Death by Misadventure, by Mark A. Greene

                                                            

Death by Misadventure

“Missing UGA Student, Rebecca Greene, Found Dead In Creek” became breaking news in November of 2013. Since that time many have wondered and have asked just what did happen to Rebecca? As her father, I now wish to fully release the complete story of what brought Rebecca to such a tragic death.
Rebecca was a determined, independent, vivacious 22 year old young woman, who passionately took life by the horns. All who knew her can testify to her love for people and for living life to its fullest. But in the midst of all this, she had her ups and downs with anxiety and depression. In an effort to deal with this depression, she turned to healthcare professionals, who ended up putting her on various Black Box anti-depressants.
“Black Box” is a Food and Drug Administration term applied to specific prescription drugs that the FDA strongly warns may cause, especially for those under the age of 24, suicidal thoughts and or suicidal behavior. The FDA also warns that a person on these drugs must be closely monitored due to this suicidal warning and the dangerous side effects these drugs may induce.
At this point, you may ask why Rebecca’s healthcare professionals would prescribe and keep her on drugs so potentially detrimental to her? For that matter, why did they not attempt to wean her off of these drugs, since it is reported that the user can develop a dependence on them? Once again, why did they not prescribe anti-depressants not on the FDA Black Box warning list for suicidal behavior?
As Rebecca’s father, I did not know she was on these drugs, nor how dangerous they were until after her death. All of us are encouraged to trust the healthcare community. All of us are assured this community will not do anything to put us in harm’s way. So from the start, Rebecca gave them her trust, and I cannot help but say, that trust led her to a tragic end. At this point, I am not saying any of Rebecca’s healthcare providers deliberately put her in harm’s way, but with all the warnings surrounding the dangers of Black Box drugs, could they not have chosen to put her on a different medical path?
Now, let’s move to the time of Rebecca’s death. In late July of 2013, she saw a healthcare provider for the last time in Brunswick, GA, and then headed back to college at UGA, where she was taking daily doses of Wellbutrin and Prozac. Both are listed on the FDA Black Box warning list as drugs that have been known to induce suicidal behavior. At some point in the fall semester, it seems that some of the side effects associated with these drugs began to quickly increase. At the same time, the selective serotonin re-uptake inhibitors, SSRI for short, apparently took a negative turn and began to rewire her mind to eventually accept and act on the impulse to commit suicide. SSRI drugs alter the levels of a mood enhancing chemical called serotonin. But what it comes down to is that there is something about these drugs that can “alter” a person’s thinking to the point that they willingly, and in Rebecca’s case, not only willingly, but calmly commit suicide. Let’s move on.

On the weekend of November 16 and 17, Rebecca attended her Phi Sigma Pi National Honor Fraternity retreat. Virtually everyone present shared that Rebecca was a joy to be around and was in a pleasant frame of mind. Early on the morning of November 18, before heading off to campus, Rebecca, for the last time, talked with her housemate, Allie, who said Rebecca was her usual self. A few hours later, she spoke with one of her professors after class. He later stated that she did not seem stressed at all; he was in complete shock and disbelief over her death. About 5pm, November 18, Rebecca finished studying at a UGA library, texting her boyfriend to come pick her up; he text back that he would. Then several minutes later, she returned a text saying, “Actually, you know what, I guess I’ll just ride the bus because I kind of feel like going for a walk anyways. “ She even text a smiley face at the end.
About 5:15pm, she googled on her laptop, “the fastest way to overdose.” With that information, she rode the bus to a store, just a 10 minute walk from her house. She entered the store, and at 5:48pm bought several sleep aids. She made the short walk to her house, and for whatever reason, in her altered mental state, put her backpack under her housemate’s car. She hopped on her bike, and within minutes arrived at a nearby creek. At the creek, who knows what was going through her mind, a mind fully taken over by the suicidal thoughts induced by the Black Box drugs. She attempted to take all 80 of the soft-gel sleep aids, and then washed them down with a 12 ounce bottle of the liquid sleep aid Diphenhyrdamine. Eventually, becoming extremely drowsy, she made her way into the shallow creek, sat down, leaned back into the water, apparently crossing her arms over her chest, and let herself die. She lay in the creek all night and was found the next morning by a law enforcement officer. Her face was out of the water, and her eyes were open. She did not drown. Her body, being immersed in cold running water, caused her to die of hypothermia, but she was lured to the creek and murdered by these powerful Black Box anti-depressants. These drugs convinced her that ending her life was a good thing to do. Rebecca is not alone. Thousands of people die each year due to the tragic side effects of Black Box drugs. A partial list of SSRI suicidal deaths can be found on the website www.ssristories.com. Go to that site and click Archives, and then click number 11. It speaks for itself.
At this point I wish to inject 2 quotes: the first is from the Suicide Zone, found on www.rxisk.org. “It is important to distinguish between suicide and death by misadventure. Suicide is the deliberate termination of one’s own existence while in one’s right mind. Taking one’s own life under the influence of drugs is death by misadventure, not suicide. This distinction has huge legal, financial, insurance, and religious implications, as well as being of great importance to family and friends.” The second quote is from Dr. David Healy, an internationally respected psychiatrist, author, and Professor of Psychiatry in Wales. He is an outspoken critic of the types of drugs my daughter was prescribed. He states, “In a series of lectures, I have raised the question as to how long it might be before doctors would be found guilty for a suicide or homicide linked to an antidepressant, given that we have known that these drugs can cause suicide or homicide for over 50 years.”

To conclude: if you are on a drug that is on the FDA Black Box warning list, get off of it before it is too late, especially if you are under the age of 24. You have no guarantee that you will not become one of its’ victims of suicide. And beware; you cannot abruptly stop taking these drugs. You must come off slowly, under medical supervision. If you are a doctor, would you prescribe a drug on the FDA Black Box warning list for suicidal behavior to your son or daughter? Would you be willing to take the chance that your child would not end their life as my daughter did? Does the Hippocratic Oath no longer hold any value in our modern society?
Perhaps the knowledge this letter reveals will prevent someone else from a tragic death by these drugs. This would cause me, as Rebecca’s father, to have quiet solace, knowing that some good came out of Rebecca’s murder. Thank-you for your time. 

God Bless, 

Mark Greene, 

father of Rebecca Greene

November, 2014

*UPDATE*

 My father had started a petition on change.org to "Reduce Black Box anti-depressant suicide of young people through better education, drug control, and accountability of the medical community." If you have been touched by Rebecca's story, please consider clicking the underlined text and adding your name to those demanding greater accountability for the Black Box Anti-depressants.

The Waiting Place

Dearest L__,

  Recently, I had a friend ask if I has solved any of the world's crises yet. Apparently, I am one to do something. While flattered by the thought, the more I think on it, the less I am convinced of its accuracy. If I were one to "do something", wouldn't I have already done it by now? Or at least made some good headway in the general direction? Now, I know you might argue that, if nothing else, I've moved to Haiti, and moving to Haiti might be considered "doing something". More likely you wouldn't, because even though it Sounds like it's something, we both know that location does not equal accomplishment.
 Abraham had to leave his extended family and travel off into unknown lands to father a nation, but George Bailey stayed home and changed the makeup of his small town.
 Granted, one is history we often mistake as story, and the other is a well-known Christmas movie, but there's space for both to be valid in this big-little ol' world.
 My point being, it's not about being in a particular place, but being particular about the place you are in. Right? Apparently I am still hung up on the idea of Waiting, so please be patient as I take the looongest possible time to process this...
 Dr. Seuss's well-known "Oh, the Places You'll Go!" speaks of "The Waiting Place"

...for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go
or a but to come, or a place to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the now to snow
or waiting around for a Yes or a No
Everyone is just waiting.

I think often I confuse the Waiting Place with the Waiting Place. The first is the one Dr. Seuss speaks of, or what they call The Doldrums. It's remaining in one place, but it's stagnate. A period of inactivity and little improvement.
As opposed to The Waiting Place, where one is called to remain, rejuvenate, to increase. This waiting place reminds me more of a seed than anything. That time between the planting and the push through the earth and into the sun. Nothing is happening, the ground is silent, but underneath there is a slow gathering of resources, of strengthening. I am glad seeds don't have a consciousness - well, I saw Fern Gully, I really Hope they don't have consciousness - because I cannot imagine how frustrating that would be, laying there beneath the cool soil, knowing you were meant for daylight, whatever daylight is.
What would that be like? To feel resources beginning to pool within you, but not knowing for sure if they are ever going to be put to use. Do you move before you are ready, pushing up before you have the nutrients you need, afraid to stay still any longer? Or do you give up, assume there is nothing above and nothing more and remain dormant, telling yourself the move wouldn't cost so much and you'll be brought to the surface when it's time?
Actually, I think I Can imagine it, I am experiencing it right now. And of course it's not just me, there are so many courses and books and seminars and pep-talks about achieving one's fullest potential and finding the color of your parachute and using your strengths and developing effective strategies for life. And I cannot begin to imagine the number of front porch talks that have been had about this subject. Life mimics nature and we are all asked to bloom where we are planted. I think one of the hardest parts about it is how easy it is to confuse the Waiting Place with the Waiting Place. And how often we have to remind ourselves to not just wait, but to wait Well.  Or it is for me anyway.

One of these days I will tell you about the happenings of Haiti, because that's probably what you want to hear about anyway. Until then, please pray I will keep the difference between waiting and Waiting before me, and I won't get caught waiting while I could be Waiting.

 Much love and affection,
   R___

Wait and Be... Do you think He really means it?

Dear L.,

I really would like to have a nice long chat. My mind keeps tripping along the same garden path in hopes of bumping into yours and spending an afternoon weaving together the daisy chains of our mutual fancies. And of course by "garden path" I really mean a wish to clamber up the stairs to your room-with-the-couch and throw my feet up for several hours while we sip our respective tea and Dr. Pepper. And I probably wouldn't say no to some Oreos.

But the couch is still a few months off at best, so instead I'll send you what I'm mulling over this morning. It's funny, because my devotion in "God Calling" was all about Dwelling in the Spirit.
"Take time for prayer. Take more time to be alone with Me...Seek sometimes not even to hear Me. Seek a silence of spirit-understanding with Me. Be not afraid. All is well. Dwell much on what I did, as well as what I said."

Then I saw a message from my-friend-sent-by-God-to-pray-for-me in Haiti before I found out about the Terrible-Awful. She asked how I was and I wrote her the thoughts below. It wasn't even until I sat to write this to you that I even connected to two. I should add (hopefully) gaining observational skills to my time of learning patience...

I am learning patience in my impatience. It's easy to Move to Haiti with the word to WAIT and BE. It's hard to live in Haiti with the word to WAIT and BE. Or perhaps WAIT and BE would be hard anywhere, but here there are less distractions to keep me from the task of simply BEing.
I am able to trust God with my Life, but my Time seems to be a hard thing to give over to Him. I want to Do things, to be my idea of "productive" - a very American interpretation I am sure.
Part of me sees the Goodness of this Quiet Time - - getting to know my neighbors each day when we gather around the well to pump water - - getting speak with Judges and Lawyers and Secretaries and Teachers and Business Owners as I help out with my brother's English School - - getting to be there when someone is having a hard day and needs someone to sit and Be with them - - getting so much time to slowly unfold and process the grief I carry from the Terrible-Awful of losing my sister and my grandmother - - getting several hours each morning in the Word and in Worship and in a Quiet Place
So much Getting. So much being Given.
I spell it out and feel ashamed of how impatient I am, but it would be a lie to deny how Useless and Ineffective I sometimes find myself.
God laid it upon my heart to Sit and Wait with Him, this I Know to be true. I also know it is probably a time of preparation for coming movement. A Vital time to hone my weapons and allow myself to be readied. It's just hard on the human aspects of me to do this while I see everyone around me charging through their day, checking tasks off lists and having tangible results for their efforts.

Be Still and Know.
Wait and Be.

- - It was hard for Abraham and Sarah to continue to believe the promise of nations while they watched themselves move past the age of parenthood. Sarah attempted to "aid" God's timing, and created grief where only blessing was meant.
- - Joseph had to wait most of his life to see the fulfillment of God's promise, and he didn't even try to meddle with the timing.
- - It was hard for Martha as she busied herself with preparations. She asked for Jesus to send Mary to help her, but he told her Mary made the correct choice.
God is such a relational God, such an intimate God. He didn't just Speak us into existence, He formed Adam from the dust of the earth. He held the raw, unformed lump of ground and gently kneaded into into place. He fashioned arms and legs, made impressions for eyes and ears, carved out a chin, and created a mouth to intake the very breath of His Life. No wonder our Universal Language is Song. Are we surprised when the Holy Moments bring forth a Dialect of Poetic Reverence? What else would you have done with lips Kissed by the Divine?
He could have jerked us into existence with a Word, but instead He held us in His hands and worked our hearts through the shape of His fingers. God is a God of reckless abandon when it comes to His love for us, but He is a God of gracious patience and the willingness to wait for His bride as she slowly matures throughout the slow trickle of time. Granted, God knows time in way we cannot possibly understand, at least those still living, whom C.S. Lewis calls "those who have not yet been unmasked." And yet the point is He Waits. He is content to Be with us in our weakness, in our smallness, in our inability to move. And perhaps this is the point, the reason why He asks us to Wait. Because in all honesty, it is never really us who are obliged to Wait in the first place. God is a God of all times, He doesn't Need to Wait, He simply IS. Our attempt to Be Still and Wait upon the Lord is a little ridiculous - you can't really Wait on a being who Always IS. He waits for Us. He stills and distills Himself into the single moment that is our lives in order to Be With Us. He already exists where He has planned for us to be, He simply waits for our consciousness to catch up.

L., pray for me to remain steadfast in my desire to be Still and Wait, and for Grace that my Spirit will recognize the gift it is to remain, to dwell, to Be in Papa's Presence. In this moment I am at rest, but there is no mistaking how Human these bones are, and how easily I forget.
Love Always,
- R

but those who wait (who hope) in the Lord
    will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
    they will run and not grow weary,
    they will walk and not be faint.

a time for everything

Last night, I was told I needed to give myself the space to Grieve.

I had to stop, suck breath through my teeth and turn aside; I don’t really know this woman, and she doesn’t really know me. But her word wouldn’t leave; it hung between us, scraping at my lips, burning with the bitter sting of salt.

The Space to Grieve.

I’ve never wanted to be the one who runs in the face of a timely word; I’d rather the increase of pride in the face of my strength, rather than the cost of reckoning.  

“You need to meet your grief, to set aside deliberate time to meet with it. People often think of grief in negative terms, as something bad. But it is healthy, necessary even. Grief allows you the time to mourn a time in your life, recognize it as something significant, and acknowledge the sense of loss. People associate grief with tears and sorrow, neither of which are “bad”. And sometimes tears are involved, salt Is cleansing. But allowing yourself the Space, setting a time to meet with your Lord and open up those emotions, it’s necessary. But, could you tell me why you reacted to hearing “grief” like that?”

Three days ago I drove Chris up to Cochran, Georgia.  Honestly, I didn’t think it would be that much of a deal. I’d seen Tia and Julie, spent days with both of them. We’d spoken of Haiti, of life there, of our friends, of our children. Surely, surely if I am able to move through those times without sadness, surely I will see the migration through without sorrow.

Only the lump in my throat said otherwise as we pulled into the driveway. Only the blood in my ears said otherwise when I was introduced to Isaac. Only the heaviness grew so thick that ten minutes later I had to leave, that putting my car in reverse broke the dam between myself and the torrents.

 What is this, this Greene, this Western, this Human idea that strength is proven through stoicism? What is this concept that emotions betray only weakness?

Last night, Arthur Burt, a man who will boast a century on this fifth of May, spoke of emotion.

“God gave us emotions to tell the truth…”

This man who has seen every face of God revealed since 1912 believes that emotion is bestowed upon us, by God, in order to speak the truth.

The truth is I am unsure of what it is I must grieve. The journey towards truthful “feeling” and “emotion”, which I began on the back of a moto in the streets of Jubilee, this journey has been the most tiring walk of my life. And I have only begun. And I am still not quite certain what my journey towards living truth means.

But, between moments I still find unacknowledged emotion. Small spaces stored away for “late” that I don’t understand, so I find myself hurriedly breathe again in order to avoid these things which I only notice from the corner of my eye.

Arthur Burt’s wisdom was in two parts. “God gave us emotions to tell the truth,” he said. Yet he followed with, “but we allow emotions to dictate the truth.”

“God gave us emotions to tell the truth, but we allow emotions to dictate the truth.”

The truth is I must grieve. The change, the loss, the separation, the step into something new; whatever it is in my life, I must grieve.

-          To allow the emotion to dictate the truth would be to settle into my grief; to wear my sorrow like a badge or a cape or a crown or a blanket.

-          To allow the emotion to dictate the truth would be to skirt my grief; to ignore it, diminish it, to continuously put it off for another time, to call it another name and refuse to succumb to its existence.

The woman who told me to grieve reached out and touched my arm, humanity’s unconscious gesture towards connection. “Grief ushers us from one space in life to the next. Without it we can get stuck in the interim. You don’t always have to be strong.”

 God gave us emotions to tell the truth, but we allow emotions to dictate the truth.

Ecclesiastes 3:4

a time to weep and a time to laugh; a time to grieve and a time to dance.

Spring Break (and why I am not going to Haiti)

Twelve days.

Spring break is moments away. Or less than two weeks anyway. And then I will be back in Brunswick for a week, seeing friends and family.

Part of me is really excited about this. I haven't been back since August, not really. I spent three weeks there this December, but most of it was curled up on a bed crying, because my heart could not handle being in two countries at once. 

So it will be good to go back and see everyone. But I can't quite say that it will be good to be home.

Because I don't really know where 'home' is anymore, not if home is where the heart is.

I've been struggling with that for a while now actually, not understanding this 'home-thing'. I'm not failing out of school, but it is very, very hard to be here. Last year was hard too, being in a new environment, having such a dark winter (I've got S.A.D if you didn't know) dealing with homesickness. This year is about the same, but with good friends around to support me. If I am strong enough to show my weakness that is.

And I have a whole new brand of homesickness to contend with. Because Haiti became my home. And not just a home that counts as a place to live, but a place where I FIT. 

MY tasks and MY responsibilities and the things that I did that made life easier for everyone else. Things that made me part of a team, a community, a family. 

photo by Jim Warren

It felt so right and so good and so safe; I was living smack dab in the middle of my Father's hand and the next step was simple; do the next good thing. And no, you don't need to tell me that I am still in the middle of my Dad's hand. I know that. And I know that I am supposed to trust. And that I will have to learn to live with this heartache, because Haiti is not the only country that will claim a part of my heart. And I know that it gets easier with time. You don't have to tell me because it's the first thing that I tell myself every morning; God Loves you kiddo, and everything that that entails...

I don't want to give the wrong impression either, there were plenty of days that I wanted out. There were plenty of moments that all I could think about was getting on a plane and getting back to the United States and Never Looking Back. 

Let's skip to tonight. Right now. Where my heart is at.

I can't go back to Haiti for spring break. Not because I don't have enough money for school right now, because I don't. But it's not about the money. Because what  I needed for last semester was there almost before I arrived in the country. No, finances are scary sometimes, but only long enough for me to remember how I will always be taken care of.

I can't go back to Haiti for spring break because God knows I can't handle it.

I would get off that plane and Never Come Back.

maybe it's the wind howling outside of my window. Maybe it's the expected senioritis. Perhaps it's the refusal for me to let go of my own personal grief from leaving. Maybe I am not really good with transitions. Maybe I just need a hug.

It could be a host of reasons, but whatever the breakdown is, tonight it is hard for me to Be.