Choices: Pastoral Intervention With A Suicidal Person -- By: Joeseph Baroody

Journal: Faith and Mission
Volume: FM 05:1 (Fall 1987)
Article: Choices: Pastoral Intervention With A Suicidal Person
Author: Joeseph Baroody


Choices: Pastoral Intervention With A Suicidal Person

Joeseph Baroody

Chaplain, McLeod Regional Medical Center
Florence, SC

I remember her knocking on my office door late one Friday afternoon. Ann was on time for her appointment. She had called about noon expressing an urgent need to see me that day if at all possible. We agreed to meet at 5:00 p.m. After hanging up, I became curious as to what her urgent need could be.

I first met Ann while serving as interim pastor at her church three years earlier. She was then a 32-year-old divorced parent with an ll-year-old son. She did not have custody of the boy but did spend every other weekend with him. During that interim pastorate, I learned she had once attempted suicide. Later, on two occasions, Ann had been a patient on the psychiatric floor at the hospital where I serve as a chaplain. As a hospital chaplain, I developed a trusting relationship with her during the time of her internment. Her psychiatrist, Dr. Mark Edwards, however, accused me of doing psychotherapy when he learned I let Ann hit a pillow to ventilate her anger. As a result, I visited less frequently with her, encouraging Ann to discuss “therapy” issues with Dr. Edwards.

I opened the door and greeted her with a smile. She smiled and shook my hand as she came in. “How are you, Ann?”

“Fine, thank you, Joe. It’s good to see you.” Her voice indicated she was not nearly as “fine” as she had said. I noted that her hand quivered. I showed her to a chair and watched as she placed her small, 100-pound, five-foot-three-inch frame into the seat. Her normally pale complexion looked even more so. Her bleached blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and her blue eyes avoided me. She crossed her legs, making sure her full length skirt covered her knees. I sat in my desk chair and faced her directly.

“You sounded pretty anxious on the phone, Ann. What brings you here today?” As I spoke those words, I was not prepared that late Friday afternoon to hear what she was about to say.

Ann began by telling me she still saw Dr. Edwards, her psychiatrist, occasionally and had weekly appointments with Dr. Harold Stephens, a psychologist, who sometimes worked with Dr. Edwards. “In fact,” she said, “I had an appointment with Dr. Stephens just yesterday; but Joe, I don’t feel he’s helping me.” Her voice sounded a note of desperation. “What do you mean that Dr. Stephens is not helping you?” “Well, for several weeks now, I’ve been telling him about how depressed I feel and that I think continually about committing suicide.” Then in a more agonizing tone she continued. “All he does is tell me to go

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