For a brief period of time, Michael was our only child remaining at home and would grab breakfast before dashing off to work. He would return for supper or would phone to say that he was going somewhere with his friends. We were happy to have him because we missed the times before the children were off at university studying.
After some months Michael asked if he could go and stay in our other property nearby, although he would still like to have supper with us and visit on weekends. He discussed all this with Phyllis, and she told me of this agreement. Increasingly, the two of them who became very close, could be seen sitting together near the pool in deep discussion.
Then Michael told us that he was going to America for an extended holiday. He seemed to have made all the arrangements and would be away for about three weeks. I found this arrangement a bit sudden and was surprised that he had not discussed it with me at all. I did not know where in the US he would be going. He said he was hiring a car and would get used to the left-hand side steering and driving.
On his return we enjoyed all the pictures he had taken and various mementos. He told us that he had also visited Hollywood. He brought gifts and pictures and seem to have enjoyed his trip. He told how he got tired on one leg of the long journey and one night stopped to rest only to be woken by a highway patrolman, who then questioned him about his journey.
Back home, life went on as usual and he seemed to be doing well at his job at Southern Life and studying for actuarial exams. He and his friend Lars and some other mates decided to conquer Mount Kilimanjaro, Africa’s highest peak. Afterwards, he said that he enjoyed the experience but suffered from altitude sickness to some degree.
Sometime later Phyllis told me that they had a talk and that he was feeling depressed and I should phone Nikki and Colin and ask them to find out what is wrong with Michael. I told her that both said that he is not going to reveal anything to them. Phyllis persuaded him to see a medical doctor who diagnosed a possible stomach ulcer and arranged an appointment with a specialist.
I took him to the Constantia Berg Medical Clinic and returned in the afternoon to fetch him as arranged. As we were leaving Michael walked out of the building heading straight to the car without picking up his results. I called him back and wanted to know if he did not want to know the outcome of the tests. He did not seem to care about the results and just shrugged his shoulders.
He called Nikki and Geoff late January 1991 while he was on a business trip to Johannesburg. Nikki invited him to join them for dinner with a group of friends. It was Chinese New Year, and they were celebrating with a Chinese friend in Joburg’s Chinatown district. Nikki noticed that Michael kept to himself, and she felt a little annoyed with him as he made no attempt to talk to any of the other people, even when they deliberately tried to engage him in conversation. The next day he called Nikki and asked for the name of her doctor. Nikki asked him what was wrong and, but he didn’t share any details. Nikki felt that he was not himself but thought it was likely a phase
Walking past his bedroom once, when he was staying with us, I saw him staring into his mirror and he seemed annoyed that I observed him. Then one evening he came to me and said that he was having an op on his nose at a hospital in Observatory, and would I fetch him from hospital? We could not see anything wrong with his nose but surmised that any comments or input from us would not be appreciated.
Passing Michael’s place at No 4 one evening, we noticed that the lights were on and decided to pay him a visit. He admitted that he had not eaten, so we took him to Fish Hoek for a meal. During our conversation with him we learnt that he spent a lot of time at the house because his firm allowed him to stay at home on days when he had been ahead of the others in completing his tasks. He found it easier to cope with the work according to him. He also could work late into the night and sleep late into the morning.
One rainy evening, my phone rang and it was Michael who had spun his BMW a short distance from Claremont. He told me that a rescue service had the car on tow and could I come fetch him. I rushed out as quickly as I could in the rain. I found him uninjured but wet and we arranged for his car to be taken for safe keeping and then to a panel beater because the only damage was to the rear of the car.
He admitted to speeding and decided to have all scratches and imperfections to be resprayed which he learnt would take a few weeks to do. Michael seemed pleased about this. In the meantime, he borrowed our spare car – a Ford Sierra. About three weeks later I asked him how the repairs were progressing. “I don’t know.” Was his flippant reply. That shocked me. Quietly I contacted his work to find out that he was well liked and enjoyed his setting them tasks to decipher that they knew only Michael could do.
Phyllis had decided to replace the hedge in front of No 4 with a brick wall. The work had progressed well and one morning when he had joined us for breakfast, I asked him if they had finished the gate they were working on. “I don’t know.” Was his reply. I was astounded, “But you passed through the opening this morning – are you sure you did not look at the wall?” “No!” he said quite abruptly and left.
A few weeks later, after returning from shopping, Phyllis asked me to take her to a nursery because she wanted to plant some flowers for Michael’s garden now that the wall was built. She chose some flowers and we decided to go to no 4 and see where she could plant them.
Upon entering the property as I drove up the incline, I noticed a notice stuck to the front door. This was unusual so we approached it with caution. “Dear Mom and Dad by the time you read this I will have killed myself. Please read my letter in the lounge. Do not go into the garage.” I immediately ran to the garage, found another notice on the door warning us not to enter and advising of GAS! On entering the garage, I found more notices on all the car windows, indicating gas warnings. In desperation I tried the door handles. They were locked. Michael was lying on his back on the reclined front seat beside a long gas cylinder.
I started crying and praying and ran back and told Phyllis that I had to go home to call the Police and inform Nikki and Colin. I remember screaming that it must not be true. I only remember that Nikki was in a meeting of sorts because I could hear voices near her and she said that they would fly down as soon as possible. Colin also arrived very quickly.
Returning to the house I found a hive of activity. The Police, a fire engine an ambulance and quite a few people – one trying to break the windows of the car before I used my keys. The police assured me that they would supervise the removal of his body etc.
I know I shut myself off from people who wanted to talk to me. I did not feel like carrying on as normal. I did not want to see or speak to anyone for the foreseeable future.
From so much talent and hope of a successful life ahead, to a complete waste. It was a great shock that felt as physical as it was emotional.
Trying to make sense of all the things leading up to his death I spoke to a doctor we told me that they try to avoid operating when they come across these cases of “Doctor swopping” and that they are usually on anti-depression medication. When I phoned the doctor who did his last operation he said: “Poor Michael.”
I asked why he described him in that way. Feeling desperate, I also asked him what he did to get help for Michael, or why he had not contacted us. He said that he explained to Michael that the most that you can operate on a nose is two times. He had told Michael that he was going to a conference and would discuss his case there and give him feedback. If after an op the patient is not happy, they become worse he said. Phyllis had spoken to Michael about the second nose operation, saying “You can’t keep having ops on your nose. What will you do if the third one isn’t successful?” Apparently, he said: “Well then I’ll kill myself”, which she shrugged off as obviously quite silly. The irony of all of this is that Michael had absolutely nothing wrong with his nose as far as any of us could see. It was quite baffling that he would want to change it all.
Discussing his case later with specialists, they suggested that a person who is a national chess champion and a qualified Actuary would likely have a mind that fixates on tiny details and precision, and latch onto discrepancies that ordinary people are unaware of and could very likely become BDD candidates.
In his bedroom we came across a lot of reading material that he had sourced about nasal reconstructive surgery, so it was clear that this had been playing on his mind.
He left us a letter, but it was not helpful in answering the question we all were so desperate to understand: WHY?
What a loss! It seems that there was nothing we could have done to stop his obsession because we were not fully prepared for it, and although I noticed behavioural changes I did not think they were significant enough to get any help. There was still some anger in me and needed to find out more about what happened in the runup to this terrible event.
I phoned the Pathologist at the morgue who had examined Michael’s body. She told me that the level of gas in his body was the most she had ever measured in a body. “He really wanted it to work for him” she added. We had to go and identify the body, and Geoff was willing to do it for us.
I traced the Gas supplier who supplied the gas and wanted to know why a huge gas cylinder was given to a private individual. Surely there must be rules about to whom you are allowed to sell the gas? He told me that Michael came to order a specific kind of gas. He told him that he was a botanist and was conducting experiments on particular plants. The gas guy said that he thought he was dealing with a brilliant specialist and when he had asked him further questions Michael was able to answer them all.
Next, I went to Parliment to check on the laws that applied to gas and it’s availability to the general public. I needed an explanation and wanted to know what can be done to prevent the general public from getting lethal gas in future beyond simply explaining what it is being used for. Essentially there are strict laws governing the use of gas but the supervision of these laws is very difficult to monitor.
I spoke to his work colleagues. They were just as astounded as we were by the news. They recalled the last night that they spoke to him, a few of them standing around in the parking garage, speculating on the upcoming Grand Prix (Michael was a big Schumacher fan). They remarked that in retrospect they had noticed he had parked in the furthest corner, rather than his usual spot. We realised that the gas cylinder must have already been lying in the Sierra, even as he stood around laughing and joking with them before driving home.
Gradually the anger and disappointment in me became less painful. I consoled myself with the knowledge that we had been blessed with an exceptional, wonderful son and that as an adult he had the right to go far away to another country from which he is not allowed to return.
Phyllis took his permanent parting very badly and shed lots of tears. She still hangs onto his possessions and the gifts he gave her. His photographs, and his personal things gives her a closeness and a slight peace of mind.
We attended some sessions with the Compassionate Friends, a supportive group for bereaved parents. Sharing the pain of others’ devastating losses was helpful – knowing you are not alone and that others really do understand what you are going through. They shared some interesting books to read about suicide, which I shared with Nikki too. Although they shed light and insights on the tragedy of suicide and what goes through people’s heads at the time, nothing helps to fill that horrible painful hollow in your heart.
We still think of him on his birthday but do not go out to dinner anymore. His bedroom remains, “Michael’s room”, and our memories of him will remain forever.
Sometimes I still dream about what it would have been like to have had Michael at our family gatherings.
