Depression is a bitch

“She was depressed and suicidal. She called from a disconnected cell phone and refused to give me her location. I never stopped trying to to get a ping on her but it was an apartment complex and there wasn’t much I could do for that.

“She refused to let me send anyone to her, refused to talk to EMS, suicide hotlines or supervisors. I answered the phone so I was the only one she would talk to.

“We talked for a really long time, not just relative to my normal calls of a couple minutes, I mean around two hours of my life was spent trying to talk Diana out of it.

“She ingested a large quantity of narcotics and alcohol. I remember her telling me her husband’s name was David and they were recently divorced. She had the narcotics for pain because she was involved in an auto accident not too long before all of this. She was unable to work, in extreme pain, and considering the recent divorce it’s easy to see why she felt the way she did. Her youngest son had just moved away from home as well. I felt really bad for her.”

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