sorry for your loss. I think your article is so relevant regarding the opioid crisis, struggles doing online classes, mental health struggles and our broken health care system. Thank you for writing this.