Healing the Wound from My Daughter’s Suicide

On June 22, 2005 Patty was healed of her brokenness, no longer held captive in this life, and released from her imprisoned mind.

For two years before Patty died, I would frequently get mind pictures of Patty coming out of her bedroom sobbing hysterically and panicking over the fact that she did not hear her alarm clock and would now be late for work. I always assumed I pictured this because Patty was always overtired, had trouble going to sleep because of anxiety, and then could hardly wake up to the alarm once she finally got to sleep. The irony here is that we believe this is what she experienced before her last panic attack which led to her suicide on June 22, 2005 at 5:00 PM. From her boy friend we learned Patty had not slept June 19th and 20th. Yet she had worked all day June 20th and 21st at her new first shift position in surgery. The nurse who worked with her June 21st said Patty had been very focused that day. Another lady who saw her at lunch that day said Patty looked sad. (A friend saw her at the bank on her way home from work that day and said Patty looked sad). I was also told by hospital staff that she drank lots of caffeine drinks at work like Red Bull and had Stay Awake pills in her work locker. Being so sleep deprived she must have taken two diazepam in order to sleep the night of June 21st after she called her Dad at Elmbrook Hospital. Diazepam is a generic form of valium which makes panic attacks worse and can even cause panic attacks when you are coming off of it. We found two diazepam wrappers (each 5 mg) on her night stand and one for Alprazolam (.25 mg), a sleeping tablet. After investigation, it seems that Patty slept through her entire day of work. She had her night clothes on at the death scene. Her new cell phone had one call from the hospital at 7: 30 AM and another one at 2:30 PM. (It bothered me that the hospital never called us in the afternoon when they got no answer again at 2:30 PM. A month later I learned that Patty’s neighbor across the hall told the police she had seen Patty at 3:00 PM and she had looked sad). We think she thought she would be terminated from the hospital for missing the day of work and panicked - never tried to call any of us - wrote the enclosed note - put a sticky note on her driver’s license that said, “Call my Mom and Dad and gave our phone number - and then jumped out her living room window (height from the 6th floor). The Doctor who did the autopsy said she died upon impact due to excessive bleeding in the heart - lung area. Her heart was literally smashed. All her limbs were fractured multiple times and bones punctured the skin. Her clothes were bloody. Spinal fluid was coming out of her nose. When Vince and Katerina got to her side, @ 4:55PM, Katerina, a nurse, could not get a pulse. It seemed so unbelievable that such a gentle, compassionate person could die in such a way. Patty was declared dead at 5:21PM. Three weeks later after putting this timeline together, I could not help but think what I could have done with that time between 2:30 PM and 5:00 PM since most suicide books say the impulsivity or the “temporarily insane” time to decide on the suicide is most often ten to fifteen minutes. But I did not let my thinking go there in 2005 because I knew what the reality was. All the hindsight in the world was not going to bring Patty back to this life with us.

I bear the heart ache that Patty did not call me as her last resort. I wanted to be there for her. I brought her into this world, but I could not be there as she left this world. But God knows best even though I would rather give my life for hers. But God did send a nurse to hold Patty’s hand as she went through her transition and transformation.

Ironically during the time Patty was dying, Bob and I were at a financial planning free dinner at Davian’s on Silver Spring. We were explaining to the people we ate dinner with that our daughter, Patty, had worked at Davian’s cutting wedding cakes and waiting on tables for weddings when she was in high school to earn college tuition money. On our drive home from that dinner (about 6:30 P.M.), Jeanne, Patty’s sister, called us frantically telling us that Patty’s boy friend, Steve, had called her and was worried because every time he called Patty’s phone number, the Cudahy police answered. The first time it happened the police simply would not tell him anything. Steve thought maybe someone had stolen Patty’s cell phone again. (The week before someone broke into Patty’s car to steal her cell phone and car radio. When Patty had called her own cell phone number, the robber told her to meet him and he would give her the cell phone for $40). The second time Steve called Patty’s phone number, the police answered again. This time they asked him who he was. He answered that he was Patty’s boy friend and was worried about her. They then asked Steve if Patty had been depressed. He did not think so. (Steve told us later that he never saw this coming in his relationship with Patty. Hospital workers told us the same thing. Her sister, Jeanne, had no indication of anxiety or depression either).

When Jeanne had reached us by cell phone, we were five minutes from home. She told me the Cudahy police told Steve that they would only talk to Patty’s parents. We quickly drove home. As soon as I called the non-emergency number of the Cudahy police, I gave my name and reason for calling. The lady told me she would get the officer in charge of that case - which seemed to take forever. When that officer finally got to the phone, he verified my name, address and phone number.

When I questioned the officer about what happened, he responded that he was not allowed to tell me on the phone but would send an officer to our address and discussed what the closest police department might be. I offered to travel to the Cudahy Police Department and he said, “No,” very emphatically. This was my clue that Patty was dead. Otherwise I would have assumed he would have directed us to a hospital.

It seemed like a nightmare waiting for the police - our AGONY in the garden. Bob found himself hoping Patty had been abducted so that some hope would remain that she was still alive. Later, he said, “How horrible is that?”

So when Dad and I were waiting for the police to come to our house, I stood in front of Patty’s high school graduation picture and said to her in my mind: I know you are dead and you are right here in spirit. You have to let me know every day of my life that you are okay and happy. I do think she started to do this right away as we made decisions in regard to her death. She helped me think clearly so I could ask the right questions of the right people that evening and the next day.

That agonizing wait took three hours. In the meantime our daughter Jeanne called several times to find out if we had any information yet. Finally a police car circled the subdivision and was checking addresses. We ran out on the porch and waved to him and he kept on driving. We called Cudahy police again; they were upset no one had shown up at our house yet. Another half hour elapsed because the inexperienced policeman was waiting for the Waukesha County chaplain to accompany him to deliver the news.

Finally they arrived at our front door. The policeman says: “Your daughter, Patty, is dead. It was suicide.” I immediately said, “How?” When he responded that she had jumped out a window, I had to cover my face so I could make a horrible face of pain and anguish; it seemed so awful and unimaginable. But I felt it important to ask the right questions at the right time for investigation purposes. So I asked, “Which window?” The officer replied that I would have to call the medical examiner who had gone to the scene of death and gave me her phone number.