Suicide Survivors Join to Educate and Prevent   Gail Johnson Georgia Straight 2003 Four years ago, Jude Platzer lost her only son, Josh, to suicide. He was 15. A few weeks after his death, one of Platzer's colleagues asked, "You know it's a sin, don't you?" That was just one reaction she and her family found themselves facing. The Vancouver residents quickly learned about the shame, guilt, and confusion that affects people close to someone who dies by suicide. Although friends and relatives were a tremendous comfort after Josh killed himself, they say what they really needed was more health-care and community support beforehand. Platzer and her husband, Ben, knew Josh was depressed--he had attempted suicide in the past--and were trying to get him help, but they encountered numerous obstacles along the way. He couldn't get urgent care because, though he was mentally ill, his day-to-day situation wasn't considered a "crisis". A psychiatrist who came highly recommended had a long waiting list, and mental-health programs didn't have space. Jude Platzer asked a psychologist if she should watch Josh take his antidepressants and was told to back off. After her son died, she found four unopened bottles of medication. "There can't be a waiting list for this kind of thing," Platzer said in a phone interview. "When they really, really need it, people, particularly teens, need help immediately." According to the Canadian Association for Suicide Prevention, suicide is the second leading cause of death in 15- to 24-year-old Canadians after traffic fatalities. About 4,000 Canadians die by suicide every year. Despite recommendations from the World Health Organization for national prevention strategies, the federal government has not "recognized the need", according to CASP. So the Edmonton-based organization is coming up with a blueprint for a Canadian response to be released next fall, and is asking for input via a survey on its Web site (www.suicideprevention.ca/). There are several myths Platzer would like to shatter: that suicide only happens in "troubled" or financially strapped families; that a suicide attempt is manipulative behaviour that should be ignored; and that talking about intent will lead to suicide. Platzer, who works as a part-time nurse, recently founded the Josh Platzer Society for Teen uicide Prevention and Awareness to develop prevention strategies and boost people's understanding--and compassion. "You become isolated," Platzer said. "People don't want to talk about it. Or they'll say, 'You're strong. You can do it.' We're doing much better, but the pain never goes away." She added that holidays like Christmas are still "traumatic". The Platzer Web site (www.teensuicideprevention.org) tells Josh's story, outlines facts and misconceptions related to suicide, and stresses that taking one's life is not the solution to sadness. Resources it lists include the Kids Help Phone (1-800-668-6868) and the Crisis Intervention and Suicide Prevention Centre of B.C. (crisis line: 604-872-3311). "Depression is an illness just like diabetes," she added. "If you need your insulin, you take it. If you need your antidepressant, you take it." Platzer also wants small organizations to join forces to educate people. That's happening with a forum called Aftermath of Suicide: Private Pain and Public Action, taking place next Thursday (November 13). Hosted by the crisis centre, SAFER (Suicide Attempt Counselling Services), and B.C. Survivors as Advocates Coalition, the by-donation seminar will bring together survivors, professionals, friends, and others impacted by a suicide death. (For details on the 7 p.m. event, being held at the St. Paul's Hospital conference centre, call 604-872-1811, ext. 227.) The keynote speaker is Carla Fine, who wrote No Time to Say Goodbye: Surviving the Suicide of a Loved One (Main Street Books). Her 1999 book describes the pain, stigma, and sadness she felt following the suicide death of her 44-year-old husband, a prominent New York doctor, in 1989. Jennifer White, a mental-health therapist at SAFER, says the forum will look at ways survivors can work in partnership with mental-health professionals. "How can we bring people's attention to prevention, to suicide as a social and health issue?" she said in a phone interview. "A lot of people don't feel comfortable reaching out because of feelings of shame. There are places people can go where other people who have been through it can help." Bonny Ball, who's helping organize the seminar, can relate to feelings of anguish. Her son died by suicide in 1994 at age 21. She, too, has had to deal with the shame. "We silence it," Ball said over the phone. "Last year 532 people in B.C. died by suicide. How many death notices listed the cause?" Ball received a grant from the crisis centre to develop a plan to help survivors once they've made it past the "raw, traumatic" grief stage. She'd like to see people affected by suicide get the kind of support services available to people with cancer, as well as more help for parents whose children have mental illnesses. According to BC HealthGuide OnLine (www.bchealthguide.org/), a suicidal person feels helpless, hopeless, and worthless. Anytime someone talks about suicide or wanting to die, even jokingly, they have to be taken seriously. In teens and young adults, warning signs include depression, substance abuse, a recent breakup, few or no friends, problems at school, and disruptive behaviour. Signals in adults include failing relationships, giving away possessions, and poor job performance. Risk factors include a new medical condition; family history of mental illness; divorce, birth of a child, or job loss; and alcohol or drug abuse or withdrawal. The Platzer site has advice specifically for teens, explaining that there's a big difference between feeling down and real depression. Ball stressed the value of hope. "Depression is not a death sentence," she said. "There are treatments that really help people." And there's no shame in asking for help.