Suicide Not Painless, Despite the Song

One of the hit movies of 1970 was M*A*S*H, which spawned the highly acclaimed and wildly successful T. V. show of the same name (Sept. 17, 1972- Feb. 28, 1983). The film and series purportedly were set in an American mobile army surgical hospital during the Korean War, but many people believed that cleverly disguised the Vietnam War. I’ve always believed the T. V. show was a hit for various reasons—including the terrific acting, wry humor, inspired writing, and the bouncy and catchy theme song, 'Suicide is Painless.' The movie used the music and lyrics; the T. V. show, just the music.
I thought about the M*A*S*H theme song this week when, like many others, I was shocked and saddened to learn of the suicide of 11-year-old Mitchell Wilson of Pickering, Ontario. But is suicide really painless? If it’s not, who really suffers? Those who kill themselves? Their surviving family members and friends? Society as a whole?

I try to find a way to make
all our little joys relate
without that ever-present hate
but now I know that it's too late, and...

Refrain: …suicide is painless
It brings on many changes
and I can take or leave it if I please.

The game of life is hard to play
I'm gonna lose it anyway
The losing card I'll someday lay
so this is all I have to say.

Refrain: …suicide is painless
It brings on many changes
and I can take or leave it if I please.

--Excerpt from ‘Suicide is Painless’

(Lyrics, Mike Altman; Music, Johnny Mandel)

Mitchell Wilson's father has said publicly he thinks his son’s self-esteem plummeted in the past couple of years, and he believes he killed himself not just because of one thing, but an accumulation of various recent tragic events in his young life. First and foremost, was the untimely death of Mitchell’s mom when he was eight. Then, he was diagnosed about a year ago with muscular dystrophy (MD); learning his own future with MD was bleak at best; facing a life of no more walking, running, or playing, confined to a wheelchair, if he didn’t die first. 
Mitchell had also been bullied at school and elsewhere. Most recently, he was attacked while he was out walking, to keep his strength up; and listening to music on an electronic device. By all accounts the assault was so vicious his assailant, allegedly a 12-year-old boy, slammed Mitchell’s face into the sidewalk, even breaking some of his teeth. Then he stole Mitchell’s electronic device and, like most tough guy-cowards, ran away. They caught the boy believed to have committed the assault, and Mitchell was recently served with a subpoena to testify against him in court. But apparently he couldn’t face the prospect of confronting his alleged attacker in court, which he might've thought would set him up for even more assaults as a result. 
Mitchell decided he’d suffered enough. Now, tragically, he’s dead, at the tender age of 11, by his own hand, before his MD had a chance to really do its expected debilitating damage. His dad found him on his bed the following morning when he went to wake him for school; his head enveloped by a plastic bag, tied shut with the family dog’s leash. No more school, no more bullying, no more getting beaten up, no more pain--physical or emotional.

Was suicide painless for Mitchell, as the M*A*S*H song says? Was it painless as he lay on his bed for the last time, thinking about his dad and the rest of his family he’d never see again? Did he, mercifully, just pass out instantly from suffocation, and not suffer? Did he gasp for breath? Did he change his mind and decide he wanted to live after all, but was unable to untie the plastic bag from his head? Was his suicide painless for his dad and other family members?

Similarly, was suicide painless this summer for three active or retired NHL players, about whom I wrote in a previous blog entry? Was it painless for those who loved and cared for them? We could ask the family members of Wade Belak, the recently-retired NHL ‘enforcer’-fighter who apparently suffered quietly from some degree of depression while typically presenting himself to most who knew him as Mr. Happy-go-Lucky; and who reportedly hanged himself Aug. 31, 2011--supposedly to the surprise of all who knew him. We could ask the family members of NHL player Rick Rypien, whose depression was an open secret and who hanged himself Aug. 15, 2011. We could ask the family members of NHL player Derek Boogaard who’d been drinking and overdosed, apparently accidently, on other drugs May 13, 2011.

Bill Wilkerson, co-founder of the Global Business and Economic Roundtable on Addiction and Mental Health, recently said suicide is a “societal phenomenon” and family members and friends might never know exactly why someone killed him/herself. But he said the rest of us can better-understand how someone can lean toward suicide, and maybe help prevent it from happening, if we recognize common scenarios that can be overwhelming (Globe and Mail, Sept. 7, 2011). These include:

Ø      emotional isolation (malignant loss of self-esteem and usefulness);

Ø      peer pressure and exclusion (deep sense of having lost acceptance, recognition, belonging);

Ø      void of joblessness (deep sense of loss of identity, self-worth);

Ø      emptiness of depression (pervasive loss of the energy and motivation to live);

Ø      impulse (why not right now);

Ø      drugs/alcohol (desperation peaks);

Ø      available means (gun, rope, drugs, locale);

Ø      family history of suicide (higher risk);

Ø      youth and children (altered perceptions of death and dying; loss of place); and

Ø      social disadvantage and grievance (profound weariness of perpetual worry and seething).

Wilkerson says the chain reaction among the above 10 symptoms can be broken with love and friendship which can help steer the suicidal person toward professional help (Globe and Mail, Sept. 7, 2011). I agree, but for this to happen the person who’s feeling suicidal must ask for or accept unsolicited help if it’s offered; and the person’s friends and family members must try to be insightful and perceptive, and not be afraid to ask the tough question: are you thinking about hurting yourself?

But I suggest those who are feeling suicidal, male or female, might not admit they’re feeling or thinking that way if they’re determined to die. Because if they really are determined to die they might not invite help by letting others know how they feel, and they might not accept help if it's offered to them. Yet, they might admit their suicidal feelings and thoughts, and therefore seek or accept help, if they mainly want or need attention, sympathy, or pity more than they have a need to die.

Kathy English, Public Editor at the Toronto Star, says suicide is “the 10th leading cause of death in Canada and the second leading cause for those aged 15 to 24;” and she believes the media’s traditional reluctance to report suicides has a lot to do with conventions of our society in general, and “conventional practice within journalism” specifically. But, she adds, usually when people commit suicide, “it seems to me there’s a case to be made for “overriding public interest” in seeking to understand why” (Sept. 30, 2011). 
English argues the media, by reporting “stories about suicide,” can initiate critical conversations about depression and serious mental health issues “that affect one in five Canadians.” She adds the “conventional media silence” over suicide seems to be changing, and more journalists are reporting “the facts about suicide — which claims many more lives in Canada than homicide or car crashes” (Toronto Star, Sept. 30, 2011). 
English might be right in saying publicizing suicides can be instructive. The suicides of Belak and Rypien, and the accidental overdose-suicide of Boogaard, were all widely-reported in the media; and the NHL paid attention, at least initially. And after the headlines this week about the suicide of 11-year-old Mitchell Wilson, who couldn’t take any more of what life threw at him, many people are upset and talking about him and his heartbreaking story too.

These suicides are just an iota of the total number of course, and most aren't discussed publicly. I suspect most family members and friends might be embarrassed—because of our societal stigma—to reveal someone they loved and cared for committed suicide. But perhaps having these few stories in print, and knowing many people are talking about them, might help reduce the stigma and awkwardness of these and other suicides a little; even though they’ll never be painless, regardless of what the M*A*S*H song says.