The swelling in Tom’s feet, which seems to be water retention, dropped dramatically. He went down 5 pounds overnight. It still comes and goes, but hopefully it will continue to improve. He’s now using the heat massager on his feet which helps.

Attitudes about those threatening suicide have really changed since I tried to take my own life as a teenager over 20 years ago. Nowadays people are quick to get involved and want to help. They don’t write off most threats as mere cries for attention like they did years ago. There’s this lady on OLS who says a teenager on Pogo is threatening suicide. Years ago most people would be quick to tell her, “Don’t get involved. It’s not your problem. It’s probably just an attention-getter. You don’t even know that they’re really a teenager. They’d only take advantage of you if you pay them any mind and use suicide threats as a crutch. Besides, if they do kill themselves, it’s their life, and you’re not responsible for their actions.”

When I threw myself out a 2nd-story window and ended up with a broken arm when I was 17, I was treated as if I had killed a dozen innocent people for no reason at all. Some people smothered me, but most alienated me, making me feel much worse and even sorry that I survived. I was treated like a walking disease. I was made to feel ashamed of myself and I shouldered all the blame for many years, as young as I was.

“Try it again. Maybe next time you’ll succeed,” were the first words out of my mother’s mouth when she came to see me in the hospital. I never forgot those words. Definitely the wrong thing to say to make someone feel better about living, that’s for sure! I think – at least I hope – that even if my mother wouldn’t ever admit it, she at least realizes the error of her words and that she would react differently today, for no one attempts suicide that isn’t absolutely miserable. I’m glad more people today realize that you can’t solve problems with a bottle of pills, isolation, and insensitive words.

I was amazed when I read all the comments offering to pray for this mere electronic being in cyberspace whom they’d never met. Yet of all the dozens of people that I had to live with at the private school in which I tried to kill myself, who prayed for me? Nobody. Not one single, solitary soul.

And who came to visit me at the hospital while I lay there with my arm in a cast besides my parents? No one. Why? Because I “brought it on myself,” the school staff decided. No, no one could influence a 17-year-old to want to die, could they? No, it just had to be all my own doing and all for attention, despite the fact that most people with a rational mind would agree that jumping from a 2nd-story window is a rather risky way to get attention.

So the support I needed was kept from me, all because I was a “spoiled, manipulative little attention-getter.”