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Woman on the Bridge “Don't jump! It's not worth it!” It's a flirtation I've tossed out before when I've seen a pretty girl leaning over a bridge railing. Sometimes it's ignored, sometimes it's met with a laugh, but this time I was taken seriously. It happened one evening in January in 1983 when I was returning home from work and I was crossing the pedestrian bridge that goes over Macleod Trail to South Centre Mall. Back then the bridge railing was little more than waist-high. A good-looking woman, about 35, nattily dressed in a long winter coat, was staring at the traffic below. After joking about jumping, I didn't wait for a response and continued past her. Then she spoke, “What did you say?” I stopped and looked back. She had turned to look at me and she appeared surprised as if she wondered how I had read her mind. For a while we held eyes. I waited for a smile or some sign to indicate she wasn't serious, but none came. I don't know if she could take her life from such a low bridge even into traffic, but I saw the despair in her eyes and realized she must have been thinking of it. I had to get her off the bridge. Without saying a word, I strode over to her, took her arm and led her off the bridge. She didn't say anything, and she didn't resist. I didn't relax until we got off the bridge and onto the mall parking lot. I asked her what was wrong and her story tumbled out. She had just seen her doctor and learned that she had terminal liver cancer. She described her health problems in detail, more detail than I wanted to hear – like how she was passing blood when she used the bathroom. She didn't look sick but I believed her. She was noticeably distraught and spoke anxiously. I wanted to keep her moving and keep her talking, so I walked her around the parking lot. Night had fallen so it was dark and quiet. The parking lot by the bridge was empty. I let her ramble, hoping it would help her relax. It was cold so when I noticed her coat wasn't done up, we stopped so I could fasten it. She seemed too numb to care or to help herself and just stood there. I smelled alcohol on her breath and realized she had been drinking. We continued walking around. She told me about her illness and her concerns. I tried making jokes, jokes about suicide believe it or not. Sometimes she laughed but other times she cried. I felt terrible when she cried for I knew I had caused it, and I would hold her until she composed herself. Joking with a suicidal woman was a stupid idea, but I wasn't sure what to do. I led the disconsolate woman around the parking lot while I tried to figure out how I could help her. She continued to ramble and I lost track of time. I don't remember much of what she said, but she didn't mention a husband, boyfriend or even a friend that I could telephone. Eventually it came out that she had two children. Even given her state of mind, I was surprised she hadn't told me sooner, but it was an obvious lifeline. “Look,” I told her, “You have to stick around to take care of your kids. And you have to make sure they are provided for when you're gone.” That turned her right around. She stopped talking about dying and started talking about what she could do for her kids. Her despair gave way to a new resolve. It showed in her posture for she straightened up and now looked ahead instead of at the ground. Suddenly she wanted to phone her children and without waiting for me, she started striding towards the mall. I hurried to catch up to her. We found a public phone in the mall. When she fished out some coins from her wallet, I noticed it held several large bills. Apparently she was well off. She called and talked to someone briefly. After she hung up, I gave her my number and told her to phone me to let me know how she was doing, but by then she barely acknowledged me. I realized she had taken charge of herself and no longer needed me. She seemed to be caught up in her thoughts, likely absorbed in plans none of us would ever want to have to make, and in some state of mind I didn't understand, but I was certain she was now past harming herself. I can't recall what my parting words were, but whatever I said she didn't respond. When I last her, she was going through her purse and didn't look up or say anything. I felt drained and wanted to go home. I realized I had spent about an hour with the woman I met on the bridge. I never heard from her and for a long time afterwards, I wondered how she was doing. Maybe I should have taken her number so I could have checked on her. The encounter shook me up a bit. Never again did I joke about suicide. |