“You Saved her life”

 (about life and death, and a moment in between)

It is a big statement to hear, felt like a burden but also like a badge of honour, and I should be used to it, as my son said to me: you are a nurse, you always save people’s lives! So it should be just another day! But it is not.

She was standing on the ledge, holding on the metal bars for dear life. Whenever I hear about someone committed suicide I try to imagine a conversation with them just before they did it: why? what about the others? what about the future? is it really that bad? and many more questions where I would listen patiently and hope that I could get them to change their mind. This time it was real, no imagination, and no time for anything but help.

In the dark, the shy light in the distance was enough to show how lonely it was. She was standing on the other side of the wall, holding on it because clearly she did not want to die, or that was what I wanted to believe. I hesitated for a second as I questioned myself if it was real or not, I ran towards her and held on her arms, as tight as I could, questions and ideas bubbling inside my head but all I could say: are you alright? Mixed with tears her answer came back: no, I want to die!

I wanted to say look how beautiful life could be; the new moon in the dark sky, the spring breeze, the smell of coffee in the morning, smile on strangers faces, the many things we live through everyday  but we do not notice. I wanted to say so much about how wonderful life could be, but I knew I would be lying, because I know life is tough, also remembered how awful humans could be to each other, how horrible we are to ourselves and fellow humans, today, everyday, throughout history and everywhere on earth.

She said: I had enough, I have been thinking about this for some time and I just want to die, no one is helping me. While holding her arms I instantly said: I am helping you! I could hear the echo of my words in my head and wondered if I really was helping!

I did help, eventually with the help of many others we saved her, and as people learnt about what happened they said to me: well done, you saved her life.

Did I? I wondered. Did she want her life to be saved? Was that the right thing? Maybe the burden of living is bigger for some than the pain of dying, hopelessness overtakes any drive to live and any fear of death, and maybe they have the right to do so.

After we got her off the wall, I walked away and she was taken with the police to a place of safety. Our paths might never cross again, I would like to believe that I did a heroic thing, and I am proud of it, but inside me, I keep wondering if she did manage to do it again (and succeeded), or if she is grateful for my actions. Because if she was not then I know it was not heroic, it was selfish.

Ahmad Baker

London

07.03.2019