My friend realized that he was in trouble. Probably not. But if Dave never thought he needed help, how could he be helped?
Mental illness is devastating. I think most people understand that. However, there is a challenge here. What if someone needs help but doesn't think they need it? What if they aren't even aware that they have a problem?
On the night of May 2, 2022, I visited two police officers from the Ottawa Police Department. They came to tell me that my oldest and beloved friend, David Thomas Huhei, was found dead in his house. He had been dead for about three months for quite some time. The cause of death is not yet known, but given that police do not suspect cheating, it could somehow be declared a "natural death." It's very difficult to write.
Dave and I first met at the age of eight. We survived our childhood and built friendships that deepened as we grew up. His friendship meant the world to me. I was a lonely and isolated shy kid. Dave was also shy, connecting comics, role-playing games, not just professional wrestling, but pop culture, and life in general as he got older.
Dave's shyness wasn't unjust. His parents slowed his life considerably. When Dave was born, his dad was about 50 years old. Dave's dad, David Edmund Huhei, and his mom, Mary Ancofran, eventually had a marriage problem and their marriage was dissolved. His parents were also legally blind. Dave's dad was blind since he was born, and at the age of 11, his mom lost her eyesight.
Dave's momdied in 2004then in 2008dad diedhis dad's age, this death is not really a surprise It was, but Dave looked "ok" after his mom's death, but I think he wasn't ready for his dad's death. Dave was clearly hurt, but he couldn't easily talk about the hurt.
In his honor, Dave turned to his doctor who introduced him to a psychiatrist for help. Dave has tried prescription antidepressants to deal with them, but the problem with these drugs is that they often take a long time to be "correct." In the case of Dave, the drug emotionally made him a "flat line." He said it this way: not only sad things, but all his emotions were avoided. Not sad and full of loss, but equally missing happiness and joy. There was nothing. As a result, Dave gave up the drug. He never tried anything else.
When his father's property is settled, he quits his job, moves to his father's house, and makes the most of his inheritance. did. The house became his prison in an old and quiet neighborhood.
Over time, it became impossible to reach him. I left a phone message and sent him an email that wasn't returned. He tried sending a postcard or letter with a stamped envelope to him, but it wasn't returned.
Eventually I desperately contacted the police for wellness. Arranged. check. He was told that he needed to visit him directly before the police could intervene. I still vividly remember that it was about a 15-minute walk to his house after getting off the bus. As I approached, I saw a lot of emails in my mailbox. I had a lump in my throat, so I approached the door and started beating. After a while, I heard a fuss inside ... and Dave opened the door.
I cried with almost peace of mind. He was fine, but he was also embarrassed and kindly dismissed my concerns. phone. He had a problem with the telephone company. Email. He gave up because there was too much spam. He is a self-addressed stamp postcard and letter. I never answered them. What was the big deal?
It's hard to say in words how shocking this was. I hope my anguish of whether he is alive or dead will have an impact. Maybe things will get better. But no, my little intervention made no difference. He continued to live alone in the corrupt house on the quiet street.
Dave realized he was in trouble. He does not know. Probably not. If Dave never thought he needed help, how could he help him? But how can someone get well if no help is provided?
At the end of the day, all I could do was be there for him. There were no questions as to whether he decided to contact and when to contact. He never did. And now, of course, it's too late.
I'm glad I told him I love him many times.
One of the last times I met him, he said it back.
Eric Julian, pseudonym "von Alan", is an Ottawa-based writer, artist and graphic novelist. His website is to receive daily headline news from Ottawa Citizen, a division of Postmedia Network Inc.https://www.vonallan.com.にあります：von@vonallan.comで彼に連絡してください。
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