Monday, April 6, 2009

House Sweet House

Because I have spent the last 6 years putting out emotional fires with rational thought, I will do a very poor job in the next few paragraphs of conveying how deeply the show House touches me. I'm simply out of practice when it comes to feeling. (But that's not the subject for this blog, so we'll move on.) I would skip the entry altogether, but I think so highly of the show that I can't not mention it.

I've been watching House for a few years now. It started because I have a thing for a) hard truths cloaked in sarcasm delivered by fearless and credible people, and b) older attractive and intelligent men, especially if they exhibit the previous quality. (Definitely helps if they are right most of the time and play piano and guitar.) Dad, if you're reading, don't get weirded out on me -- I promise this isn't oedipal.

What kept me watching (in addition to the aforementioned qualities), is the subject matter. The topics of House may be much like any other medical drama -- life, death, meaning, etc. But no other medical drama has ever appealed to me, probably because most of them are driven by hope, while House is driven by cynicism. Now that speaks to me.

I wanted to write a blog earlier this year, when the episode titled Unfaithful aired in February. A priest had a vision of Jesus and got very sick and ended up as Gregory House's patient. The two men went back and forth about faith, both trying to prove a point and convince the other while still figuring out where they stood on the subject. I need to go back and watch it, because there was so much meaty dialogue. That was the first time I watched a tv episode and needed a week to work through the cloud/clarity it left in my brain. It was fantastic.

Tory went out to watch the game (basketball, right?) with a buddy tonight, so I got to watch House with him gone, which allows me to concentrate much more. Thank goodness, because I would have needed to be alone with this episode (Simple Explanation). One of the doctor's on House's team calls in because "his dog is sick", and two other doctors on the team go to check in on him -- finding him on the floor. Self inflicted gunshot wound to the head.

I'm assuming anyone who is reading knows why I would identify: boyfriend's suicide in 2003, brother's suicide in 2008. They are both events I still deal with and work through everyday.


If I were writing a paper, I would make sure of all my sources and then start giving you all sorts of statistics. Since this is just a blog, I don't have to do that. I'm not going to remember them all accurately, and I don't feel pressure to. But here's some information for those of you unfamiliar with the subject. Suicide is common. And it's not talked about for the most part. It's a sickness. If it hasn't directly or indirectly creeped into your sphere of influence, just wait -- it most likely will. If it creeps in close, a loved one, your world will be blown open and you will find yourself in the spiral of a huge question mark. If the strike isn't so close, it may be just enough of the evil to vaccinate you from the heartache. If it sucks the life out of your heart more than once in 5 years, call me and we'll have a drink.

People don't talk about suicide because there's no happy ending. There's never even a mediocre ending -- there just isn't an ending at all. Usually we never really know why someone does it (even if they leave a note), and mainstream media needs closure. Doesn't matter if it's the news or movies or tv or magazines -- no one wants to report an unknown. It doesn't sell.Most people don't have a decent understanding of the subject. I can't blame them too much. Why would you want to investigate something so melancholy? The church seems to have its stance on suicide -- they will talk about it because it is their duty to feign impathy, though judgment is hard to conceal. Most from the older generation won't acknowledge the subject. And then there is a vast sect of society that uses the repulsive term "selfish act" with a clear and severe disrespect of the deceased and their remaining confidants. I think these people must have very simple minds and simple hearts and just have never experienced the far reaching boundaries of a tragic and beautiful soul. I want to shake them -- close them in a room with a well written book on the subject and the ghosts of suicide victims until they understand, but I'll keep my mouth shut. Sometimes I kind of envy their simplicity.

House took the subject and ran like an Olympian, creating a beautiful dance between the subjects of guilt and love. Resigning, you can't feel that much guilt with out love. Gregory House returns to Kutner's apartment repeatedly on a quest to discover the explanation, questions his friends and his parents, scouring every remaining piece of his life for clues. Brings back memories. A colleague consoles, Kutner hid from everyone. You didn't get a chance to save him; no one did -- "chance" being the operative word that makes that quip right in every way. The show ends with a funeral, and a beautifully accurate portrayal of personal paths of grief. The lonely stoic. The empty, drained faces of the parents. The friend that avoids the subject until a moment alone when it hits and brings a blubbering flood.

To whomever is responsible for making this show the soul-wrenching meaty-meal that it is, I commend you. Thank you for tackling a taboo subject and for doing it so f***ing well. A well needed heart massage, and a message needing heard.

5 comments:

Jennifer said...

beth ann-
you are an amazing writer.
i can't empathize with you nor will i attempt to...but i would agree that it is misunderstood {in so many ways} by most. our pastor last weekend talked about the "unforgivable sin" and how people are under the misunderstanding that suicide is an unforgivable sin but that it really is not.
i've never seen "house" but i love medical dramas and sarcasm so it sounds like a good one.
miss you...
love, jenn

bethann said...

My sister, Emily, posted a reply to this on her facebook page:

***

I agree with you Beth. People who can only see selfishness when confronted with a suicide reveal themselves to be folks who at the very least haven't known darkness. I'm happy for them, and I don't wish despair on anyone. It seems though that it doesn't take very much darkness before your eyes are opened wide to how a path toward suicide could unfold in a person's life. So I don't know how so many people can be missing this. Have they really never encountered deep suffering and pain? How can so many people not imagine that it's possible to look around you one day and come to the conclusion that the only option left for you is to leave this world? You don't have to have ever considered suicide for yourself to at least imagine how someone who is not you could decide to do it.

Right after Sam died, one of my friends took Hunter aside and began talking nonstop of her opinions about what Sam did. She emphasized how selfish she thought it was, how she would never ever do anything like that. For one thing, she's got a daughter who depends on her. To abandon her daughter would be so selfish. For another thing she's got faith. I'm not sure what the implications were there exactly. But somehow it was unfathomable to her that someone who may believe in God or be a spiritual person could end up deciding to commit suicide.

[She went on to say many, many more inane judgments about me and my own grief path (for example, that anytime I am caught laughing it indicates that I am in a general state of denial, since how can a person ever laugh or smile again after a tragedy?) I won't go into all that here.]

She is just one of many people close to my family who blather on and on insensitively and at times nonsensically. I accept these people's opinions. Everybody has a right to take a stance on something, even on people they've never met.

My beef with them is not so much that they view each suicide as singularly selfish; it's that they open their mouths and voice this opinion to the families who are left here to deal with the grief.

How does that bear good fruit? If you take aside a mom to let her know that you think what her son did was selfish, how does that give her more comfort, or even more clarity?

This is the point where selfishness truly enters the picture. You've got a burning opinion about Sam's motives. You will sacrifice everything in the world (including the family's peace) to ensure that your opinion is heard by them. It doesn't matter how far it may set back the family in their healing process. You absolutely must cram your viewpoints into their ear canals, and the means will justify the end.

Well, go crazy with saying things that may be unpleasant for us to hear during other times in our lives. Sometimes we all need a good kick in the pants. So if there are chores left to do and we're playing nintendo, speak up with your opinions about laziness and hard work. I would still suggest it's none of your business, but go for it. Not everything that's good for us to hear is easy for us to hear.

But this isn't the time for your opinions. I can't think of a worse time. Ever ever ever ever.

When somebody near you is grieving, and all your tongue can reach for are words that bring the dark clouds instead of the sun, that push people deeper into the muck, that press the burden down harder on their shoulders instead of easing it, couldn't you stay quiet instead? Wouldn't it be better not only for our tired ears but also for your sloppy, flailing tongue if you sat this one out and rested?

It may be fundamentally a lack of compassion that prompts you to elbow into a family and with bad breath and an annoying manner drop your jeans and poop out your unaskedfor judgments on our heads.

This is a better idea: If you don't understand why someone would do something, consider just letting it be. It's not as hard as it sounds. Let it be.

I'm remembering a quote I read when I was in junior high: "There is always one more thing in every man's case about which we know nothing, that would bring us to our knees in an instant if we knew."

Isn't it possible that another human being may have experienced something that you have not experienced? Couldn't it be true that your path on this earth is not identical to Sam's? that he may have felt something you've never encountered?

Bludgeoning a grieving family about the heads with your beliefs is not as good of a plan as keeping to yourself. And it's for sure not as good of a plan as setting your beliefs aside and supporting the family with care and love.

"Love is the difficult realization that something other than oneself is real." --Iris Murdoch

Brian Landwehr said...

Very well written Beth. You are a very deep person, very introspective and very observant. I don't know if you like the band or not but there is a song by Everlast called "What it's like". I like the tune and it really hit me when I listened to the lyrics. So many people sit in judgement of others, not having a clue what that person has gone through or their perspective. I've known this for years (I have a few years on you), but the song illustrated it so well.

Thanks for your insight and courage. Your special and I'm proud to have you as a cousin. (I don't say that often!)

Brian

Anonymous said...

this is a really amazing book too.

Adam Baker said...

Hi Beth,
I saw your blog on your Facebook site, and after reading this post would be remiss if I didn't thank you for sharing this deeply soulful post. Very insightful and well thought.

Tout comprendre, c'est tout pardonner.

Best to you!