A desperate act opens her eyes to the big picture

The last stitch tied, I whisked off my gloves and tossed them into the red bag. The scar would be minimal, I reassured my patient -- the cut on his brow was horizontal and ran across natural skin lines. Fortunately, he’d been wearing his seat belt.

I pushed against the double doors of the emergency room’s surgical suite and eased into the hall. The eerie quiet was interrupted by the staccato rhythm of the triage nurse’s clogs as she wheeled a squeaky cart holding the day’s charts toward the records room.

I passed several double doorways on my way to the nurses’ station, the slits in them dark to declare the absence of patients inside the rooms. Only one slit was lighted, I noted almost unconsciously, signifying a patient waiting for the doctor imminently due to start the night shift.

Almost at the nurses’ station, I stopped dead in my tracks. What exactly had I glimpsed behind those two exam room doors?

Alarmed, I ran back down the hall and shoved the doors open. Yes -- a young man, his face reddish-blue and gasping, hanging by his chin from the pipes lining the ceiling by the leather of his looped belt.

I raced to his side and grabbed him around the waist -- straining to hold up his torso and head to relieve the pressure on his throat. At a foot shorter and about 100 pounds lighter than he was, I knew I could neither lift him up over his belt loop nor maintain the support that kept him from choking for long.

I shouted as loudly as I could for help, hoping that one of the two nurses on duty would hear me. After what felt like an eternity, I was joined by other ER staff who grabbed his flailing arms and legs and helped lower the coughing man to the floor.

We stayed with the young man until the psychiatrist on duty arrived. Only later did we learn the reasons for the man’s despondency.

He had come to the ER complaining of anxiety and insomnia. A graduate student in psychology, he had just failed the examinations that would have qualified him to proceed with his thesis and get his doctorate.

His world and his dreams had shattered in that moment, and he could see no other option for himself but death.

And yet, some part of him -- the psychologist-in-training, perhaps -- had surfaced from his ocean of despair and brought him to the emergency room for help. There, his drive to end his life was countered by the safety net of the hospital and its staff.

Suicide is the eighth-leading cause of death in men, according to the federal Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. It’s the third-leading cause in young men (15 to 24), who are often overwhelmed by stress at home, work or school.

Men are more likely to die of suicide than women, though women attempt suicide three times as often. Two-thirds of men use firearms -- and these suicide attempts are more likely to be successful.

The patient was admitted to the psychiatric unit for his own protection and was treated with antidepressants and psychotherapy.

With intensive counseling and treatment for his depression, he learned how to cope more effectively with life’s challenges, helping him see beyond suicide as an option.

I ran into the young man six months later in the university library, researching topics for his final doctoral project. He informed me proudly that he had recently repeated his examinations, and, with rigorous study, had succeeded in passing them.

His therapy had motivated him to resume his education and training in the hopes of preventing others from choosing the path that had brought him to the emergency room that night.

He was deeply grateful that we had been there to keep him alive and give him a second chance.

I try not to let myself dwell on the possibility that my laceration repair that evening might have taken a bit longer -- enough time for the suicide plan to succeed. Instead, I’ve resolved to explore my patients’ mental health in addition to their physical complaints.

Some suffer from mental illness and pain, others struggle with emotional despair, fear or failure.

To many, I can offer medicine, to others, hope and an arm of support, standing beside them and helping them hang on through the dark moments with the promise of solace ahead.

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Dr. Linda Reid Chassiakos is director of the Klotz Student Health Center at Cal State Northridge and a clinical assistant professor of

pediatrics at UCLA.