Last week I ventured out to Brighton Beach to see a former co-worker of mine. His name is Angelos Kapato, a shy young man, originally from Greece, who worked with me at the Bryant Park Grill. There was a significant reason I hadn’t seen Angelos in over ten months. Last December, you might remember an article in all the local New York City newspapers about a man who had jumped from his 9th story window and amazingly lived. It happened on the weekend of the Christmas blizzard of 2010. Thanks to Mayor Bloomberg’s poor handling of the major storm, the city’s trash pickup was halted for days, and would wind up being Angelo’s saving grace. Like an impossible scene in a movie, he landed in a huge pile of trash bags and was found alive on a very cold morning. The papers reported a depressed man who had tricked death and cheated all matters of fate. The story was told and never reported or spoke of again. Until today that is.
Suicide has been something that I’ve always been concerned with as I’ve seen it take the life of one of my brother’s. One of my closest friends, Joe Wachowski, ended his life four years ago and the questions of why still haunt me to this day. As most people do, we ask ourselves what we could have done to prevent this occurrence. He was one of the brightest people you could ever meet with a creative depth that was unimaginable. We started a band together, critiqued each other’s writings, and became as close as two people could get. What I didn’t know was Joe’s mental instability. While some people think it’s a selfish plan to take one’s life, it is more reasonable to take in the aspect of a disease in mind. Think of it as a cancer, and like cancer, it is a hard battle to overcome.
I arrived at the rehabilitation center to meet up with Angelos and take him to the beach for a few hours. He did end up living, but not without consequence. He is now paralyzed from the chest down, luckily still able to use his arms and speak normally. He stays here, surrounded by mostly elderly people, waiting for the chance to go back to his midtown apartment. First he has to be approved for Medicaid so that someone can pay for his 24-hour nurse that he is required to have to live on his own. The best part was how amazingly optimistic Angelos was and how lucky he felt to be still alive. Of course, nothing would ever be the same but it was, in retrospect, a new life for him
Angelos wanted to go visit the beach. It was understandable. Most days consisted of him waking up in this hospital and going through many exams throughout the day. His outside time consisted of smoking a cigarette in the courtyard, so he was excited to go the boardwalk that he had so many child hood memories at. Getting him there wasn’t as easy as mine or yours commute on a busy Monday morning. Angelos needs a wheelchair now, but luckily the buses of the city are capable of getting him around the town. It was very humbling experience for me. Every day we complain about not getting a seat or waiting for a train, but the patience it takes to get around as a disabled person is really why they say “Patience is a virtue.” It was also an eye-opener to realize how many of the other mildly disabled people took advantage of the situation, and how many of teenagers were so disrespectful to the less fortunate.
A bus ride later, and we had arrived at the streets surrounding Brighton Beach. Never have I pushed anyone around in a wheelchair. I journeyed down the street like a drunk driver, at one point almost throwing Angelos into traffic. We finally got to the boardwalk, the sand near our feet on a quiet afternoon at the beach. Like always, I didn’t hesitate to ask the important question. I’m not one tip-toe around the facts, and also, I understand that it’s best to just get it all out on the table. I was surprised however; at the answers I was given. Angelos didn’t mind the interrogation and I was glad to hear his honest response.
The one aspect that was never covered in the papers was the actual details of the story. Angelos checked himself into a hospital four days prior to the incident. He was having nervous breakdowns and wanted to consult a doctor. He had been very isolated and the reaction was causing panic attacks. A doctor gave him some pills, as they always do, and sent him home. The night of the incident he was having the same issue. He took the medicine and went to bed. The next moment he remembers was waking up in a hospital after a long induced coma. He had some suicidal thoughts before but never once attempted to take his life. What the doctor never told him was that the drugs he was taking were a very strong anti-depressant. They never told him what they should have. That if he was to start feeling ill again then he should go to the emergency room.
Whatever happened that night, no matter what caused it, will affect Angelo Kapatos for the rest of his life. He’s not bitter, and unlike most of us, he’s not out for vengeance. Of course, if it helps him, then he would like to figure out what made him do this to himself. As we headed back to him temporary home, the one thing he was really adamant about, was that he was really glad there was still some really good heavy metal on his iPod. He’s not complaining about the little points of life that we consistently embrace every day. He’s really just glad to have a second chance at life.
(REMEMBER: Suicide is like any other cancer. We need to fight it in the same way. While there a weekly march for all the forms of cancer, there is hardly that amount of mental awareness for suicide prevention. This is a sickness that can be prevented when we understand the causes. The medical field need to be more concerned with this epidemic, and needs to treat it very seriously. Especially remember this notion as Veteran’s Day approaches. Many soldiers coming back from war suffer from serious PTSD < Post Traumatic Stress Disorder> is killing more veterans than the war itself. For more information visit: asfp.com (The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention)
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