Intense Desperation

I am working away at my desk when our office assistant rushes in and says, “Uh Doug, there’s a man out front who says he wants to jump off our deck.”

OK, let’s move!

I told her to get building security called and as I approach the reception area I find a man just outside our entry doors. Let me explain the layout…

We are on the 13th floor of a combined use building – 13 floors of retail/business with another 5 floors of privately owned condos. We are on the 13th floor which is referred to as the Penthouse. As you exit the elevators you arrive at our glass doors – usually open, but closed this particular day due to the cold. After passing through the glass doors, its 30 feet to the sliding door to the deck.

So back to the scene at hand.

A man had exited the elevator and was standing just outside our glass doors staring through these doors and out to the deck. Once the receptionist noticed him just standing there, she cracked open the front door and asked if she could help him. He replied, “I want to jump off your deck.” Our receptionist, startled by what she thought she heard, said, “I am sorry, could you repeat that?” And he said again, “I want to jump off your deck.”

She turns to the office assistant who is there sorting mail, repeats what the man said and the office assistant is off to get me.

So as I approach the reception area, I find the receptionist still in the doorway and the man still just outside the door, 30 feet from his objective.

I slipped past the receptionist, closed our doors and started talking with this man – while standing between him and our doors.

He won’t respond to any of my questions. He just stood there and stared out towards the water, towards the edge of the deck.

Do you know how it feels when you are about to cry and you know if you utter one word you will just bawl? His lip was quivering and tears were welling up in his eyes. I so much just wanted him to start talking. I didn’t care if he cried.

And without answering any of my questions he said, “I just want to jump.” The only thing he ever said to me while on our floor.

At that point I started talking about going downstairs. We move towards and get on an elevator headed for the lobby. I’ll admit that while he appeared harmless, while there in the elevator with him was the first time I was a little afraid of what he might do. But he just stood in the corner of the elevator.

We exited the elevator and start moving towards the building lobby. He wants to go outside. To where, I don’t know.

I keep trying to talk with him. Finally I get a name. His name is Joe. He is still moving towards the front doors to leave. I just flat out tell him, “Look, I don’t want you to leave. Let’s get you someone that can help you work through this.”

By now a security officer has appeared on the scene and an aid car has been called.

Joe is by the door. I try to get between him and the door. I asked him what was going on in his life that would make him want to jump off the deck. He answered, “Everything in my life is wrong.” It was the most he said the whole time we talked. I said to him, “Wow, that has to be so overwhelming. You can’t change it all at once, but there are people that can help you to start walking through areas of your life one at a time to help you deal with them.” He doesn’t reply.

Between the security officer and me we convince him to sit down. While the security officer is off getting some hot chocolate for Joe, I keep talking with him. I learned he was from Miami. He said he didn’t have any friends or job here, and that he stayed in a different shelter each night.

I noticed he was clutching a folded, yellow piece of paper in his hand. I asked him what it was. He handed it to me. I read over the form which was a copy of a release form he had signed for the DSHS to give a nearby clinic his medical records. Plus, I now knew his last name and birthdate. He’d earlier told me his age, which the birthdate supported. He is 45 and completely without any hope for a tomorrow…

I asked him what the clinic was going to do or when he was supposed to go back. He replied, “I don’t know” to both questions. On the form was written, ‘Coordination of services’.

Just then the aid car shows up. I wish we’d had more time to just talk.

I shared with the EMTs what I knew and showed them the piece of paper. They were trying to decide what to do and I offered to go call the clinic to see what they intended next for him. “OK,” they said.

I called the clinic and after three people actually reached the mental health professional he’d met with right before coming to our office. She was clearly rattled as she let slip out, “He said he was going to go jump off of a building.” My gosh, why did they let him go!? She indicated that Joe should be transported to the Psychiatric ER of Harborview Medical Center and they would phone ahead to assist with coordinating his care.

I went back down stairs and they already had Joe in the aid car, just waiting to hear what I had learned and for the piece of yellow paper.

After I calmed down a bit, I called the lady at the clinic as I had a couple of questions. I told her how I believe she and others in the mental health profession must have such an incredibly difficult job and that I wasn’t trying to judge her, but asked why she let him go. She replied, “I didn’t know what to do and he didn’t want to go to Harborview and I couldn’t hold him.” She said, “I do know you saved his life.” Apparently though, if a person is about to harm themselves or others, the police CAN be called and they can then get him transported to a place of care/help.

I called Harborview in an attempt to see if I could connect with Joe and if nothing else, offer an ear. The ER nurse said that I couldn’t see him or get contact information, but that I could leave my name and number, which I did. I called the Harborview chaplain and he told me I had done all I could as far as trying to reach Joe.

Later I got a call asking me to give a statement as part of his evaluation process.

Today, two days later, I received a call from the local clinic. It was the clinic director calling to thank me for my “heroic efforts”. I played down that part, but she insisted that our actions kept Joe from jumping and taking his life. She walked through the event with me, amazed that I was able to talk him down to the lobby area. She says there are trained people in her clinic that find that hard to do.

I shared with her how unnerving it was to look in to his eyes and see such intense desperation…

We concluded the conversation with her letting me know that because we’d stopped Joe from jumping and then kept him from leaving the building that he is now getting the care he needs. That he is in a safe place. Otherwise he may have found a place to jump from.

I guess I have done all I can and can only pray for Joe and those that are helping him.

But it’s a good feeling to know I had a part in Joe having a tomorrow.

Collided with a Pigeon while on the Motorcycle...

I got a chance to test out my motorcycle helmet yesterday. Score – Doug 1 Pigeons 0. Well, mostly.

I was zipping along Hwy 520 on my way to work, travelling (please pay careful attention to the wording here) along with the flow of traffic which happened to be about 70 mph, when all of the sudden I see a pigeon coming right at me! There wasn’t even a chance to avoid the collision. All I could do was duck. (No pun intended or attempted)

Fortunately the pigeon hit the windshield first before slamming in to my helmet. The windshield broke down towards the base and has a white powder-like residue and scratches on it where the pigeon hit. The top of the helmet is covered in the same white powder-like material with the outline of a wing tip in it! An air vent sliding-cover was askew, easily snapped back in place, and there are scratches from a beak or claws, but otherwise the helmet is OK.

Immediately after the impact, which was at the left temple – I felt pain in my right temple. I slowed down, surveyed the windshield damage, and decided to go on. By time I got to work I just “felt funny”. Not disoriented or sick, just funny. Then I found as I was working on spreadsheets or completing forms it took more effort to decide where to click or what to do next when these were routine things I was working on. A little dizziness now and again, but nothing major. I just felt “off”. As the morning progressed the right side of my neck began to ache and get stiff.

I called this 800-number nurse hotline (No honey, I didn’t say that I called a hot nurse…) and after a series of questions she recommended I at least go get checked out. So I finished a few tasks, had one more meeting that was on my calendar and headed out. Yes, of course I was on the motorcycle! The windshield snapped just above a clamp that holds on a side piece. I was able to snap the top piece back in to the clamp and it seems to be holding. Although, without a doubt it won’t withstand another pigeon collision! Time for a new one.

The doctor examined me and took three x-rays of my neck. He concluded I have a mild concussion and cervical strain (caused by whiplash). In fact I looked up cervical strain online when I got home and the picture they show of the straightening of the lordotic curve was exactly like the x-ray! The neck has a natural curve, but mine was straight as a result of the muscles spasms caused by the whiplash. The doc says this is what caused the pain in the right temple – the whiplash in the neck radiated up to my right temple. And the concussion, well it’s just making me expend more energy on staying focused and concentrating…

The effects of the concussion will slowly wear off over the next two weeks. In the meantime, no jigsaw puzzles or crossword puzzles. He says studies have proven that concussions heal faster if you “rest the brain”. Guess I’ll get back to my Alzheimer fighting tactics in a few weeks. The whiplash will potentially get worse before getting better, but within a month I should be fine.

AND payment for these medical services? Covered as a MVA (motor vehicle accident)! As I was filling out the form I had to answer questions about the “other car”. Year, make and model? It was a pigeon. How fast was the other vehicle traveling? I don’t know – maybe 5 mph – it was a pigeon. Was anyone in the other vehicle injured? It was a pigeon folks!

But what fun with people… I told a couple of people I was taking off to go to the doctor because I hit a pigeon on the way to work and their reply was, “Yeah, and my dog ate my homework.” I get to the doctor’s office, the nurse calls my name and as I am walking up to her, she gets this crooked grin on her face and says, “A pigeon, huh?” The “MVA lady” says, “Good for you! We have way too many pigeons.” And my insurance agent, who is also my nephew, has a new story to add to his store of stories, saying, “Nope, haven’t heard this one before. And probably never will again,” as he busts out laughing.

So that was my Thursday. How was your Thursday?

Mercy

In April of 2007, we found a little home in Kent to buy. And a cat.

One day in 2006, the previous owners, Paul and Norma Butler, found a cat under their deck. They soon realized the cat was a female and also had kittens with her. They eventually were able to get the cat out, who was just skin and bones. They took the cat and her kittens to the vet, getting them all fixed and vaccinated. Soon afterwards, one of the kittens disappeared and the other two were given away. The Butlers named the cat Mercy. She hung around…because they fed her!

When we made the offer on the house, one of the Butlers first concerns were about us taking care of Mercy. "We can't take her with us. Will you put food out for her?" Of course we will.

We bought house and the cat.

After moving in we realized how skittish Mercy was. Some people called her a "scat" cat – a cat that is sneaking food from wherever they can find it and then run off by people saying, "Scat! Get out of here!" If Mercy was on the deck when I put out the food, she would run off if I made a noise or moved my leg/foot or arm/hand too quickly. Sometimes we wouldn't see her for up to three days.

Then one day, probably close to being there a year, she let me pet her. Not for long. And only by the food dish. But she let me pet her.

I tried string on a stick and other toys, but she would never play with me. We caught her once in a while playing with a wind-blown leaf on the deck, or swatting at a stream of water from the soaker hose, but she wouldn't play with us. We figure she must have been abandoned at an early age and survival in the wild was foremost on her mind, not playing…

As time progressed, she began following me around the yard…never coming too close…even running off if I acknowledged she was there. But we were becoming friends.

Eventually, she even let me pick her up…for 30 seconds or so. And then one day…she purred. Yes, she was getting comfortable.

As time passed she even came in the house. She never wanted to stay for long. Maybe 10 minutes or so. This eventually grew in to 45 minutes. One day – and one day only – I found her curled up in the middle of the guest bed comforter sleeping like a baby. But she was definitely an outdoor cat.

There were times when I would be on the deck at night and she would hear a noise. We'd walk together to investigate the noise, Mercy on one side of the deck and me on the other – between her and the noise of course. Once satisfied there was no danger, or after scaring off the raccoons, we would go back to the step to the sliding door and sit down. I would pet her for a while and then say goodnight.

We had a bed for her on the deck. She would always be there in the morning and as soon as I opened the sliding door, she would meow, jump off the bed and run in to the house. She would plop herself on the floor, roll over and wait for me to rub her belly. This is how we started most days. (You need to know Cheryl and I sleep with our bedroom window open – all year round.) On mornings where we tried to sleep in, Mercy would get up to our window and meow, "Get up! I am hungry!"

Every evening would find her waiting at the slider for us. For most of the 4 years there, she never came inside in the evening – just waited outside while I prepared her dinner. But the last few months, she would come inside in the evenings too for some belly rubbing.

Remember how I said she would run at the slightest noise when we first met? As time progressed she would accompany me in to the shop and despite the loudest bangs, she would stay there with me. Eventually she would even allow herself to be petted or picked up other places around the yard, not just by her food dish.

Mercy grew to trust me, letting me play with her paws, put medication on her, look at scratches… I even got her to sit on my lap a few times.

But she was still an outdoor and "wild" cat.

We moved to Woodinville one week ago. We are out in the country with coyotes. On top of that we just didn't see Mercy making the adjustment very well. The two neighbors, Kathryn and Kathy (two different neighbors) said they would feed Mercy and watch out for her. After all, one of them was already feeding her anyway, and Mercy frequently slept on a chair of the other neighbor's front porch. But as the week grew on, the neighbors reported Mercy was acting more lost and just sat at our back door and cried.

I went down one day to get mail and she comes up to me, lays down and wants to be petted. She let me pick her up and hold her for a long time. I went in to the house; she followed me in and then wouldn't go out when I tried to close up the house. She missed me…

So we decided to transport her out here to Woodinville. She was one scared cat by the time we got here. She immediately went behind and then under the couch. She came out a couple of times. Cried. And went back under. Finally she came out and over to me. I picked her up and she sat in my lap purring.

I took her out to the shed by the horse pasture to show her where her bed, scratching post and dishes were. She sat in her bed for a minute and then went behind the refrigerator where she remained the rest of the afternoon. I coaxed her out that evening with some canned food. She ate the food, letting me pet her and looking around. Then she went back behind the frig.

However, Monday morning she was gone. And her dry food was untouched. I hoped she was just out exploring. We added more dry food and went to work. We came home and still no Mercy and no sign of her eating her food.

Who knows where she went, or if she will come back. I don't think her odds are good out there with the abundance of coyotes – brave enough to walk the streets here in daylight! And if she tries to go back to Kent, it's a long way and she would need to cross I-90.

We left canned food out last night, but it hasn't been touched.

She grew from running away for three days if I moved too fast to trusting me. And I feel like I let her down. Maybe we introduced her to the outside too quickly. My heart breaks when I think of how scared and disoriented she must have been. And now she's on her own.

I hope you come home Mercy. Your food and bed are waiting for you.

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