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According to the National Alliance on Mental Illness 75% of all people who die by suicide are male and although more women than men attempt suicide, men are nearly four times more likely to die by suicide.

Suicide is the second leading cause of death for people ages 10-34 and the fourth leading cause of death for people 35-54.

The overall suicide rate in the U.S. has increased by 31% since 2001 and 46% of people who die by suicide had a diagnosed mental health condition.

While half of individuals who die by suicide have a diagnosed mental health condition, research shows that 90% experienced symptoms.

NAMI.org goes on to report that In 2017, suicide was: the second leading cause of death for American Indian/ Alaska Natives between the ages of 1034, the second leading cause of death for African Americans, ages 15-24, the leading cause of death for Asian Americans, ages 15-24, the second leading cause of death for Hispanic people in the U.S., ages 15-34, American Indian/ Alaska Native adults die by suicide at a rate 20% higher than non-Hispanic white adults, lesbian, gay and bisexual youth are four times more likely to attempt suicide than straight youth, transgender people are 12 times more likely to attempt suicide than the general population and 10% of young adults say they experienced suicidal thoughts in the past year.

These numbers speak volumes, but they are more than numbers, they are people. People who may have had friends, family, children, jobs, people who are no longer with us.

Throughout the month of September, NAMI will be working to shine a light on the people we have lost, sharing their stories, as well as the stories of those who have battled with mental illness and continue to fight.

September is National Suicide Prevention Awareness Month—a time to share resources and stories in an effort to shed light on this highly taboo and stigmatized topic.

We use this month to reach out to those affected by suicide, raise awareness and connect individuals with suicidal ideation to treatment services. It is also important to ensure that individuals, friends and families have access to the resources they need to discuss suicide prevention.

According to NAMI, suicidal thoughts, much like mental health conditions, can affect anyone regardless of age, gender or background. In fact, suicide is often the result of an untreated mental health condition. Suicidal thoughts, although common, should not be considered normal and often indicate more serious issues.

Every year thousands of individuals die by suicide, leaving behind their friends and family members to navigate the tragedy of loss. In many cases, friends and families affected by a suicide loss, often called “suicide loss survivors”, are left in the dark. Too often the feelings of shame and stigma prevent them from talking openly.

Sept. 10 has been designated as World Suicide Prevention Day.

But this is a vital issue that is well worth being aware of and raising awareness for every day.

Perhaps the greatest show of support is knowing what resources are available to those who may need help.

Whether it is talking to someone or getting directed to resources for treatment, NAMI and other organizations will be putting these resources at the forefront.

If you or someone you know is in an emergency, call 911 immediately.

If you are in crisis or are experiencing difficult or suicidal thoughts, call the National Suicide Hotline at 1-800-273 TALK (8255).

If you’re uncomfortable talking on the phone, you can also text NAMI to 741-741 to be connected to a free, trained crisis counselor on the Crisis Text Line.

For more information visit NAMI.org.

It was one of those days. I sat at the kitchen counter, still in my ragged bathrobe, head under a towel over a bowl of hot water. I felt awful, but what could I do? I used the last two rapid tests to tell me that it was not COVID-19.

I was and am taking a bunch of pills for various maladies that limit what over-the-counter meds I can take, and this affliction, which I deduced to be a good, old fashioned sinus headache with body aches, needed to be attacked without the benefit or side effects of modern medicine.

I have this feeling that, at some point, all of those meds I’ve been prescribed will mix together and cause me lord knows what problems.

So, there I was and there I stayed, replacing the hot water as needed. It sort of worked. My poor sinuses and ears and cheeks and teeth!

Then I remembered Vicks, my mother’s panacea for all things related to sickness. Where did I put it?

Remembering that I had last used it on one of my grandsons, I rummaged through the bottom drawer in the bathroom cupboard to find the Vicks among the leftovers from taking care of small children. I had to weed my way through pacifiers, two rubber duckies, a plastic book to be read in the tub, small washcloths (neatly folded) and one of those baby nasal aspirators.

The jar looked old, but I reasoned the contents didn’t get old. I slathered my neck and the area under my nose with the stuff and headed to the basement where I remembered I had stored the vaporizer. This more “natural” treatment would be a full court press. I set up the vaporizer next to the only chair in the house with arms so that I could get up and down with less problems.

I then went into the kitchen, trailing menthol fumes, to make a hot toddy, but not just any hot toddy. I was aiming for a super-hot toddy.

Back to rummaging, now through my tea collection, I looked for a Chinese cold remedy tea that contained ginger, turmeric and honey. I chose a giant cup that you serve soup in and made a hot toddy that included the Chinese tea, black tea courtesy of Red Rose, honey from Richard Link apiaries and a healthy splash of spirits from Nojaim’s liquors (I try to shop locally.)

With the addition of the portable phone, the remote for the TV and a box of tissues, I was in for the duration.

So, there I sat, head pounding, vaporizer vaporizing, Vicks creating a perfume of childhood and the power of my super-hot toddy softening the tension of illness. I turned on the TV, flipped to my Roku and watched something about viruses, coming to the conclusion that I had them all.

Then the doorbell rang.

Oh, great.

Out of the chair, past the vaporizer and a bit unsteady courtesy of my liquid medication, I headed for the side door.

It was the guy who reads the gas meter. The look on his face was, how can I put this? Indescribable.

“I’m sick,” I said.

He mumbled something about knowing where the meter was as he showed me his ID and headed down the cellar stairs to the meter. I waited at the door until he returned. He left without looking at me, ostensibly absorbed with some device he held in his hand while telling me to “feel better.”

As I headed back to my chair, I passed the mirror in the kitchen.

Oh, my! There, as clear as day, was this harridan, hair sticking up in all directions, eyes a weepy red, with mascara (I had started the day with hopes that some makeup would help) running down her flushed face.

The mirror didn’t emphasize the aura of Vicks, but the scent was so strong, it encouraged the dripping evacuation of my nasal cavities. Adding to this image, my robe had picked up some of the dribbles of the turmeric laced tea, making it look like I had been shot with yellow bullets.

Back in my chair with my stream of steam and hot toddy, I ruminated on the vision that I presented to my visitor.

“It was just the meter reader guy. Not a problem,” I told myself. After all, he doesn’t live around here and he didn’t take a picture. “Come on”, I reasoned, “who would care about how some old lady looked?”

But, nonetheless, it bothered me. I do have some pride. Do you think the guy would believe it if I told him that my sister let him in today when he came the next time?

To win, iTTAkESEvERyThing

From the 12th Man – or simply the “12” in Seattle – the boos cascaded down on Russell Wilson before, during and after the Denver Broncos’ Monday-night loss to the Seahawks.

This prompted an ongoing discussion about the proper way fans should act toward someone who was in their midst for a long while, finding a great amount of success, before heading somewhere else.

To some, it was offensive, a mark of ingratitude. To others, it was just the home team hissing at the opposition. No more, no less.

But the roots of it reflect what’s turned into a common problem with modern football coverage – namely, the near-total ignorance of, or amnesia to, the time-honored formula for successful teams.

Many different Seahawks from their Super Bowl teams of nearly a decade ago, including Marshawn Lynch and Richard Sherman, were at this game, but they weren’t cheering for their former quarterback, now dressed in Denver colors.

Numerous stories that have emerged in recent years talk of how both Pete Carroll and those other Seahawks players grew to resent the accolades and attention heaped upon Wilson, believing that their role in the team’s success was minimized or erased.

They have a point. Seattle’s lone Super Bowl champion had a dominant, ferocious defense, the “Legion of Boom”, and a powerful ground game personified by Lynch. Wilson did a lot, for sure, but he was far from alone. Yet if you enter any football-related discussion circa 2022, it’s almost impossible to determine if anyone else had anything to do with a team’s success or failure if they weren’t taking snaps.

Every single week leading up to games, they’re portrayed as showdowns between two people who are never on the field at the same time during a meaningful snap of the ball.

Then on Sunday (or Thursday night or Monday night), we capture their arrivals, their runs out of the tunnel, their warm-ups, the time they run out on the field, their reactions to plays, and approximately 2,000 sideline shots when they aren’t doing anything meaningful. Oh yeah, and most of the analysts are former quarterbacks.

If the score is 38-14, 21-17 or even 10-7, the game story is always centered in their context. If any last-minute scoring drive is put together, the rest of the team, already vacant, disappears further from any kind of credit.

No wonder their egos get boosted. If you were told, from sunup to sundown, just how important and special and gifted and great you were, would you stay humble?

Now put yourself in the shoes of the other guys – say, those Patriots players who were with Tom Brady, or those Giants, Colts and Broncos teams that had the Manning brothers, or anyone else who happened to win a title with a well-known QB as part of the mix.

You know how hard you worked, how much you sacrificed,

to achieve your lifelong goal of a Random championship ring, only to get told that, no, you weren’t even Thoughts there. He did it all, the almighty Phil Blackwell man with the golden arm. Maybe it’s past time for all of us, as intelligent fans, to remember that a championship team is just that – a team, with players, coaches, front office, literally hundreds of people making crucial contributions. To re-brand their collective efforts as the labor of any individual insults the whole. Maybe that makes for great TV drama, giving the audience an easy hero and villain, but it misleads us and gives a false impression about exactly what comprises a winning effort. This is important to remember as the Buffalo Bills set out on what could be a long-awaited championship push. Already the narrative is out there about the GREAT AND MIGHTY JOSH ALLEN and all of his amazing attributes. Well, all of those traits were there a season ago, and the Bills didn’t win it all because it hadn’t quite figured out all the other things. Now Von Miller shows up, the pass rush looks ferocious, soon Tre White will be back in the secondary and something amazing could happen. And if it does, everyone in that organization will know how much they helped make it happen. Even if we forget.

Phil Blackwell is sports editor at Eagle News. He can be reached at pblackwell@ eaglenewsonline.com.

Mixed results from home remedies

Ramblings from the empty nest Ann Ferro

Ann Ferro is a mother, a grandmother and a retired social studies teacher. While still figuring out what she wants to be when she grows up, she lives in Marcellus with lots of books, a spouse and a large orange cat.

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